Chapter 26
Emma
This can’t be happening.
But no matter how many times I try to repeat that to myself, when I open my eyes, I’m still sitting in the back of an SUV between Dylan and an armed guard dressed in black. Delta is behind us, whimpering and confused.
It breaks my heart.
Sweat slicks my palms, and my heart won’t seem to settle. What’s going to happen to us? Where are they taking us? Will anyone ever know what happened?
God, why? Why are You not rescuing us from this? Please, God. Please. I shut my eyes tightly, trying so hard to calm my mind. But how can I do that when death is likely waiting for us when this truck stops?
As if he can sense my nerves, Dylan reaches down between us and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. He squeezes gently, which means the world to me, especially given how much I know simple touches can cost him. I glance over at him, but he’s glaring straight ahead.
Does he think we’re going to die too?
How long have we been driving?
I try to gauge our location through the window, but truth be told, I have no idea where we even are. Did we fly around and return back to Dallas?
“How did you do it?” Dylan asks.
Heath glances back at us. “Nothing a false flight log couldn’t accomplish. As for Jesper, like he said—he owed me a debt. I collected.”
“And even though he delivered us, you still took his life.” My stomach churns as I replay the sight of him being shot and falling to the ground. Blood, so much blood. All of it still coating me.
I haven’t been able to look down at my shirt since it happened. Every time I accidentally do, my stomach rolls, and I nearly vomit all over again.
“It wasn’t a debt that could be repaid with anything but a life. He was just too arrogant to know that.”
“What debt did he owe you?” Dylan asks.
“Let’s just say your pilot had information that wasn’t his to have. He then handed that information over to the wrong person, and—well—here we are. His death was a long time coming.”
The SUV veers off the main road, following its twin in front of us, as it heads down a long driveway surrounded by thick trees. Dylan squeezes my hand once more before releasing it.
Is this it?
“I’d say I was excited for you to meet my mother, but you already did,” Heath tells me. “How is the monstrosity that birthed me? I haven’t had a chance to collect her yet but plan to soon.”
“The only monster I see is you,” I snap.
He glances back at me. “So you do have claws.” The way his gaze rakes over me makes my skin crawl. “Good to know.”
God, please don’t let him touch me. Please, God, get us out of this mess.
Heath switches his attention to Dylan. “Don’t worry, cowboy, I plan to let you live until after the wedding. What kind of monster would I be if I robbed Emmaline of having any friends to see her walk down the aisle?”
“There won’t be a wedding,” he growls, hands clenching into fists at his lap.
“And who’s going to stop it?”
Dylan grins. “Oh, I was never one for spoilers. Seeing your reaction will be half the fun.”
Heath’s grin fades just slightly. “I can’t wait to break you. It’s going to make all the trouble you gave me worth every minute.”
“You won’t touch him!”
Dylan grabs my hand again as I lunge forward, likely to keep me from doing something stupid like hitting a man who would probably enjoy it more than anything.
Heath turns back to look at me again. “You have no idea what I’m going to do. But that’s okay because you will. Pretty little small-town princess. How I am going to love ruining you.” He shifts his gaze out the windshield. “And look, we’re here.”
The SUV comes to a stop, and my stomach lurches. Dylan releases my hand as the doors open. A man grabs him by the arm and yanks him out, while the man who was sitting beside me drags me out of the car and lifts me into his arms.
I want to kick.
Scream.
Fight.
But Dylan is maintaining his composure, so I follow suit. Does he have a plan? He always has a plan, right? Didn’t he say that there wouldn’t be a wedding? That someone is coming to stop it?
God, please let that be true.
Delta is unloaded from the back, the poor animal looking just as terrified as I feel. A leash is clipped to his harness and held by a man wearing all black. They’re all in black.
My breathing is ragged, panic making my heart race. I survey the boat dock in front of us. A massive yacht is parked straight ahead, bobbing slowly with the movement of the water.
“No.” I shake my head. “No.”
“You afraid of the water, little dove?” Heath taunts.
“She can’t swim,” Mattheus offers up. “Told us that at dinner.”
Heath chuckles. “Fantastic. That only makes this even more fun.”
“It’ll be okay,” Dylan tells me.
But I’m starting to think it won’t be. I don’t know why this is happening, but unless God grants us a miracle, I don’t see a way out.
There’s a yellow sports car parked at the end of the dock, and as we get closer, a leggy redhead climbs out, wearing a black dress that barely covers to her upper thigh. Her hair is the color of the blood still saturating my shirt, her long, pointed nails the same shade.
“Did you bring me a present?” she asks, eyeing Dylan.
“No, darling Tori. I brought my wife and the guy who thought he was going to keep her from me.”
We come to a stop in front of her. She looks me over first, her dark eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong with you? Can you not walk?”
“She’s injured,” Heath replies.
“Hmm.” The woman saunters over toward Dylan and comes to a stop. “You are stunning.” She grips his face, and I watch as he pales.
“Let him go!” I yell as I thrash in the guard’s hold. He drops me, and pain shoots up through my injured leg. But I’m on my feet, so I lunge toward her, only to be ripped back by the same guard.
All while she continues pinching his face.
His body trembles, and he’s barely breathing.
Delta whimpers and pulls on the leash, trying to get closer to Dylan.
If he loses it here—a shudder runs through me. What will happen if he loses his head here? Will they shoot him without thinking? Or use his trauma to further torment him?
“I don’t take orders from you,” she says as she glares at me. “You need to learn your place in this house, darling, and it’s not as the head. You’re merely a trinket to get us everything we want.” She releases Dylan’s face but scrapes one of her sharp-as-a-talon nails over his cheek.
Blood droplets slide down the side of his face. He doesn’t even flinch.
Delta growls, low and deep, pinning his ears back against his head.
“What’s with the animal?” she asks, tone flat.
“Consider him a trophy,” Heath replies. “I plan to bend him to my will just as I’ll do his owner. A living reminder of my wedding day.”
“Do you always let your girlfriend do all of your intimidation?” Dylan asks, regaining at least some of his composure now that she’s released him.
“Oh, honey, I’m just the appetizer,” she replies, leaning in closer.
“What a shame. I’m not hungry.”
“You will be,” she replies, then turns, flipping the long tail of red hair behind her as she turns to the rest of the guards—and Mattheus—who have joined us near the dock. “Mattheus. How lovely to see you.”
“You too, beautiful,” he replies, then claps his hands. “Shall we get this going?” he asks. “I can’t wait to join our families.”
“Have some patience,” Heath tells him, then heads for the yacht.
Like moths to a flame, everyone follows. The woman falls into step beside him, while the guard who’d been carrying me lifts me again and starts walking after them. Dylan is right behind me, being escorted by two guards, while Delta is being walked beside him.
Behind all of us, a small army of armed men ensures we don’t take a single step out of line.
Venom stings my veins as my stomach rolls with every step toward the floating death trap. There will be no quick getaway. Not once we hit the water. We’ll be trapped.
Lord, where are You? Please don’t let us die here.
We walk up a ramp and onto the top level of the yacht. There are at least a dozen loungers surrounding a small round pool. A man wearing a captain’s hat stands in the doorway that likely leads to where they steer the boat. He falls into step beside us.
“Everything ready?” Heath asks him.
“Yes, Mr. Slater. We are prepped and ready for our voyage.”
“Good. I want anchors up in five minutes.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain veers off to the right while Heath’s girlfriend stops beside a lounger and removes her dress, revealing a black bikini beneath. She takes a seat on a lounger.
“See you soon, cowboy,” she calls out to Dylan.
Anger momentarily pushes past the fear. I glare back at her, and she smiles at me, completely unthreatened.
An armed guard pulls open a door and steps aside as Heath descends a set of steps. We follow, and the walls close in around us, with only dim light to keep us occupied.
I turn to watch Dylan. His eyes are wide, his body tense. He pauses at the top of the stairs, clearly terrified. Is he reliving his past? The worst moments of his life? His gaze meets mine.
It’s okay, I want to tell him. But I can’t bring attention to it, or it’ll just be another tool in Heath’s twisted toolbox. God, please help him.
The guards shove him down the first step, and he takes a deep breath, eyes closed. By the time he opens them again, he’s calmer and takes the rest of the steps one at a time.
Once we reach the bottom, Heath pushes open a door to the left, and the guards drag us inside. The guard drops me on a cot toward the right, then quickly shackles my wrist to the wall. The metal is cold on my skin. Cold and tight.
Dylan is held standing in the center of the room, one guard on either side of him.
Above his head, there are two shackles bolted to the ceiling.
No.
“Do you understand your place yet?” Heath asks him.
Dylan doesn’t respond.
Heath rams his fist into Dylan’s gut. He grunts but maintains eye contact with Heath, something that only makes our captor angry.
He hits him again.
Once more, Dylan barely reacts.
I thrash against the chains bolting me to the wall. “No! Stop it! Leave him alone!”
Heath hits Dylan again, then turns to me and smiles. “Oh, little dove, if this bothers you, then I hate to see what you’ll think later.” He hits Dylan again, this time slamming his fist into Dylan’s chin.
Dylan straightens and grins at him, blood dripping down from his lip. “There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done,” he replies. “I lived through that hell once. I’ll do it again.”
“There is so much more I can do. I’m far more imaginative than most.”
Dylan grins again, blood dripping down onto his teeth. “They all think that.”
Heath glares at him. “Kneel.”
“No.”
“Compared to you, I am a king. You will kneel.”
“I kneel to no man,” he replies. “And the only king I have is Jesus Christ.”
Heath glances back at the three men who followed us in here and Mattheus, then laughs. “You think God will save you now?” He throws his head back again and barks out an exaggerated laugh. “You’re already here. Now, bow.”
“No.”
Heath hits him again. “Submit to me, cowboy, and we’ll take this slower.”
“I will never. I kneel to no man,” he repeats.
“We’ll see about that,” he growls right back. “Chain him up. Let’s let him think on his choices for a bit.” Before he pulls away from Dylan, though, he leans in closer. “Before this is over, you both will bow to me.”
The two guards rip Dylan’s arms overhead, all while he continues glaring straight at Heath. They shackle him to the ceiling, then turn to leave, following their master like beasts on a chain.
Delta is nowhere in sight. I didn’t even realize that they hadn’t brought him down here with us. Is he scared? Confused?
My breathing turns ragged now, the panic setting in as they seal the door. We’re trapped. In the bottom of a boat.
That’s about to be out on the ocean.
Where we can’t escape.
“Breathe, Emma,” Dylan tells me.
“I’m—trying.”
“Slow, deep breaths.”
“But—I—we’re trapped. We’re trapped, Dylan. He’s going to kill you.”
“It’s going to be okay. Have faith.”
“How are you calm?” I turn to him. “How are you so calm?”
“I prayed,” he says. “And as I was standing at the top of those stairs, I felt it.”
“Felt what?”
He smiles, and despite the ugliness of our situation, there’s beauty in it. Joy. “We’re going to be just fine. No matter what happens. But I need you to keep your head and believe it. This isn’t the end of our story, Emma. Okay?”
I try to cling to his words, to tell myself that, if he’s this calm, then it means he definitely has a plan. But how can I do that when all I can picture is a million different ways Heath could torture Dylan? Will he use a whip and add to those scars on his back?
Will he hurt me to torment the man I love?
Will he decide we’re not worth the trouble and just kill us both?
“Keep your head and believe it,” Dylan said. I take a deep breath and try to steady my racing heart.
“You’re bleeding.” Blood drips from his lip where he must have bitten it when Heath hit him. It’s dripping down to the floor near his feet. Not a lot, but enough that I imagine it hurts pretty bad.
“It’s just a scratch,” he replies calmly. “We’re going to be okay, Emma. God is with us here, right? And if He’s at our side, what do we have to fear?”
God is here with us.
Seeing the vast change in Dylan on those stairs is proof of that. He went from panicked to calm nearly instantly.
God is here with us.
He has to be.
I take another deep breath. Okay, Lord. I put my faith in You. Please help us. Please.