Page 11

C yrus drives slowly past the towering gates, the compound looming ahead, just as fucking awful as I remember. The car rolls to a stop near the main building, and my heart thunders as I see familiar faces turn to look at us. I don't give anyone a chance to approach.

The gun is at Cyrus's temple before he can even open his door, and slowly, he winds the window down. “Don’t fucking move,” I snap, my voice a sharp command that cuts through the air. “Go get my father. You tell him to come out here, or I will shoot this motherfucker and scatter his brains across this compound.”

The group of men exchange glances, their eyes flicking between me and Cyrus. I see the disbelief on their faces, but I don’t flinch.

“Now,” I bark. “One wrong move, and he’s dead. I swear it.”

They hesitate, and I see the doubt. The uncertainty. They think they know me, but they don’t. Not anymore. They are about to see the true damage that years of abuse has done, only it won’t result in the fragile girl they think they can manipulate. I will shoot everyone here if I have to.

“Go!” I yell, the gun steady in my hands. “Or do I need to start putting holes through people?”

Finally, one of them moves, turning and rushing towards the main house. I watch him disappear inside, my heart pounding and my grip firm. Cyrus sits rigid beside me, his face a mask of controlled anger. He’s scared, I can see it in his face, and it gives me a rush I didn’t know I needed.

We are not getting out of this car until I know for certain that it is safe to do so.

“You think this is going to work?” he mutters, his voice low.

“Oh, I know it will,” I say, my voice unwavering.

The seconds drag, each one heavy and suffocating. I see figures moving inside, a flurry of activity, and then the door swings open. My father steps out, his face impassive, his eyes locking onto mine with a calm that makes my stomach churn.

He walks towards the car with a measured pace, the others trailing behind him like obedient shadows. My pulse quickens, and I force myself to stay composed, to be the girl they don’t expect. The girl who won’t break.

As they near, I push the gun into Cyrus’s temple, my finger ready. “Tell them,” I say, my voice low but firm.

Cyrus’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he won’t do it. But then he speaks, his voice carrying through the yard. “She’s serious. Don’t do anything stupid.”

My father’s eyes narrow, but he holds up a hand, signaling the others to stop. Tension crackles in the air, and I know this is my chance. I take one more look around, making sure nobody is hiding anywhere, and then order Cyrus out of the car. He gets out first, and only then do I step out, pointing the gun right at my father this time.

The silence is deafening.

Weapons in this compound are illegal, and I know it. That’s how I know I’m the only one here with a gun.

“What do you want?”

My father’s voice is calm, and I hate that I can’t see any fear in his eyes.

It will be the best day of my life when I see fear.

Then, and only then, will I know I’ve won.

“You know what I want, Daddy,” I mutter, my voice laced with sarcasm.

A slow smile spreads across his face, more evil than even him. “Now, Nia, you don’t want this to get ugly, do you?”

I laugh, a sharp, bitter sound. “Ugly? You haven’t even seen ugly yet.” I wave the gun, reminding him I have it.

“You have no leverage,” my father replies, his voice dripping with contempt. “You think a gun is going to save you?”

“It got me this far,” I shoot back, my gaze steady. “And if you don’t want someone to die, you will hear me out.”

His jaw tenses, and it is so incredibly satisfying, I could scream with laughter. But I don’t. I just keep my eyes fixed on his.

“I ask you again, daughter. What do you want?”

“I want to see Lily. I want to know she is okay. I want your word she can leave with me when this is all said and done, and that you will never fucking look for us again. If you agree, I will give you what you want.”

His eyes flash, cold and calculating. “And what do you think that is?”

I don’t hesitate. I know exactly what he wants. “You want the club destroyed.”

The words hang between us, a dark truth that I can't deny.

His eyes narrow. “And why, dare I ask, do you think that?”

“Don’t play with me, Father. You and I both know they won’t stop until they destroy you and this pathetic fucking cult you have created. I promise you that.”

He doesn’t say a word, the silence hangs for so long I wonder if he will deny my truth.

“You are correct. I know they will never stop until we are all ruined. I can’t have that, so I will agree to your terms, but in return, I want information that can bring them down. Entrances. Routines. Security. Everything. If you do not give that to me, I will ensure Lily never sees the light of another day.”

His demand sends a chill up my spine, but I hold his gaze, refusing to show fear.

“You’re a monster, you know that?” I mutter. “For someone who claims to follow God, you are an insult. Letting a child suffer is far from holy, Father.”

He flashes his teeth, a threat. “Do we have a deal, or not?”

“Not until I have seen her. Not until I have seen with my own eyes that she gets food, water, bedding, and medical treatment. When I see that, we have a deal.”

“You demand a lot of me, daughter.”

“Do you want my help or not? I’m happy to let the club come in here and destroy you.”

My father tips his head to the side. “Then your child dies.”

I wave the gun. “I’m not here to play. Make the choice, or I can leave and let them do what they need. Not until I put a bullet through you, first. Of course.”

I smile.

He hesitates.

Yes. There it is.

He is uncertain.

It feels so fucking good.

“Very well, Nia. I will give you what you want. You can see the child now, and I will order her to be fully taken care of. When I have what I want, you and she will be free.”

“Swear it?” I demand. “On the Lord himself.”

His lips curl. “I swear it on the Holy Savior himself.”

A cold, hard promise, but a promise nonetheless.

“Take me to her.”

He nods.

A deal has been made.

I'M LED THROUGH THE compound, my heart pounding with each step, the gun a heavy presence in my hand. I see familiar faces, but I don't flinch. They think they know me, but they don't. Not anymore. I am determined, and I am not going to let anything get in my way. My father walks ahead, the picture of calm and control, but I see the tension in the set of his shoulders. He knows I mean business. He knows I'm serious.

I love that right now, he doesn’t know what I’ll do.

Right now, he doesn’t have the upper hand.

Nothing could make me happier.

We reach the tent where they keep the sick, and I hesitate outside, fear clawing at my insides. What if they’re too late? What if I’ve done all this for nothing? I shake the thoughts away. I can’t afford to think like that. She has to be okay, she has to be fighting like I know she can.

They push the flap open, and I step inside, my heart in my throat.

The smell of sickness and dirt hits me first, and I reel back, trying not to let it show. The tent is dim, and a few people lay in the sick bays, and then I see her. Lily. My heart breaks. She’s curled up on a thin mattress, her skin pale and her small body shaking with each breath.

"Lily," I whisper, rushing over and coming to a stop beside her, reaching out and putting my hand on her clammy cheek.

It kills me to see her like this.

I can’t help but blame myself.

Maybe I should have just come back...

Her eyes flutter open, and even in the low light, I see how hollow they are. "Nia?" she croaks.

"It’s me," I force a smile to my face, keeping the gun down by my side so she can’t see it. "I’m here. You’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure you get some medicine."

"Are you going to leave again?"

It kills me to know that my absence is causing this kind of pain.

"Listen to me, honey," I say, leaning down so only she can hear me. "I’m going to come back, and when I do, I’m going to take you from here and we are going to live in a great house together, you can go to school, make friends and we will be happy. I promise."

Her little eyes widen. "I’ll have my own room and toys?"

"Everything you could ever imagine. I just need you to be strong for me now. Keep fighting, honey. I promise you I’m going to get us out of here."

She frowns. "I feel really sick."

"I know, and we’re going to get something for that right now."

I turn and face my father, my voice hardening. "Get her what she needs. Now."

Nobody moves.

I pull the gun, cocking it. "I’m waiting."

He nods sharply, signaling to Cyrus. "Do it. Antibiotics, painkillers, a drip."

Cyrus hesitates, his eyes flicking to me, then back to my father. He nods, turning to leave, and I see the anger in his face. The frustration. He doesn’t want to do it, he’s hoping something will happen so he can stay right here.

Over my dead body.

"Move it," I hiss. "I’m not going to ask again."

Cyrus grits his teeth, but he leaves, and I know he’s going to do it.

I turn back to Lily, brushing damp hair from her eyes, trying to keep my hands steady.

"They’re going to get you medicine and you’re going to feel so much better. I promise."

My father speaks from behind me. "She’s weak. But it’s not her body I’m worried about. It’s her soul. She’s suffering because of you, Nia. Your betrayal. You can fix this, you know that. You can stop her pain."

I turn and glare at him. "Your delusion is terrifying. You’re the reason she is like this, because you refuse to give her treatment."

"She is weak. It is God’s will. If He wanted her to live, she would."

I want to reach over and put this gun to his head, pulling the trigger. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. But I refuse to give in to him. Right now, I just want to make sure Lily gets what she needs.

"Well, she won’t be your problem when I take her out of here. I want your word she will get what she needs every single day."

"Only if you give us what we need," he says, his voice smooth and infuriatingly calm.

"I said I would." The words feel like a noose tightening around my neck.

Cyrus returns, his arms full—a bag of saline, vials of medicine, a pack of syringes. He stops, glancing at my father, waiting for orders.

"Get a nurse," my father commands.

Cyrus’s gaze shifts to me and he nods, placing the items down before leaving the tent again and returning a moment later with a nurse. Helga, I think her name is. She glares at me, and I know if she had her way, she would probably put me down just as quick as the rest of them.

"Give this child what she needs," my father orders.

Helga nods, sharply, and gets to work.

"You’re making a mistake," Cyrus mutters, his voice low and defiant. "She’s not your concern. She’s not your responsibility."

"Shut your mouth," I mutter.

Lily whimpers as the needle goes in, and I rush over, squeezing her hand, whispering soothing words that I hope will comfort her. "You’re so brave, honey. So strong. It’s going to be okay. You will feel so much better soon."

The tent is silent except for Lily's labored breathing and the steady drip of the IV. I watch it, unable to look away, counting each drop as if my own life depends on it. In a way, it does. I can’t leave until I’m sure it’s all in her, until I know she has enough to survive the next few days.

Cyrus watches, his eyes dark with anger and something else—maybe disbelief that I’m actually doing this.

I don’t care.

I won’t move until the bag is empty.

I won’t move until I know she's safe.

The minutes drag, each one an eternity.

Then, Lily groans and turns to her side, and suddenly, she’s vomiting everywhere. I gasp, rushing over, but immediately, the smell turns my stomach and before I can stop it, I’m reeling back, my hand over my mouth, my entire body shaking as I try to force the vomit back down.

I can’t.

I rush out of the tent, falling to my knees, not releasing the gun, and I vomit onto the ground. Goddammit. This has never happened to me before, and I know why. Deep down, I know why.

Forcing myself to my feet, I wipe my mouth and take a deep, shaky breath.

Lily needs me.

Turning, I go back into the tent but stop when I see Cyrus and my father at the entrance, their expressions dark.

"It has come true. Everything we ever believed," Cyrus whispers, his eyes wide. "The child prophet is here."

My world spins as I understand what they are saying.

"Change of plans," my father says. "You’re not going anywhere."

No.

"You’re carrying my child," Cyrus says, and his face breaks into a huge smile. "As His word stated, the child will save us all."

Oh.

God.

No.