Chapter 42 Bruised Side Down
bruised side down
Sariah
Running hellbent for leather, I fly from the cabin, stark naked and screaming. “Nooooo.”
I care none that my breasts bounce oddly as I run, that my feet sting with pine needles and tree debris, that a man will soon be chasing me, angrier than I’ve ever known.
To my horror, I watch as the girls are ready for “sacrifice” as I was told so many times before. All go willingly. All but one.
I wish I had time to be proud of my strong girl for struggling and thrashing. I wish I had time to tell her I love that she used her voice to fight against this injustice.
But the moment I open my mouth, I’m tackled from behind. The stench of fetid breath meets my nostrils as the man I kicked pins me to the earth. “You bitch.”
I hate this life I was born into. My biological mother is here in this crowd, watching. Doing absolutely nothing. She’s been broken too many times to have anything left with which to fight.
But that’s still no excuse.
I brought this on my own daughter because I wasn’t smart enough to run far enough or fast enough and because I allowed myself to be outed by the news. But I still have fight in me. Until my last breath, I’ll fight. Like hell I’ll go down quietly.
“Renée!” I yell until my throat burns and my face is pressed, bruised side down, into the ground below me.
If she watches me fight—if she watches me die—it would be better than me doing nothing.
“Mom,” she screams right back. Fear clogs her voice.
“Remember.” My word dies in the dirt as the man behind me grows hard at my back.
Cian
I know I promised. I know we agreed. I know I’ll hear about it from my brother for abandoning my assignment.
And I don’t give a single fuck.
I look to the dais as Renée’s hood is pulled down to her chin.
I have time. I can save them both.
There has to be time.
I slide through the cover of the trees as quietly as I can, thankful for training at altitude and for healing, mostly at least, from the debacle with my father.
I break my cover from them at a full-on run, tackling the guy who dares to think he could have my woman—my Angel—and, with a strength I never knew I had, I shove the palm of my hand into his nose.
The angle must be in my favor because it doesn’t break, it must’ve impaled his brain. The fucker is dead.
I take no time to celebrate it, but grab Sariah, taking one look at her face and vowing revenge of the highest order.
Later.
Later I will fix this, but now…
A scream rends the air, and we both turn to see a man standing over Renée. The shiny glint of a knife is held aloft as he speaks some weird fucking incantation or prayer. In this place, there’s no distinction. No God would accept this.
The blood is what I see first.
Blood everywhere.
As screaming fills the night sky.
My heart hits my feet as numbness flows from my head, overtaking… everything.