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“I’m still having my cycle,” I argue, neck straining.

“It’s good that you’re bleeding. It’s like your body knew that you needed to purge the foul toxins.” He nods and one of his partners reaches between my legs and pulls out the tampon holding back my flow. Anex stands at the end of the bed, staring down at me, eyes fixed between my legs.

“Perfect,” he says, licking his lips. “Absolutely perfect.”

He presses the tip against my entrance.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I’ll be with you. I’ll go through the ceremony. I won’t fight. I’ll forget about Rex and Levi and Elon and Silas. I’ll be the spiritual wife you want.”

“I know you will.” My body fights against him, muscles tight and resistant. “Relax, or it’ll tear you apart. Don’t make me hurt you, because I will. Nothing can stop the path of The Way, especially not a dirty little whore that I can just as easily toss on the streets as welcome into my bed.” He wedges the tip in a bit more, lips turned up in a small, l twisted smile. “Nothing will stop me from getting what I want.”

Our gazes lock and something in me slips away. This is my leader. My guide. He’s raised me and now he’s Chosen me—yet here I am, fighting him every step, instead of embracing the honor.

To what end? The abuse of the other men in my life? The Banishment and Shunning? The loss of my friends from the donum? My educators and mentors?

This is not just my second chance. It’s myonlychance.

I exhale, forcing my muscles to release—allowing the crystal to enter my body. Allowing the final step of purification to begin. Allowing Anex what rightfully belongs to him.

Everything.

19

Levi

“Are either of you expecting a package?”

Camille stands in the doorway of the kitchen. She hasn’t said more than three sentences to us since the invitation came in the mail. Not while Elon and I discussed plans for getting Imogene away from Anex. Or how to get out in one piece ourselves.

“No,” I answer for the two of us.

She carries the large box to the table, setting it down. Leaning over I see that it’s addressed to the ‘Residents of 238 Arbor Street.’

The Serendee logo is stamped in the top corner.

Camille opens a drawer and pulls out a knife. Elon’s shoulders tense. This woman… we still don’t know her well. And we know for certain that she doesn’t trust us. We watch as she presses the point of the knife to the center of the package, slicing through the tape.

Elon leans closer, looking into the box with a wary eye, like he’s expecting a snake to jump out or something. She pushes past the tissue paper and frowns.

“Un-freaking-believable,” Camille mutters, pushing the box toward me.

It’s not a snake. It’s clothing.

“There’s a note,” Elon says, reaching inside. It's a simple card, again stamped with Serendee’s logo—the same logo branded into Imogene’s hip.“A little something to make you feel more comfortable at tomorrow’s ceremony. A car will arrive to pick you up at 11 AM.”

I dole out the items. Basic black for me and Elon; a shirt and pants. Camille’s is a dress, made from a bright blue fabric. She stares down at it and says, “He has to control everything, doesn’t he?”

“To be fair,” I say, folding my shirt into a square, “we would have looked very out of place in Secular clothing.”

Her eyes cut to me, and I expect anger. Instead, I see sadness.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” Elon asks.

“Go through with this plan. Put on this dress and play puppet to an evil man.”

Elon stares at our host, jaw set. “It’s a little late to back out now, but if you can’t, I guess we—”