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Imogene holds up the colorful box. “It’s called a Pop-Tart.”

I glance at the toaster. “Because it pops up when it’s ready.”

“Right?” she says, picking hers apart with her fingers and eating it one small piece at a time. “I shouldn’t like it but…”

“It’s just so good.”

Everything we ate at Serendee was grown there. Everything natural. We had all natural sweeteners, from fruits or honey, but nothing like the gritty substance in this tart. It feels luxuriously defiant, sitting in Camille’s kitchen, eating foods that would make Anex’s blood boil.

I take another bite.

“I think I should call Agent McNair,” she says, resting her half-eaten tart on her plate. “Maybe if I talk to her directly again, I can get her to understand.”

“Camille said we should let the lawyers handle it.”

“I just think that maybe if I can explain everything, she’ll let them go.”

I shake my head. It may be my first time eating a Pop-tart, but I’m more familiar with the secular world than Imogene. “It’s easy to say the wrong thing and make it worse.”

Because of our positions in the community, we’d been instructed on how to talk to authorities outside of Serendee. Primarily—don’t. And if you have to? Tell them nothing. Anex believes the government is filled with lying bureaucrats who will go to any length to keep ordinary citizens under their thumb. They want to control our lives, our health, and autonomy.

She runs her thumb over the edge of the table. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

I take her hand, linking our fingers together. “I know. It wouldn’t be on purpose, but what we see as normal, they don’t. Rex and Elon were involved in a lot of illegal activities. Especially the drugs—”

“They didn’t have a choice,” she argues. “No more than you had one to run the brothel, or I had in choosing my mate.”

“You and I both know that, but to outsiders it’s confusing. The police won’t see it that way.” I tug at her hand, and she stands, moving from her chair and into my lap. I circle my arms around her and hold her against my chest.

“Camille said she’d try to do something,” she says.

It’d felt like a miracle when I’d woken up with Imogene that morning. Soft and warm. Just her scent was enough to evoke an emotion, something I’d been suppressing for weeks now—too afraid to hope we’d survive Anex’s will.

Then she told me about what he’d done to her. The purification ritual. He’s so full of shit. Always manipulating and trying to get the upper hand. There’s nothing he loves more than demeaning women. Never again. Not with Imogene at least. Those days are over—she’s free.

We changed into secular clothing. Soft yellow shorts for Imogene and an oversized T-shirt. She’d tossed me a shirt from the drawer. It had a worn lettering across the front,Whittmore University 5k. I tugged it on along with a pair of flannel pajamas and followed her to the kitchen.

Camille had been gone when we got down there. Leaving us a note and the box of Pop-Tarts to eat. There was an apology saying they were all she had and were normally for kids that came through the house. She didn’t give a time for her return.

“Maybe if I go down there, it’ll work. Barter with information. I worked in the Center. I know things—where he keeps his paperwork.” Her finger traces the faded lettering on my shirt. “I could demand to see him.”

“I want to bring them home as much as you do, but we have to be smart about this—safe.” She frowns. “I don’t think we should leave the house. He could be watching.”

Imogene’s eyes dart to the window. “Do you think?”

“I don’t know, babe, but we have to be careful, and patient.” I know for certain Anex isn’t going to let us go this easily. Especially not her. He had plans for Imogene, dark and obsessive. There’s no way he’s going to give her up. She doesn’t need to know that—not now. I just want her to feel safe. To feel loved and I’ll do everything I can to make that happen.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not known for my patience,” she says. “That’s why my journal is filled with so many lapses.”

Grabbing her thigh, I hitch her leg over my thigh until she’s straddling me. Her hips rock into me and my cock responds immediately. I groan, and she laughs.

“Since you won’t let me call Agent McNair, and we’re trapped in the house, maybe you have some ideas about what we can do with our time?”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I don’t want to rush you after—”

After what he did to her. Us.

Her eyes meet mine, intense and determined. “He hurt both of us, Silas. Played games with our bodies and used us to advance himself.” Her lips are a hair's breadth away. “I won’tlet him be part of this.”