Leaning closer to my husband, I melted against his strong arm, closed my eyes, and drank in his intoxicating scent of leather and musk. While tall grass rustled all around us, Jacob pulled us to a stop, removed his jacket, and laid it upon the cool ground. In the middle of the circumpolar North he’d provided us with the perfect place to sit. When I did, he laid his head in my lap, and I ran my fingers through his dark, wavy hair. His deep voice and soft laugh were but drugs to my already-inebriated system, electrifying my senses as they reverberated from him to me.
As we spoke, the gentle breeze tousled my blonde hair, fluttering pieces around my face. Jacob’s large hand gently tucked a renegade strand behind my ear. Eager for more of his touch, I inclined my cheek toward his palm. His warmth combined with the rough tips of his fingers lingered, cupping my cheek as he wordlessly encouraged me forward until our lips were but a whisper apart.
Their contact overloaded my body—soft yet firm, demanding yet giving. My chest heaved as a moan escaped. With the increase in my pulse, my nerves came to life, and impulses sparked synapses that only he could ignite.
Noise.
Commotion.
Startled.
The office door opened, rattling the beveled glass with excessive force. Lost in my dream, I couldn’t make out the words or accusations hurtling from his lips, though my skin prickled with goose bumps at the tone and volume. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I momentarily focused on Brother Elijah, our eyes meeting, mine scared and confused while his burned with hatred and vengeance. Lowering my eyes, I searched for Dylan’s phone, but before I could find it, my scalp cried out in pain.
Grabbing a fistful of my hair, Brother Elijah threw me from the sofa to the floor. Dazed and sore, I tried to make out the words as his threatening voice boomed through the office, echoing in my ears.
“. . . playing us for a fool. No one leaves The Light! Your zero-tolerance policy has expired.”
“I don’t understand,” I managed as he pulled me to my feet. However, as I stood I saw his fist, not even an open hand as Thomas had hit me with, and I turned, shielding my face. Unfortunately, my cheek hadn’t been his intended target.
I coughed and spit as my lungs tried to inflate. The second blow to my stomach sent me back to the floor.
“No!” I screamed, covering my face and pulling my knees to my stomach.
This couldn’t be happening.
Who would do this, knowing I could be pregnant?
As Brother Elijah’s large foot reared back to kick where he’d punched, I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle.
Sound.
Loud.
Deafening.
The room exploded. A flash through my closed lids sent shock waves that accelerated my already too-fast heartbeat. The vociferous bang echoed endlessly against the walls, submerging and drowning out everything else. The kick never came, as I floated in the waves of the explosion, and my heart ached at the loss I feared I’d already suffered.
A few days, that was what Jacob had said.
I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted to go back to the north acres. Maybe if I gave in to the waves . . .
“Sara,” the deep voice coaxed, as a warm hand smoothed my hair away from my face. “Sara, we have to get out of here.”
I shook my head. No! This wasn’t Jacob. It was Dylan. I needed Jacob.
“Sara,” he said more emphatically, pulling on my hand. “Can you stand? Oh my God! I heard him. Get up. I need to get you out of here.”
My eyes, filled with questions, opened.
Before I could process the idea that Dylan was taking me away, I gasped. Inches from where I lay, right in front of me, were the dark eyes that had looked at me with intense hatred. No longer did they send fear through my body. They were open and lifeless while around them Brother Elijah’s black skin sagged and spit dripped from his partially open mouth.
Painfully I jumped to my feet.
“Oh! He’s . . . he’s . . .”
“He’s dead,” Dylan confirmed, tucking his gun back into a holster I remembered he occasionally wore beneath a sports jacket. “And we need to get out of here.”
“B-but.” I couldn’t articulate as my stomach cramped, doubling me over and bending my knees.
“No, Sara. No fainting. We need to leave now.”
I nodded, petrified to leave but terrified to stay.
Dylan seized my hand and pulled me toward the door. Just as my slippers hit the marble and I left behind the carpet that was now literally red with blood, I stopped. When Dylan’s panicked blue eyes met mine, I said, “Fred! We can’t forget Fred.”
Immediately, I knew my mistake.
“Brother Dylan,” I said, trying to recover, “wasn’t that what you called the fish?”
For a millisecond his panicked expression changed and his eyes narrowed. And then, instead of speaking, he rushed past me, into the office, and grabbed Fred’s container. Securing it in one hand and my hand in his other, he led me through unfamiliar hallways, pulling me until we emerged into the backyard.
“We need to get down to the outbuildings. There’s a car down there. There’s no way we can leave from the front of the house.”
I gasped at the darkness. With the only indication of light coming from the pool, the expanse before the outbuildings seemed insurmountable. I stood unmoving, my midsection cramping and the reminders on my back still sore.