My fists balled. I’ll kill him. So help me God. I was going to kill Richards.
The doctor placed a hand on my shoulder. “There’s no permanent damage, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Your wife will be fine. Future children are possible.”
I nodded. “How much longer until she wakes?”
“It could be anytime.”
As we turned I saw Stella’s hands move shakily to the bandages.
“No! Not again! Please no!”
Her pleas were music to my ears. She remembers! I rushed to her side, pushing the nurse out of the way.
“Sara, I’m here. We’re getting these off. You don’t need them.”
She blindly reached in my direction. “Jacob? Is that you? Are you here? Oh, God. Where am I?”
I fumbled with the bandages until they fell away. The small dark domes landed upon the covers, and from beneath them the most beautiful blue eyes blinked and focused on me.
“It’s me. I’m here and you’re safe.”
Her shoulders shuddered as I wrapped her in my arms.
“I tried to help,” she said. “I kept asking him questions, trying to get him to tell me information. But then he said I was going to forget everything, and then he stuck something in my neck.” She pulled back. “Why? Why didn’t it work?” Then her face dropped, her mouth slightly open. “Our baby? Did I . . . ?”
I shook my head and pulled her close. “You didn’t do anything but survive. I’m so sorry I left you. I swear to God I’m going to kill him. I can’t believe he did this to you.”
Her face burrowed into the nape of my neck. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop it,” I whispered as I rubbed small circles on her back. “You have nothing to be sorry about. The doctor said that they couldn’t confirm you were pregnant. They said the hormone level was low. They also said they did a procedure for precaution, but if you ever decide to have children in the future, it’s still an option.”
Stella stilled in my arms. When she finally looked up to me she asked, “Me? If I ever decide?” She pulled her left hand away from the grip she’d had on me. “They took my wedding ring.”
I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her left fourth finger. “I’d be happy to put another one on that finger.”
She sat taller and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I’m done being Mrs. Adams.”
“That’s good.” My cheeks rose as my first real grin surfaced. “I don’t know anyone named Adams anyway.” I brushed my thumb over her bruised eye. The color had lightened to a sickening green. “I was wondering how you feel about the name McAlister?”
The tips of her lips moved upward. “I think I like it. Sara”—her grin grew—“Stella McAlister.” Burying her face in my chest, she looked up again, with her nose wrinkled. “Stella and Jacoby. That’s going to take some time getting used to.” She brushed my cheek. “You know, I don’t care what your name is, as long as we’re both safe. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I smoothed her blonde hair away from her face. “They told me I’d lost you. When I landed in Anchorage, they told me about the mansion.”
She covered her face with her hands. “Jacob, there were women there. They called themselves the brides of The Light. They . . . belong . . .” Her hand fluttered around her neck, and I saw the faint bruise. “They said I would be . . .” Red blotches began to surface as her eyes filled with tears.
“Shhh . . . it’s over.” I pulled her close. “It’s over for them too, I’d suspect. The authorities are waiting for the house to cool enough to check for remains.”
She shook her head. “Dylan told me things, things I need to tell you.”
“You never need to tell me anything. Your thoughts are yours. I’ll take whatever you want to share.”
Her lids fluttered with the ongoing battle Stella and Sara had been having since she’d left the Northern Light. And then her stare met mine. “I don’t think that’s what I meant. I meant, you’re FBI. The FBI needs to know all the things he said. He told me that The Light is bigger than we know. He called it the Shadows.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled. “You and I both need to spend time with agents who’ll help us debrief and deprogram. I only hope that after our time in Virginia is complete, you still like the idea of Stella McAlister.”
She reached for my hand and, as they’d done a thousand times, our fingers intertwined. “I can’t make any promises, because I know from experience that life has a way of throwing curveballs, but if I were to guess, I will always like that name, and maybe one day when we’re both ready, I’d like to verify the doctor’s prognosis and create some little McAlisters.”