Grave Bound (Secrets, #1)

by T. R. Graves

  Without another second of hesitation, I nod, agreeing to Tope's conditions without waiting for Levi. As soon as I agree, his shoulders noticeably relax.

  Levi grins toward Tope like a man who thinks he's invincible. I realize at that moment Levi has no idea how cruel and dangerous the men within the commune can be. I know firsthand his ignorance makes him vulnerable.

  "Man, sometimes I think you're twenty years older than me instead of just four," Levi says, rolling his eyes and proving to me that Tope escorting him is the perfect plan. I'll be able to see Levi, and Tope and I can keep working together to keep him safe.

  Tope is sarcastic when he says, "Yeah. You and I'll talk more about that later because I'm not sure anything about what you did was responsible. Right now, Emily needs to get back."

  I glance around and say, "What time is it?"

  "Twelve o'clock," both men say simultaneously.

  Suddenly, I know exactly how Cinderella felt at the stroke of midnight when she had to rush away from her prince. The mere thought makes me teary-eyed sick, but I know I need to leave without making a scene or my departure will be even harder on Levi.

  I intertwine my fingers with Levi's. "Walk me to the first tree. I'll make it the rest of the way."

  Completely deflated and shoulders drooping like the weight of the world is pushing them down, Levi drops his head to his chest. "Okay. Let's go, Em."

  As soon as we make it to the edge of the forest, Levi turns to me and kisses me. I stepped backwards until my back is against a tree and there's no place left to go.

  Way too soon, Levi ends our kiss and leans into my ear. "Please do whatever it takes to make it back here Saturday night. It's gonna kill me to wait until then to see you again."

  "I'll be here, but it'll be late," I say, placing my final kiss on the corner of his mouth.

  Levi closes his eyes like he's counting to ten and doing his best to let me go. When there's nothing more to say and no more time to waste, Levi steps away from me.

  "I'll call you in thirty minutes. If you don't answer, I'm storming that crazy commune, carrying you out of there, and we're never going to look back, Em."

  I smile. Levi's naive belief that Owen would ever allow that to happen is loveable. I really did adore the sweet man standing in front of me.

  "Give me an hour. Last night I barely made it."

  As soon as Levi concedes, I grab my basket and run as fast as I can toward the fence so I can easily make it back to my house in time.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Seductress

  Emily

  I rush through the forest like I'm the jack rabbit being hunted by the hungry wolf I'd happened upon the night before. In addition to seeing how fast I can run, I do my best at making very little noise and leaving almost no traceable clues that can be used as evidence to prove someone is making their way through the woods outside the commune. I can't begin to imagine the precautions Owen would implement if he suspected for one second someone is traipsing around these woods. I'd never see Levi again.

  That's the exact moment I realize I have to start thinking of my escapes out of and infiltrations back into the commune as well-planned missions rather than by-the-seat-of-my-pants acts of defiance. Every ounce of my practice, planning, and conditioning would be used when I make my final escape. I know as well as I know my name that, Levi or no Levi, I'll eventually escape from The Community no matter where I have to live or what I have to do once I make to the outside.

  Formulating my strategy, I decide to memorize the length of time and the number of steps it takes to make it to the lake from Owen's house, to Owen's house from the lake, and every landmark in between. Planning for my future instead of hoping for the best suddenly feels right to me and gives me confidence I've never had before.

  With an abruptness that throws me to my knees, I'm stopped in my tracks before I ever make it to the fence's hole. I expect to find the same quiet dark cemetery I came back to the night before... the one I left earlier that day. Instead, I return to a graveyard glowing with artificial lights and bustling with people.

  What the hell?

  Squatting low and heart beating like it's outside my chest, I hide behind the closest tree. I take inventory of the site before me, trying to decide if this is a search party called to find me after discovering I'm nowhere within the commune.

  Jesus! Owen, Phil, and Lorenzo will beat the shit outta me.

  The longer I watch the activity, the more I realize the group of people gathered in the cemetery in the middle of the night is there for a purpose, and their mission has nothing to do with searching for me. The scene before me is too common and everyone's actions are oddly robotic. It's as if they are doing something they do all the time.

  Everyone knew their place, what to do, and when to do it. I decide that if I'd been called out to the cemetery in the middle of the night for the first time in my life, I'd still be trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do. That's not what I'm seeing.

  I know all of the people rushing around and following the orders barked loudly by Lorenzo. Becca, Kira, Patti, and Tess are among the women serving him like he's a leader every bit as powerful as Owen and Phil. I'm amazed by how naturally Lorenzo has taken to the role with Owen and my brothers away.

  Seeing Lorenzo in a different light, I intuitively know he'll eventually be the leader of the commune. He's ruthless enough to do anything necessary to get what he wants. I'm absolutely sure that neither Owen nor Phil understands they are in as much danger from Lorenzo's thirst for power as I am when it comes to his desire for me.

  Great!

  I'm jerked from my thoughts when Lorenzo slaps Hester, one of the union hall whores, with enough force to knock her to the ground. I notice he's purposefully waited until she's loaded her box into the back of the truck. It's the same one that almost all of the women of the commune are frantically filling.

  "Get off your ugly ass and help 'em get these boxes loaded. I should've left already," he says, charging for Hester as soon as he decides she's not getting up nearly fast enough.

  The mousy Hester, holding her bloodied lip, jumps up and heads back toward the storage shed with an urgency that no one had before then.

  I'm instantly riled with Lorenzo's treatment of Hester. For reasons I'll never understand, Hester's plain looks anger men, and they all go out of their way to remind her she's not a beauty. Always in a mean and hateful manner. In fact, the rumors are that Hester was forced to become a whore because no other man in the commune would agree to marry her. They were all afraid their kids would be plain like her. Sealing her fate, no other commune would agree take her... not even as a favor to Owen.

  The men of the commune may have an almost instinctive hate for Hester, but I like her. Unlike the rest of the women who live in the union hall, Hester has always been easy to get along with and willing to help me as much as she can. Without Tess asking her to, Hester has taken on the role of waking the women who live in the union hall and demanding they do their fair share of cooking and cleaning.

  My temper flares because I consider Hester a friend. Not a best friend, but a friend no less. To see Lorenzo slap her down and humiliate her like that is enough to makes my blood boil. At that moment, I hate him more than ever.

  As soon as Hester disappears back into the shed and several more women come out carrying boxes just like the one Hester loaded into the truck, my anger ebbs and is overtaken by a growing curiosity. Suddenly, I want to know what these people are doing out of bed in the middle of the night, loading boxes into the back of the U-Haul moving truck sitting inside the cemetery. Lorenzo's involvement tells me whatever’s going on isn’t good.

  I have every intention of finding out what they're doing and how long they've been doing it, but I can only deal with one problem at a time. Getting back into the commune and making it home are my most pressing issues at the minute.

  Fortunate for me, no one has a key to Owen's house (not even Alex or Bobbi) because Owen doesn'
t trust people and doesn't want anyone—besides the boys, Tess, and me—in his house. If the house is still locked up tight, I'll know my day of absence is still my secret.

  Once that worry is off my mind, I'll work on finding the hidden door in the storage shed. There has to be one given the number of people coming in and out of it and the sheer magnitude of boxes being stored inside. Then, I'll find out what the hell is in those boxes. The careful way the women hold them and the fact that Lorenzo tells the women repeatedly that he would beat anyone who drops one of the boxes makes me think there's something important and possibly breakable inside.

  I wonder if Owen knows what he's up to.

  As soon as I have that thought something hits me like a ton of bricks.

  Shit! He's already moved his 'future son-in-law' into a new position within the commune. Great! All I need is more confirmation that Lorenzo was tellin' the truth yesterday.

  "This is the last box, ladies. I need all of you back here... same time... same place tomorrow and every night until Owen returns," Lorenzo says, smacking Sammie, another of the commune's whores, on the ass. His slap is so hard and loud that I can hear it perfectly all the way over where I am.

  Sammie's hands are above her head, lifting the final box into the van. Lorenzo's hit catches her off guard. She stumbles forward and loses her grip on the box. Before it hits the ground—every woman in the group sucks in a shocked breath—Lorenzo lurches forward and catches it. Without skipping a beat, he lifts it and squeezes it into the last open spot in the back of the van.

  "I'm sorry, sir!" Sammie says, ducking her head and looking like she might drop to her knees and beg him for forgiveness.

  I may have felt sorry for Sammie for the beating she's about to get since the falling box was out of her control, but I'm not now nor will I ever be a fan of Sammie's. The memories associated with her spiral down into her current whore role are too close to my heart and too painful for me to spend much time thinking about.

  Sammie's been doe-eyed beautiful her entire life. Using every asset God gave her, she’s always had the power to bat her eyes and bring everyone in her vicinity under her spell. In fact, she's so good at manipulation that—even now—the men in the commune treat her with a reverence that's never been shown to any other woman. Sammie takes full advantage of it.

  Without fail and on a daily basis, she complains about her chores. Owen, of all people, constantly relieves her of her duties and invites her to hang out with the men and boys while the other women work. With a wicked grin aimed toward the other women, Sammie abandons her chores, joins the men, and flirts shamelessly with them.

  Everything she does reinforces the hate the other women of the commune have for her. They all think she's spoiled and conceited, and there are those who call her a bitch under their breath. No one does anything too obvious or noticeable so Owen doesn't find out.

  It doesn't matter, though. The names and taunts don't bother Sammie at all. She enjoys the men's attention more than she loves anything or anyone. If the truth be known, her need to be the center of attention was ultimately her ruin.

  Her fall from grace began on her eighteenth birthday when Phil laid his claim on her. Getting ahead of everyone else, he asked Owen if Sammie could be promised to him. Of course, his request was more of a formality than anything else. Owen would never deny his favorite son's request. Even then, I could tell Owen agreed begrudgingly. He was as jealous of Phil's future with Sammie as every other man in the commune. They all wanted to have her mesmerizing beauty for themselves.

  It was obvious by her anger that Sammie wasn’t pleased with the prospect of being tied down to one person... even if that person was Phil, the leader's son and the commune's future leader. She loved being the center of attention for as many men as possible. She knew Phil wouldn’t tolerate any situation where other men flirted with her or vice versa. Despite the control Sammie had over men, she was as powerless as any other woman when it comes to voicing her opinion about her future husband.

  I'd always hated the way Sammie avoided work and refused to contribute to the commune's wellbeing, but Tess told me I needed to get over that because she was going to be my sister-in-law.

  After Tess fussed at me, she reminded me that Sammie would have to share duties around the house with me, which would take some of the responsibility off me. I'd done the cooking and cleaning for the four men long enough to realize it would be good to have some help. Finally, I resigned myself to having her join our family.

  Of course, that was when I still thought Sammie would fall in line with The Community's traditions. As the woman promised to Phil, she was expected to take over all the cooking and cleaning duties for him. It was The Community's antiquated way of making sure the woman showed the man his request was an honor even if she'd rather have her life's blood drained out of her than be with the man she'd been promised to.

  I made plans with Sammie every day for two weeks. My sole purpose was the transition of Phil's cooking and cleaning duties to his future wife. Sammie always showed up right after I had the meals prepared and the bedrooms and bathrooms were spic-and-span clean. It was almost as if she had a talent for avoiding work.

  Keeping the peace, I decide doing the chores for four was no different than doing the chores for three. I never said a word to anyone—not even Tess—about Sammie and kept up with the cooking and cleaning for Phil.

  I knew Sammie would be beaten if Phil found out, and that was the last thing I wanted no matter how much I resented her. Also, I knew it would hurt Phil's feelings if he found out that Sammie wasn’t showing him she was honored by his request. Of all of my tall and lanky stepbrothers, Phil was my favorite. At least, he was until Sammie ruined everything between us.

  No matter how long I live, I'll never forget the day Owen and Phil found out what I'd been doing. It was a cold winter night, and I was awakened from a deep sleep by Owen. He crashed into my room, grabbed me by the hair, pulled me out of the bed, and dragged me downstairs. I'd never seen Owen so angry in his life, and I had no idea what I'd done to provoke it.

  Downstairs, I was met by Sammie and Owen's much younger brother, Marcus. My Uncle Marcus had been Owen's next in command until Phil turned eighteen. When Phil became a man, the chance that Marcus would ever lead the commune became almost nonexistent, and something about that reality turned Marcus bitter.

  No matter how hostile he became toward others, he still loved and protected me every chance he got. Like Tess's sacrifices on my behalf, Marcus's protection always went unknown and unseen by Owen and usually involved his drawing any negative attention away from me and having it directed onto him. Constantly ready for a fight, he was in no way intimidated by Owen or my brothers.

  I was beyond shocked when it dawned on me that Sammie was topless and Marcus was standing in front of me with nothing on but his jeans, the fly was wide open. Fortunate for me, nothing below the V of his lowest stomach muscles was visible.

  Embarrassed, I quickly looked away from their nakedness and the defiant humiliation I saw in Marcus's eyes. I knew him well enough to know he wished he could talk to me, but there was no way for me to make that happen or for me to find out what he needed to say to me.

  Owen still had a fistful of my hair. He jerked my head back toward Sammie and Marcus, forcing me to stare at them and engrain their moment of shame into my mind.

  With enough force to make me jump, Owen yelled, “Have you been doin’ Phil's cookin' and cleanin' even though Sammie’s promised to him?”

  I knew right then and there I was in as much trouble as they were. Sammie, the woman they all loved, had betrayed every man in my family, drove a wedge between Owen and his brother, and someone was going to pay. In Owen's eyes, my decision to stay quiet was comparable to Sammie's apparent infidelity.

  The instant I nodded, Phil bolted toward me and backhanded me hard enough to sling me across the living room. For the rest of my life, I'll remember Marcus putting himself protectively between Phil and me. Mar
cus was enraged by Phil's abuse of me. I suspected if his hands hadn't been secured behind him, Phil would’ve seen why he'd been given the role of Owen's enforcer.

  "Phil, if you lay one more hand on her, I swear on all that I am I'll kill you myself. Do whatever you need to do to me 'n Sammie, but don't you hit her again."

  His words had the opposite effect on Phil. As soon as Phil realized my torture was worse on Marcus than anything he could do to him, I became Phil's human piñata. Owen held Marcus back while I was punched, kicked, and slapped more that night than I'd ever been in my entire life. Each strike drove Marcus deeper and deeper into his fury. At one point, he reared his head back with enough force to break Owen's nose, sending blood everywhere. Within minutes, Brian and Joe had Marcus restrained.

  "Phil, you and Owen are bigger pieces of shit than even I understood. Only a weak man would hit someone like Emily... someone who's never hurt anyone... and your own kin."

  Phil spit in Marcus's face. "Don't you talk to me about what a piece of shit I am. You were caught with your pants down, fuckin' the woman who's gonna be my wife."

  Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah. She was gonna make you a real good wife. You should be thankin' me for showin' you what a whore she really is. By the way..." Marcus smiled sadistically. "...You might as well get your facts straight. I wasn't fuckin' her. She was suckin' me off because you won't let her suck you. I'm not really sure why, either. She's the best mouth fuck I ever had."

  Marcus had never, would never say anything as crude as what he'd just said in front of me under normal circumstances. It just wasn't in his nature. With his uncharacteristic vulgarity, I knew he was making the ultimate sacrifice—himself—and keeping Phil's attention on him and not me.

  The instant rise in Phil's anger turned his entire head purple and caused a giant vein to bulge from his forehead. With a violent battle cry, Phil charged toward Marcus and used him like a punching bag. He pummeled Marcus's gut until his every muscle and rib was black and blue.