by Toby Neal
Gunshots echo in the distance, reaching us through the narrow passageways as tiny pings. Roan is beaten back, retreating. There are too many of them.
Tears run down my cheeks, the only heat in the coldness. I press my bruised face into the bars and weep wrenching sobs.
Roan’s leaving, but he’s alive. Which means he’ll be back. He won’t stop trying to rescue me until they kill him.
I slide down the bars as exhausted as if I’d just mounted an attack myself.
And then I feel Dwight Kane approaching.
He’s a wall of rage, a forest fire of hate roaring through the tunnels.
“Something happened out there.” Finney’s nervousness ramps up as his fingers play with the hem of his T-shirt. I pull off the long-sleeve shirt he gave me and toss it at him, even colder in just my thin tee, but if Kane sees that Finney gave me his shirt, it won’t be good for the boy.
Finney pulls it on over his head as loud footsteps echo and flashlights bob in the hall, glinting off the bars. Kane, followed by several other men, shoves Finney aside, and the boy is at once relieved to be ignored and terrified for me. Kane unlocks the door himself, his hands steady, but the anger in him vibrates the air in the small space.
I back up as he rips the metal gate open. With two long strides he’s in front of me, his face pressed into mine as my back hits the stone wall.
“Your boyfriend tried to save you—but he just pissed me off. What a fool.”
I’m filled with hate and rage toward this evil bastard, but also scared and proud—Roan cares enough to take on a mountain full of men to save me.
“He’ll be back,” I say. “He won’t stop coming for you until you’re dead. I warned you that you’d regret this.”
Kane rears back and smacks me. My head hits the wall and my cheek burns as I slide down to the ground. I’m losing track of myself. Kane is so big and strong that he’s pushing into me, his energy taking me over.
Blood trickles down my chin as he hauls me up, his hand around my neck. In the light of the electric lantern his eyes are ice blue, sharp, and dangerous. The flashlights throw shadows around his face as his lips curl in a smile to reveal gleaming, crooked teeth. Kane’s breath is ripe with cigarette smoke and rot. “You like having a boyfriend? I could let any of these men be your boyfriend.”
His men shift, moving closer. They remind me of hyenas ready to tear my flesh off my bones. They want to rape me until I die from being used.
My lip is swollen, the reopened cut aching. I’m holding onto the pain as an anchor, keeping me inside my body, keeping Kane out.
Kane grabs my shoulders and throws me into the chair so hard that it flips over backwards and my head smacks into the stone. Spots dance across my vision and I cringe from pain that shoots around the back of my head to sting my eyes.
He’s enjoying seeing me injured, hurting. I can feel sexual pleasure pulsing from his groin—it’s making him hard to hurt me, but he’s too contemptuous of my ancestry to rape me. “Pick her up.” Hands grab the chair and set me upright.
Kane’s holding a large, sharp combat knife. The blade glints in the bright beam of a flashlight. “Your boyfriend was rewarded for his courage.” He smiles slowly. “He’s dead.”
I know it’s a lie. I stare at him defiantly.
Kane cocks his head and narrows his eyes. This is the second time I’ve confused him. I try to wipe the knowledge of Roan from my face and replace it with a look of terror and sadness. I can’t let him know my power.
“Hold her hand flat on the armrest.” His voice is menacingly soft.
Joe Bob buckles the leather straps tightly on both of my wrists, then grabs my left hand and presses it hard against the wooden arm rest, pulling my fingers open and separating out the ring one. Lust rolls off Joe Bob in waves. He licks my ear, his hot breath fanning my neck.
I shut my eyes and brace myself; I know what’s coming next. Sinking my teeth into my injured lip keeps me from screaming in terror.
“Did you think you’d get married?” Kane asks as he takes the point of the blade and runs it down my cheek, pressing in hard enough to feel the pinch, but not draw blood. “Did you imagine your boyfriend’s ring on this finger?”
I watch the knife out the side of my eye, tracking its progress as he reaches my jawline, stroking it with the sharp edge. I’m shaking, biting my lip, trying to hold still as lust and anticipation surge through Kane.
“Well, sweetheart, you’re not gonna get married. You’re not gonna have kids. Your polluted blood will not go on. You and everyone like you are going to die. I’m going to send you back to your family in pieces. Starting with this.”
The weapon flashes too fast for me to track as he brings it down onto my ring finger, the one I would have worn a wedding band on. The blade whacks right through the skin and muscle, cracks the bone, and thunks into the wooden armrest. My finger flies off and hits the floor. Blood gushes, warming my palm, dripping off the wood and splattering onto the stone floor.
There’s no pain, just a white heat in my hand. Must be shock.
I look up at Kane and he grins until he meets my eyes. His smile falters.
“You’re going to die.” My voice is deep and rough. “And it’s going to be painful.”
Kane’s smile vanishes. He’s not afraid though, he’s excited, and his energy thrums through me. “I think you’re talking about yourself, sweetheart.”
He may be right. I have no idea what made me say those words, no clue who I was talking about. I just know that it’s true.
Chapter Eighteen
Ana
I slosh hot, soapy water around the cast iron pan, scrubbing harder than I should at the bits of crusted, fried eggplant. Jolene waits next to me ready to dry, a damp towel in her hands, always there to help.
I’m terrified for Lucille.
Gratitude. Gratitude. Gratitude. I need to count my blessings.
My strong sons and their loving wives. Beautiful new grandbabies on the way. This safe Haven. My garden. My friend Millie. The Sheriff.
It’s not working.
A stabbing pain between my shoulder blades, muscle strain from constant working, and the weight of my heavy breasts, forces me to hand the pan over to Jolene.
Jolene does not look at me. She can probably sense the rage pulsing inside me. It’s not right to be mad at her, but I can’t help myself.
Her brother stole my daughter. He wants to trade Jolene for Lucille! What an animal he is, a monster!
The tension in the house is palpable. It’s my job to keep everyone fed and happy, and at least the eggplant parm in the oven will satisfy one of those two requirements.
The smell of eggplant and melted mozzarella fills the kitchen. I made the moz myself—JT is smart to keep cows and goats. Having both cheeses available gives us more variety in our textures and flavors.
All the boys are back in the basement, pacing around like caged animals, as frustrated and as enraged as I am.
How dare Roan run off to try and save Lucille alone! What a fool. A stupid, selfish fool!
And Jolene, how can she have a brother like this? Evil, is what he is! Evil!
I’m muttering under my breath as Jolene quickly finishes the pan and turns to wipe the counter. Dante’s adopted son, Paul, who I can’t help calling Paulie, sweeps up.
I should not judge others’ families. Lord knows mine has plenty of sinners in it.
My memory flashes to my brother and sister laughing around the dinner table. I haven’t seen them in decades; we disagree on fundamentals. Perhaps I should say disagreed since they are probably dead. Grief tightens my mouth. We never had a chance to work things out…
“Should we make a dessert, Mama Ana?” Jolene says, forcing a smile. She asked me if she could call me that, and it caught on with my other daughters-in-law too. I stare at her for a moment, unable to answer, not even sure of the question. Circles under her pretty blue eyes and lines around her mouth show her distress.
&
nbsp; Such a sweet girl, a truly gentle soul. This must be killing her.
A dessert? “Yes, we can do that.” Cake is Roan’s favorite. He pretends not to like sweets, but he always cleans his plate and goes back for more when no one’s looking. I like feeding him; he’s too skinny and silent, always doubting his welcome.
Anger flickers again. How can Roan put Lucy in even more danger this way?
My girl’s been after him for months. She’s way too forward, certainly not how a young woman would’ve acted in my era. Roan always turned her down, and now suddenly he goes off alone to try to save her. The boy’s a fool on many accounts. He’d be lucky to have her. Any man would.
My throat closes with unshed tears. Maybe a whole lot of men are having her right now. My whole body clenches at the horror. I want to cover my face with my apron and scream.
I have to do something. I whirl around, looking for inspiration, but can only think of Roan’s favorite. “What about cake?”
Jolene winces. Right, nothing so celebratory.
“How about your egg custard with meringue?” Paulie touches my forearm. He’s growing like a weed, getting handsomer every day. He looks down at me now, his eyes warm with understanding.
I nod. It will be good to beat something. “We do have a lot of eggs.”
“I’ll go get them.” Jolene heads towards the kitchen pantry, and the two of us are alone.
“Paulie.”
The boy looks at me, cocking his head. I put my hand over his. “I’m…upset.”
“I understand. I had a sister who died. I’m sorry this is happening, Mama Ana.”
Tears well in my eyes. So much loss. I’ve been lucky to only lose Nando, but perhaps that luck has run out. I pray and I confess and I follow all the rules, but so do lots of others. Lots of others who are long dead.
“It’ll be okay,” Paulie promises me, patting my back. That’s the kind of thing my husband would have said.
And he ended up dead too, his nose cut off, floating in the river.
I turn away from Paulie as rage flickers again. I don’t want the boy to see it.
Jolene returns with the eggs, and begins to crack them, separating the yolks from the whites. Her hands tremble.
Poor thing. And yet, as much as I have sympathy for her I also cannot let it go. It’s her brother doing this to us!
I force myself to take a deep breath, and then murmur out the words of my favorite Bible scriptures, strung together. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for God is with me. Do not be anxious in anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition, present your requests to God…and the peace of God will guard your hearts and minds.”
The egg whites fill the deep copper bowl halfway. Jolene offers it to me along with a whisk. She knows I’m the one who needs to beat the egg whites, that I’m the angry one.
I take the bowl and whisk the thick, globular whites with all my strength.
The peace of God is taking a while to get to me.
I flash back to my youth again: my sister Martina and I making chocolate mousse, taking turns whipping, my grandmother humming as we worked in her small, bright Chicago kitchen. The sun on Martina’s smiling face, the glint in her hazel eyes as she sang along with Nonna Maria’s humming, the smell of chocolate, vanilla, and eggs…
I try to remember the tune, push it up from my memory, make my throat shape it, but no sound comes out.
Anger and hurt block any music inside me.
My Lucy plays piano like an angel. She can sit down at the piano and just play without even practicing. We have the same hands, though mine are older, spotted with age and gnarled by arthritis…will Lucy ever reach my age?
I beat the eggs harder, and soon they are stiff peaks. I keep going until Paulie touches my back. “Let’s not overdo it, Mama Ana.”
Tears burst through.
I put down the bowl and pick up my apron, sobbing into it for my poor sweet baby girl, being held by terrible men. I sob for Jolene, that one of those monsters is her relation. I cry for Paulie and the loss of his family. I sob for myself, for the anger and grief inside me, for my inability to live in God’s grace.
Paulie puts his skinny, strong arms around me. It’s embarrassing to lean on such a young man, just a child. But Paulie has so much strength from all he’s been through. Jolene comes and circles us both with her arms, weeping as well.
The timer dinging pulls me out of it. The eggplant parmesan is done. I hate to burn it.
I’ll pull it from the oven as something to do.
Footsteps coming from the basement turn my head as heat and the sumptuous scents of the dish waft out of the open oven.
Dolf bursts into the room, his dark eyes wild, his neat hair a mess.
“Avital is in labor! Mama, I need you to help.”
This will take my mind off my poor Lucy, and I can still be useful. My grandbabies are on the way! Thank God.
Chapter Nineteen
Roan
I follow Shadow through the pitch-black woods, the flash of light gray fur under his tail, my guide as I run. My wolf sees well at night, and I trust him to lead me to where I stashed Adelle. Breath tears through my lungs as I use a tiny penlight to navigate a log that Shadow easily leapt over. I hear the sounds of pursuit falling away behind me.
I take a moment to look back. Flashlights bob like fireflies in the darkness, far below the ridge that Shadow and I are climbing.
They will never track me without dogs, and I didn’t see any at the compound.
The insane adrenaline rush of my attack on the fortress begins to ebb out of my tissues, leaving me shaky and heartsick. Nausea engulfs me as I imagine what Kane will do to Lucy now. I bend to retch, supporting my body against a tree, but there’s nothing in my stomach.
I stand up eventually, wiping my foul-tasting mouth on the sleeve of a dead man’s shirt. Nothing to be done but put one foot in front of the other and march my shame and defeat back to the Haven.
I dread facing her brothers, especially JT.
Will our friendship survive this?
Adelle nickers happily at the sight of us. I mount up and Shadow heels to Adelle’s hindquarter as we navigate slowly through the dark forest.
The attack plays through my mind again and again.
The distraction, a grenade I took from the Haven’s supplies, worked to draw men out of the cave. Untrained soldiers opened the gate and ran out to investigate, just as I planned. I captured one of them, broke his neck and donned his clothing, including a billed hat to hide my face. I infiltrated the protected area beyond the berm before a fresh wave of men exiting the mine saw the paint on my face under the hat’s brim, a risk I had hoped the darkness would hide but wasn’t lucky enough to pull off.
Memories burst across my tired brain as if lit by flashbulbs: the men rushing me. I nailedone of them with a head shot, punched another, breaking the knee of a third with the tomahawk. Diving for the entrance, hoping to disappear into the depths, I was brought up short by a burst of gunfire and the hot-poker burn of a bullet.
I reach up to touch the gouge of the bullet’s track along my cheekbone. My hand comes away sticky with blood. Forgot all about that until now.
There are at least twenty, possibly as many as thirty, men in Kane’s operation. With the elements of stealth and surprise blown, there was no way for me to even reach the mine’s opening.
Lucy will suffer now.
Bile fills my mouth again. I spit into the dark and taste blood.
Dawn is approaching, a grey light filtering through the dark trees. JT and Luca, crisscrossed with ammo belts and heavily armed, lean against the back entrance of the Haven. I’m leading Adelle; the mare hangs her head with exhaustion and has come up lame after hitting her leg on something in the dark.
They must’ve seen me approaching on the surveillance cams.
Luca looms out of the dark, his light brown eyes hidden by the shelf of his brow. He’s vibra
ting with the urge to tear me apart, but holds back as JT pushes off from the steel door and approaches me.
“Where the hell did you go, Roan?” JT’s voice is sharp and cold.
“You know where I went.” I considered going to my cabin and putting this whole shit off until morning, but the brothers will be frantic for news of Lucy. It’s not right to hold back intel.
I failed.
Dwight Kane will take it out on her. The certainty of it chills me.
JT grabs my chin and twists my face into the light that comes through the partly open door, making me look into his blazing eyes. “Where is she? Where’s Lucy?”
I wrench my face out of his hand, and that starts the bullet track on my cheek bleeding again, stinging hot.
“They still have her.” My voice is sand in my throat, just a hoarse whisper. “There were too many of them.”
JT’s punch hits me in the mouth and rocks my head back. I stagger, dots of colored light spinning in my vision. Shadow steps up to JT, growling, and I keep my feet somehow, reaching down to grab his ruff. “No, boy.”
I deserve this, and more. I knew what I was doing, I knew I was taking a risk, and I did it anyway.
Luca steps up and takes a shot from the other direction, almost knocking me off my feet. “I’m going to kill you.” His voice is a low, dangerous thrum.
Shadow snarls, bristling, crowding in front of me as I try to stay upright, spinning from the stars unleashed by Luca’s blow. Peaches, Luca’s German shepherd, steps up to give Shadow attitude right back. Former friends, the dogs are ready to tear each other’s throats out in defense of us.
This is wrong.
I won’t let our dogs fight each other because of my stupidity. But temptation circles me like a buzzard; give up and drop to the ground, it whispers. Death will come for you.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, through a mouthful of blood, holding Shadow back as the dogs gradually settle. “I screwed up.”
