Page 59 of Badlands (Nora Kelly #5)

C ORRIE WATCHED AS Nora, screaming and fighting, was thrown into the kiva.

Skip was now hanging above the pile of wood, trussed up like a deer about to be butchered.

He’d stopped pleading and screaming, and she wondered if he’d passed out—mercifully—or if he was just too paralyzed with fear to make any further protest.

That was going to be her fate as well.

They’d had a good plan, and they’d executed it well…

but it had failed, and now there would be no getting out of this.

The wind had picked up tremendously, roaring and gusting down the canyon, tearing at the fire and sending embers streaming off into the darkness.

If only she’d waited to make voice contact with Watts before heading out of cell range.

If only she’d told Sharp about her plan.

If only, if only . Even if she had—even if by some chance law enforcement had deduced where she was, deduced what dire straits they were all in—she felt certain no rescue chopper could fly in this weather.

Now two of the brutes approached Skip, wielding obsidian knives.

Jesus Christ, she thought in horror, recalling the appearance of Edison Nash’s body before it was burnt.

They’re going to flay him alive .

One gripped his torso while the other sliced off his baggy shirt, tossing aside the pieces and exposing his pasty white chest. This roused Skip again, and he began shouting and twisting, pleading incoherently as he writhed.

Was this really happening?

It felt like a dream—a ghastly, unreal nightmare.

It had to be a nightmare—something this awful didn’t happen in real life.

It was found in only the darkest recesses of subconsciousness…

With Skip’s shirt off, one of the cultists steadied the flailing body, gripping it hard in order to make the job easier, while the other ran a thumb along the edge of his knife, testing it for sharpness.

Then he approached the upside-down figure, raising his knife hand and readying it for a cut down Skip’s back.

Corrie turned away, unable to watch such cruelty, such pure evil.