Chapter 33 Delilah
THIRTY-THREE
DELILAH
The sound of a key in the lock sends a jolt straight down my spine, and I quickly grab my literature, bowing my head. I stare blankly at it as the door swings open.
“Twenty-Three.” Finneas stands there, his broad body filling the entire doorway.
I glance up, fear striking through me at his expression.
It’s too calm. Terrifyingly so. And this is the first he’s communicated with me directly since my IUD removal.
I have no reason to think he isn’t angry as fuck, considering who he is and the worth these psychos put on women who can be bred.
Ew. That term gives me a serious case of the ick, but I know with everything in me that I won’t be able to stop them. There’s not really a way to prevent it now.
I can fight. I can rebel. But the end result will be the same. Steeped in misery, I allow myself a second to wallow. But only a second. From under my lashes, I eye Finneas but am unable to gauge why he’s here. This version of the cult leader almost frightens me worse than the one who rages.
My heart beats frantically like a psychotic butterfly’s wings inside my chest. Don’t give him more reason to come down on you.
I slip from the bed and directly to my knees, bowing my head and staring at the floor.
Ever so slowly, I swallow past the thick lump in my throat so that repeating their mantra is possible as is expected of one of their well-behaved women.
Well-behaved. That idea fills my mouth with a taste so bitter, I wish I could actually spit it out.
Instead, I imagine the vileness of it all leaves me with each phrase that neatly passes my lips.
“I follow. I honor. I nourish. I kneel.” Focusing on his boot-clad feet, I do my best not to show any sign of the thoughts whirling around inside my head.
An unsteady breath that simply won’t be contained shudders from me.
The weight of his stare is heavy, and a moment later, Finneas grunts his approval.
“Get up. You’re going to make yourself useful to us today.
” I have no idea what he means by that, but I scramble to my feet, and he grips my elbow, steering me from the room.
In the main area of the cellar, he pauses, eyeing the children.
“Brand, Bodhi, and Summit will be with you and Eight today.”
I feel like I’ve been dropped into some alternate universe. What the fuck. Me? With the children? Slowly, I nod, confusion swarming inside my head.
“Boys, time to go outside.” Finneas gestures to the stairs, and in an uncharacteristic show of kindness, he smiles at them.
“We hunting morels, Father?” the oldest questions.
At my side, Finneas nods, then picks up a woven wicker basket and hands it to him.
Inside, there’s just a butter knife. My brows knit together.
I have no idea what morels are or why we’d need a basket to hunt them.
“Go on,” he grunts. “Eight is out there waiting for you already. Twenty-Three will follow in a minute.” The small boys jump up and down, clapping.
One of the two younger ones—Summit, I think?—grins at me. “Twenny-Free coming too?”
He’s so genuinely excited by the prospect of having me join them it nearly knocks me flat. And as nervous as I am about whatever is going to happen, this child has done nothing wrong, nor does he understand my circumstances, so I smile back and nod.
After they bound up the stairs, Finneas tugs me close to him, cupping my chin in his rough hand.
“Show me you’re sorry for what you’ve done, Twenty-Three.
” His dark eyes stare into mine, his breath feathering over my lips.
I want to wrench his hand away and escape the sick feeling of his exhales as they slither over my skin.
“Demonstrate that you can follow orders, girl,” he whispers, fingers digging into my cheek.
“I bet you’re wondering why I’m having you join them. ”
His eyes are cold and cruel. I also have no idea what we’re supposedly hunting, but I press my lips together and give a brief nod.
He rests a hand on my lower back and pulls me agonizingly closer.
“It’s simple, sweetheart. I want to see how well you do with children.
” I blink, but the bastard waits until I look up at him from under my lashes to continue.
“You know, because we’ll be filling your womb soon.
” His other hand lands on my lower abdomen, and he palms it before laughing and steering me toward the stairs.
Asshole. I clamp my lips shut, and hurry to get away from him so he can’t touch me again.
I’m about halfway up when he calls out, “Over and over, we’ll make that belly swell.” The dark chuckle that follows makes my jaw clench.
I pause mid-step, closing my eyes against the images barreling through my mind. Just go. Follow his instructions. Be a good little cult zombie.
“Find Eight,” he calls out from the bottom. “She knows what to do.”
Outside, the children run around, playing their version of tag under the silent woman’s supervision. As I approach, Brand comes to a standstill beside us. “Can I tell her, Eight?” At her nod, he eyes me and barrels on without waiting for my response. “Do you know anything about mushrooms?”
I shake my head. Mushrooms?
“Morels,” Brand smiles, bright eyes twinkling in the sunlight. “We hunt for them in the woods in the damp near the old, dying trees. They’re good in soup.”
Hesitantly, I whisper, “Okay,” before flicking my gaze to Eight. She nods, so I guess speaking to the boys won’t get me in trouble.
“We get to use sticks to poke around!” Bodhi shrieks in delight.
Brand rolls his eyes, almost indulgently, and nudges the other boy with his finger. “Bodhi, remember, poke the ground, not Summit.” At that, all three boys giggle, the younger ones nodding happily. “Let’s go.”
As we walk, Eight and I trailing behind, I notice that Brand’s features are strikingly similar to Hayze’s.
The shade of his blue eyes is the same, as is the shape of his face.
He might be about the age of an early elementary school student—first grade, maybe?
Glancing over his shoulder at me, he explains a little more.
“So, you’re going to be searching for something that looks kinda like—”
“Little brains!” Bodhi shouts with a whoop as he takes off running. Brains? My nose wrinkles, and I find Eight’s eyes focused on me. She shrugs. I take that to mean whatever sort of mushrooms these are, they likely do look a lot like brains.
As we approach the tree line, my eyes track around, taking note of everyone currently outside.
Malakai is in the fenced-in area I’d seen him working in yesterday, and this time Arrow is there, too.
Both pairs of eyes are on us. I reach up, touching the column of my throat.
The wild flutter of my pulse against my fingers has a surge of images racing to my mind.
Late nights, waking to find Arrow with me.
Malakai and I, hiding in the barn. And …
more. I exhale carefully, averting my gaze, but their stares remain trained on me.
Summit hands me a stick, and I walk around for what seems like quite some time with the boys as we all nudge bits of debris aside, looking for … I still don’t quite know what.
Bodhi is the first to shout. “Found one!”
Jutting his chin toward the other boy, Brand says, “Where there’s one, there’s more.” He picks up the knife and peers up at me. “You wanna hold the basket?”
I nod. “Sure.” Watching, we wait while Brand cuts through the stem above ground, then deposits the weird looking shroom in the basket.
The boys eagerly begin poking around, gently moving brush and debris aside as they peek underneath, looking for more.
Several minutes and a handful of morels later, the boys seem satisfied they’ve found all this spot has to offer, so we move a little deeper into the woods.
I decide to join in and, with the littlest boy tagging along after me, we walk a short distance from the others.
Taking my time, I let my mind wander while Summit happily digs around a few feet away.
He’s abandoned the stick, little fingers clawing into the dirt.
I glance over, noting the excitement on his face as his movements become faster.
“I got someting, Twenny-Free!”
“Good job,” I call out to him because it seems appropriate, but then frown. Whatever he’s found is larger than a mushroom. The breath leaves my body in a rush as he turns toward me and holds it up.
Shock fills me. I begin to tremble as I stare, stumbling backward.
My heel catches on something, and my arms pinwheel, but there’s nothing to grab onto to prevent my downward trajectory.
On my ass in the dirt, I shake. I’m trapped inside a nightmare.
My stomach rebels, bile climbing all the way to the back of my throat.
His little arms shaking with effort, Summit lifts his treasure in front of him with a wide, toothy grin. “Yook!”
Eyes locked on the dirt-covered skull the child holds proudly, air finally hits my lungs and a wretched, clawing noise erupts from my mouth. I suck in another breath and let loose a long, bloodcurdling scream.
Get MAYHEM RIOTS to find out what chaos ensues after Summit tries to gift Delilah the skull.