Gently, she rubbed at the dry blood and crusted dirt on my skin, dipping and rubbing, dipping and rubbing. I tried not to move as she worked her way down my face, towards my top, the mattress growing wet from the pink water.
“That’s enough, Beth,” one of the men said from the door. The girl pulled a hand back, her free hand going to rest on the curve of her belly. “Edward only wanted her presentable not ready for marriage.”
“Let me just clean the blood from her arms, and then we’ll be good.”
He made a sound but let her carry on.
She pressed the bloody rag to a deep cut in my arm. I sucked in breath, desperately battling nausea as the red haze of pain overwhelmed my thoughts.
“You’re pregnant,” I whispered, as the men murmured between themselves. She hesitated, and then her head dipped in the slightest of nods as she continued cleaning the deep cut.
“Was it… consensual?”
She didn’t react, her eyes on my cut.
“Who’s the father?”
Her lip trembled, but she said nothing.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.” Her voice was an exhale of breath, barely a whisper.
“How long have you been here?”
“Five years.”
“Do you want to–”
“Quiet!” The man at the door snapped, causing us to jump. “Beth, you’re done.”
She quickly packed up her rag and bucket, leaving the bottled water behind. The men and the other woman also left, locking me into the dark room.
I slowly pushed up. Clean clothes were piled beside the chair. Flat bread and a paper plate, all they gave me.
Smart.
I ignored the clothes and food, instead drinking slowly from the water bottles. They may be drugged, but I had to take that chance.
I could hear movement downstairs again. I drifted in and out of consciousness, tiptoeing the line between delirium and lucidity before finally giving into the darkness.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Emmie
Footsteps echoed on the stairs outside the prison room. I forced my eyes open. The room remained dark; I had no concept of time.
Had I been here days? Hours?
Everything hurts.
Be strong. Be ready. Look for mistakes.
The door scraped along the floorboards, protesting as it opened. I couldn’t summon the strength to look up.
“Abishag, damn it!” Hands settled on my feverish skin, rolling my body. My head lolled before I forced my eyes open.
“Abel.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “Why?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked as he lifted me. “Greenfields.”
Ice froze the blood in my veins.
Fuck.
“They found it, sis.”
I groaned as he moved me, repositioning my body. “They want the password.”
“Now?”
He carried me through the door, out into glaring lights. My eyes snapped closed, vomit burning the back of my throat as my body protested the bright lights.
“Now,” he confirmed, carrying me down the stairs. “Edward has demanded it.”
“Why are you still here?”
He hesitated for less than a moment before continuing down the stairs. “I can leave after you deliver it.”
“I’m the bribe?”
“You’re my indulgence. Delivering you is the price I have to pay for my excommunication.”
I was silent as he carried me through the house. An indulgence, much like those practiced by churches back in the 1500s, was a way for members of the God’s Patriots to purchase an exemption. In the commune, indulgences were large amounts of money that purchased three things - wives, favours, or excommunication. Only one person had achieved the sum required for excommunication while I was there, leaving behind his wife and children because he hadn’t the funds to take them with him. The wife had been forcibly remarried a month later.
Excommunication was the only way to cleanly leave. It sealed your fate, cutting you off. The church had nothing to do with you, and you were free to live your life.
Greenfields had been my ticket out. I’d worked on the program for months before David finally got his way, derailing my secretive plans.
“How much?” I choked out as we cleared the steps, moving into a large room.
“Rough estimates show over a billion.”
How? How had they not discovered it? How had no one stopped it?
“Why do they need it?”
“To enact your plan. It’s time for the final coming.”
Oh, God. I was right.
Abel bent, placing me on a chair, arranging my body gently before stepping back. I forced my head up as I looked at the room through one squinting eye.
It was a large space, brightly lit thanks to the numerous fluorescent lights that hung from the wood beams above. I assumed it was some kind of garage, with a little loft where I’d been kept. In the garage, women and men stood or sat here and there, all watching. There was a computer in the centre of the room, cables running from outside.
“Abishag.” Edward stepped forward, his smooth voice sending a chill up my spine. “Your trial begins.”
“I’m not called that.” I forced out between swollen lips. “My name is–”
“Quiet!” he snapped, clapping a hand down on the desk. “You’re here to face your punishment.”
I watched, dread a heavy rock in my belly as he called out my charges.
“Spousal abandonment, extramarital relations, treachery, theft, lust, greed, deceit…” he paused, arms sweeping to engulf the room at large. “And worst of all, dishonour to God.”
He turned back to me, folding his arms over his chest. “How do you find her?” he asked his eyes boring into mine.
“Guilty.” As one, the disciples spoke my sentence.
Edward smiled. “And her punishment?”
Able stepped forward. “Excommunication.”
Another stepped forward, a young woman I didn’t recognise. “Concubine.”
A third. “Stoning.”
Finally, after each had spoken, Edward walked the room, considered their words. “Is Abishag not a daughter of Eden?” he asked.
“Yes,” came the response.
“And does God not punish, then forgive those who abandon Him?”
“Yes,” came the reply.
“Do we believe Abishag worthy of forgiveness?”
There was a mixed response.
Edward tapped his lips with a finger as he strode around, circling my chair.
“Can I say something?” I asked, fighting to get the words out. All eyes came to me.
“Speak, Sister Abishag,” Edward invited.
“You guys want the cash, I want out. Abel delivered me to you. He also wants out. I’ll give you what you want if you let both of us go.”
Edward propped a hip on the desk, crossing his arms as he considered me. “Your husband has asked for your return.”
I swallowed the bile that rose at his comment. “He has other wives. And like you said, I’ve been with other men.”
One man. I’ve only been with one man because you fucked me up. You told me I was useless. You made me think sex was dirty. You made me associate pain with love. And that one man helped me blow away all the hate and disgust you’d built.
David shoved his way through the crowd, face flushed. “I’ll take her!”
Edward considered his brother.
“The code has a kill switch.” I dropped my last bargaining chip. I looked directly at Edward, speaking just to him. “You make me stay, and it’s all gone.”
“I’ll make her–”
Edward raised a hand to silence his brother. “You wish to take her back. I understand.” Edward remained focussed on me, his head tilting slightly to the left.
“You would deprive your brethren of their dues? Your God, His glory?” he finally asked.
“You aren’t my God, and you have never be
en my brethren. I abandoned the church long before I physically left.”
There were gasps. David surged forward, slapping a hand across my face, sending me sprawling from the chair.
Groaning, I pushed myself up, spitting blood. Hands gripped me, hauling me back into the chair. Edward hadn’t moved.
“You rape children, impregnate teenagers, beat those who are different to you.” My head drooped, too heavy to lift from my chest. “You’re all monsters.”
A fist landed in my stomach, doubling me over. My hands clutched at my middle as I rapidly swallowed against the bile filling my mouth.
“Quiet, whore,” David threatened. “Edward?”
The silence was filled only with the sound of my laboured breaths.
“Brother Abel, what say you?” Edward finally asked.
There was shuffling, and then Abel’s strong voice filled the room. “I have no loyalty to my sister. I simply wish to be with my wife.”
I struggled, lifting my head as I blinked to clear my fuzzy vision. Abel’s hands clenched and unclenched, his jaw rigid.
“Sister Margery chose to leave us,” Edward pointed out. “She put her faith in man and not God.”
Abel’s hands relaxed. “That does not mean I am not still her husband.”
“You would leave our Church?”
Abel nodded once sharply.
Edward tsked. “You delivered on your indulgence. You may leave.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Take nothing with you but the documents we’ve approved. When the Final Solution comes, you will find no pardon from God. From this day, you are dead to the church.”
Abel’s knees buckled, and I watched the painfully stark relief etch across his face.
“I understand. Thank you, brother.” His eyes briefly turned to me before he looked away. “God bless you all.”
He turned on his heel, heading for the door. Edward gestured to me, beckoning me forward. Two men hauled me up, heedless of my injuries.
They pulled me forward, my feet dragging loudly on the concrete floor. They dumped me in front of Edward. My legs, unable to sustain my body weight, collapsed and I fell in a heap at his feet.
“Sister Abigshag. God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of His Son has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church I will cleanse you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen,” murmured the crowd.
Dread and fear clawed at my throat, as a heavy weight settled in my chest, constraining my breathing.
“David. You are to discipline your wife. Under your hand, she is to give us the password, transfer the money, then follow your instruction. You are to cleanse her however you see fit.” Edward squatted down, his fingers wrapping around my chin, lifting my head until my eyes met his. “You are our greatest asset, Abigshag. God has returned you to us. You will learn your place, and you will rejoice in the love of your husband, your family, your brethren, and your God. After today you will serve us. Your place is here.”
I smothered the whimpers that threatened to escape.
“They’ll come,” I whispered. “You won’t break me.”
His lips twisted up at the corners. “They can try.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Luc
The bush land around the farm lay in shadows. Nocturnal animals prowled, and the noises of the night played soundtrack to our activities.
I’d been lying in this hole for three hours, my gaze trained down the scope of the .50 calibre rifle.
Back when I’d served, this weapon had been an extension of my body, as familiar to me as my hand.
Activity at the farm had slowly reduced over the last hour. A flurry of movement to and from an outhouse, a patrol of the immediate grounds by some armed, but ultimately undertrained militia, and then quiet.
I didn’t like this.
The leaves crushed beside me as Paxton settled back into place.
He tapped my leg once. An hour to go. I lifted my shoulder slightly in acknowledgement, gaze never wavering.
A door from the outhouse burst open, a young man stumbling out. Pax and I tensed, alert as we watched. He closed the door, hands immediately going to his knees as he doubled over, sucking deep breaths. After a long moment he straightened, quickly moving toward the main farmhouse. He disappeared inside for less than ten minutes before returning with a backpack. He glanced back and forth before making for the road.
Our ear pieces crackled. “DELTA, there’s one headed your way. Follow and bring him in when able.”
My gaze remained trained on the outhouse. Paxton tapped my thigh three times. Thirty minutes to go. The door from the outhouse opened again, people streaming out. They were chattering, laughing as they headed for the farmhouse or another outbuilding.
Fuck.
We’d assumed the outhouse was a sleeping quarter. When they’d left the main house, the assumption had been they’d headed for bed. It was now late. Emmie had been missing for over ten hours.
My argument for early entry had been shot down. They’d said night would provide us with better cover and a higher degree of surprise. With this many people still awake…
This wasn’t good.
“All teams, hold for further orders,” Annabelle said over the radio.
The only external sign of my frustration was the tightening of my shoulders. I breathed out, forcing myself to relax. Stressed snipers made mistakes.
My shoulders relaxed, my breathing evening as I continued to watch the outhouse. I’d been in worst situations before. Life and death situations. Situations where, if I didn’t get the target right, my whole team would be dead. But I’d never been in a situation where the woman I loved was in danger.
Fuck.
I’m here, Keys. Stay strong.
Time slowly trudged on. The farmhouse settled. The outhouse remained lit but quiet.
Thirty minutes.
Forty.
Forty-five.
I breathed in and out, concentrating on the air in my lungs, ignoring the questions of what if. Of what was happening. Where she was.
If she still lived.
Our earpieces crackled to life, “T-minus ten minutes.” I repositioned slowly, getting ready for the surge. Beside me, Paxton tensed.
We’re a go.
A roar split the silence, followed by screams. Lights began to flick on in the farmhouse.
“Go! Go, Go, Go!” Annabelle yelled over the radio.
Pax and I surged up, heading directly for the outhouse. The scream abruptly cut off as we reached the door, our team not far behind. We fell beside the door, waiting for the tactical guys to arrive with the battering ram. They did the count, hitting it once, twice, and then it swung in, permitting us entrance.
I entered, skidding to a halt in the near-empty room.
Lights.
Blood.
Emmie.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Emmie
The door clicked shut, sealing me in with David. His big body was off to my left as he waited for the others to leave. I kept my head down, pretending to ignore him as I assessed the situation. Fear infused my body with adrenaline.
This is my time.
Years ago, I’d swore he would never hurt me again. Never degrade me the way he’d tried so long ago. I’d worked hard, trained for this moment.
I watched him from under the strands of my hair. He went to a closet off the side of the room, pulling out a large broom. With a quick twist he removed the head from the handle, tossing it away. He turned back to me, judging the weight of the pole in his hands.
“Now, you’re mine.” The handle came down, heading straight for my side. I rolled, ducking out of the way, scrambling to my feet just out of harm’s way. The sharp crack of the wood on the cement ripped through the room. He pulled up, his face mottled with rage.
“You’ve been a naughty g
irl, Abishag.” He stalked me, and I danced back, adrenaline overpowering the weakness in my legs, suppressing the aches and pains.
Hands up, look for a weakness, get the advantage, eyes on his face, look for his tell.
The wise words of each of my trainers came to me. My body fell into the natural stance and movements, reflexes honed from years of repetition.
There.
David’s eyes flickered to my right side before he shifted the handle, swinging to that spot. There it was. His tell.
Emboldened, I waited, trying to tire him as I circled, and he followed, swinging and missing. The occasional swipe caught me, but I stayed, forcing myself upright, forcing strength and courage into limbs that wanted to fail.
“Submit to your husband!” he screamed, spittle flying.
“Never!” I yelled back, dancing back towards the centre of the room.
Enraged, he let out a roar, swinging wildly, charging towards me. I ducked low, sliding under the broom handle, coming up close to him. Using his momentum, I grasped his wrist, pulling him over my shoulder and body slamming him into the floor.
His grip on the handle loosened, and I wrestled it free, turning it back on my aggressor. I beat at his head, smashing the handle into it as he screamed for mercy. I ignored his pleas, beating mercilessly at his body, heedless of the blood that arced into ever-widening patterns, covering the walls and floor.
This is my moment. Today is my revenge.
I vaguely registered pounding on the door at the same moment I realised David was silent. I dropped the broom handle, my legs finally giving out. I fell to my knees, slumping as I struggled to stay conscious.
The door burst open, and I watched as Luc cleared the entry. His beautiful eyes swept the room, coming to rest on me, then David. Blood soaked the legs of my pants.
“Emmie.” He took two quick steps, falling beside me, pulling me into his arms, his hands running up and down my body as he pressed urgent kisses to my cheeks, my lips, my hair.
“I think I killed him,” I whispered, clutching desperately at Luc’s vest.
“It’s okay,” Luc assured me, his hands still moving over my body. “I’ve got you.”
Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) Page 24
