Simon took a bite of food and grunted with enjoyment. I moved to get myself a plate with a thin slice of meat and only two small pieces of potatoes. He liked my company so he could brag about the day, and he would be angry if I didn’t eat or if I ate too much.
“I’m planting the south field next week,” he said. “You’ll bring out our food. I’m hiring Wilson’s boys to help.”
A rustling from the cupboard clogged my response in my throat, but there was no cry, so Hannah was probably just moving in her sleep.
I still didn’t know how she’d happened, but the moment I’d realized I was expecting, I’d talked nonstop about the son Simon would have and what people would say. How he’d have someone to bestow his legacy upon. I’d made sure plenty of witnesses were at the birth, and when it was a daughter—after the fear subsided—I was fiercely glad. A daughter I might be able to protect from his anger. A daughter wouldn’t follow in her father’s footsteps.
But whenever he had to hire other men’s sons, he remembered that Hannah wasn’t the heir I’d promised. He’d never forgiven me for what he thought of as my betrayal.
“I’ll do that,” I said. It’d actually be nice to cook for someone who might appreciate the effort.
Simon took a second bite of meat, and this time his face furrowed. He swallowed and took another mouthful. This one he spat out, half chewed, onto the floor. “The middle is cold, and the bottom’s burnt.”
“You were late,” I said, reaching for the plate. “I only just started reheating it. Let me fix it for you. The rest will be hotter now.”
He swept the plate from my grasp. The rare porcelain hit the wood floor and shattered, sending meat, gravy, and chunks of potatoes and carrots flying.
I jumped to my feet, my heart pounding against my rib cage.
“So it’s my fault?” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “My fault? I give you everything. A roof over your stupid head. Food for yer lyin’ trap. Clothes for yer skinny little frame. Even porcelain dinnerware.” He was on his feet now, his anger making him seem tall.
I heard Hannah’s faint cry. Don’t let him hear her. From the corner of my eye, I could see the steady glow of her life, even through the mostly closed door of the cupboard.
“Maybe you don’t deserve anything I give you!” He grabbed the neck of my dress and tugged, but the fabric didn’t give. Instead, I was propelled forward, my head connecting with his chest. He shoved me back into the table, and it skidded several feet across the floor. The cups and utensils clattered to the ground. The sliced bread teetered on the edge.
Hannah let out a wail.
I bolted forward, thinking to somehow grab her and get outside, maybe leave her with a neighbor until Simon calmed down, but he was faster. Catching my hair in his fist, he pulled me back and yanked me around. I slid across the floor to slam my head against the solid oak door.
Hannah’s cry grew louder.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Simon screamed. His footsteps to the cupboard were heavy and determined.
Hannah cried harder.
Panic fueled me as I launched myself toward Simon. I reached him as he opened the cupboard door. Little Hannah was in her cradle, her face red and her mouth open. I saw two of her, my head still fuzzy from the blow. She took a breath and let out another scream.
“I said shut up,” he growled.
I reached for him, but I was too late. His fist came down on Hannah.
The crying stopped.
His hand was ready for another punch, but I lashed out at him. Anything to stop him from hurting Hannah further. Maybe she was just stunned. Maybe I was imagining that the light around her had gone completely out.
“You leave her alone!” I screamed. “Or I’ll tell! I’ll tell everyone about the monster you are! And they’ll believe me. Hannah hasn’t been sick a day in her life. They’ll know you’re a murderer.” It wasn’t true. So many took ill and died. No one would think twice about Hannah.
“Whore!” Simon hit me on the side of the head. His next punch took me in the stomach with a blow that was all too familiar. Then I was on the floor and he was on top of me, fists pumping. I felt my teeth cave inward. Blood filled my mouth.
“You won’t tell anyone nuthin’. Not ever again!” His hands went around my throat, blocking all the air. “I’ve seen you making eyes at Barker and even the pastor. Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to be with them. Maybe Hannah belongs to one of them. Eh? She certainly ain’t mine.”
I tried to shake my head, but his grip was too strong. My sight was foggy on the edges, a sure sign that I would soon pass out. I couldn’t let that happen. There might be a chance for Hannah. Maybe the darkness I saw from the cupboard came only because of my own injuries.
Except that Simon’s own body glow was so bright I could see it with my eyes closed. I could feel his rage, his sense of betrayal. I also saw an image of the farmer who had just come from England and was working the land two homesteads over. He had a twenty-year-old daughter with silky black hair. Simon was already planning my replacement.
My sight darkened. Before I passed out completely, the pressure on my throat eased. I tried to move, but my body refused to obey. Everything hurt. Worse than anything I’d ever known. When I finally pried my eyes open, I saw Simon, his pants around his knees, felt him pushing up my dress. My underclothes ripped. His weight pressed down on me.
His face was close to mine. He was breathing heavy, not with exertion now, but with arousal. “Just one thing left I’ve been wanting to try,” he grated. A knife glinted next to my cheek. “Once, I almost . . . but I didn’t. Don’t need no potion for this.”
He had prepared for this moment. Maybe not exactly like this, but he’d planned my murder. Maybe because he’d decided he didn’t want me anymore, or because that new farmer’s daughter might give him sons. He slid the knife down, and in a single motion, swiped it across my throat, cutting deeply. I gasped for breath, but none came. The blood welled.
Simon gave a deep laugh that sounded demented. His body trembled against me.
I felt strangely disconnected. I didn’t care, not for me. Not with Hannah gone. I couldn’t even feel or care about what he was doing.
Maybe I’d finally found my luck like the first Mrs. Brumbaugh.
Except it wasn’t the end but only the beginning.
END OF SAMPLE. Please note that Ava’s Revenge is separate from the main series of full-length novels and can be enjoyed at any time. However, the last scene is present day and fits into the Unbounded timeline just after the end of The Change (Unbounded Book 1). Click here to purchase a copy of Ava's Revenge from Smashwords. Or download it for FREE by signing up for new releases and subscriber exclusives on the author’s website. To learn more about the author and her books, you can also visit the About the Author page.
TEYLA BRANTON grew up avidly reading science fiction and fantasy and watching Star Trek reruns with her large family. They lived on a little farm where she loved to visit the solitary cow and collect (and juggle) the eggs, usually making it back to the house with most of them intact. On that same farm she once owned thirty-three gerbils and eighteen cats, not a good mix, as it turns out. Teyla always had her nose in a book and daydreamed about someday creating her own worlds.
Teyla is now married, mostly grown up, and has seven kids, so life at her house can be very interesting (and loud), but writing keeps her sane. She thrives on the energy and daily amusement offered by her family, the semi-ordered chaos giving her a constant source of writing material. She grabs any snatch of free time from her hectic life to write. She’s been known to wear pajamas all day when working on a deadline, and is often distracted enough to burn dinner. (Okay, pretty much 90% of the time.) A sign on her office door reads: DANGER. WRITER AT WORK. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
She loves writing fiction and traveling, and she hopes to write and travel a lot more. She also loves shooting guns, martial arts, and belly dancing. She has worked in the publishing
business for over twenty years. Teyla also writes romance and suspense under the name Rachel Branton. For more information or to sign up for free books and subscriber exclusives, please visit TeylaBranton.com.
BOOKS BY TEYLA BRANTON
Unbounded Series
The Change
The Cure
The Escape
The Reckoning
The Takeover
Unbounded Novellas
Ava’s Revenge
Mortal Brother
Lethal Engagement
Set Ablaze
Short Stories
Times Nine
UNDER THE NAME RACHEL BRANTON
Lily’s House Series
House Without Lies
Tell Me No Lies
Your Eyes Don’t Lie
Noble Hearts
Royal Quest
Royal Dance
Picture Books
I Don't Want To Eat Bugs
Table of Contents
Copyright
Title Page
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Sneak Peek! The Takeover
Bonus! Preview of Ava's Revenge
About the Author
Books by Teyla Branton
Under the name Rachel Branton
Lethal Engagement Page 17
