Chapter 9 Saint #2
The manipulation is transparent, offering protection with one hand while threatening with the other. He’s trapped me as surely as if I were still chained to the bed. There isn’t a path I can see that doesn’t lead to pain.
For me. For Dad. For Allie. There’s no good option, only degrees of terrible.
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.
The position is familiar, comforting. “What would it mean?” I ask finally, my voice small. “To be married to you?”
Calder moves closer, cautious. Like he knows I’m a wounded animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. “It would mean you’re mine. Under Bishop protection. Part of the family. No one touches you.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” I force myself to meet his cold blue eyes. “Would you expect—-” my voice trails off, my cheeks growing warm. “Would this be a real marriage?”
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “Are you asking if I’d force you to fuck me?”
My cheeks heat to the temperature of the sun.
Does he have to be so brash? I nod, afraid of what my voice might sound like if I say the words.
I need to know. I need to understand the full scope of what will be expected of me.
The memory of last night flashes through my mind—how my body awoke under his touch even though it was against my will.
Would it be so bad if he wants sex?
“No,” he says firmly. “I’d never force you. What happened yesterday—that was different. That was me being a bastard who couldn’t resist touching you. I wouldn’t take what I’ll entice you to give me willingly.”
I scoff but don’t comment. “Then what would you expect from me?”
“Cooperation. In public, you play your part. Make people believe we’re together by choice. That you want to be my wife.” He watches my reaction carefully. “I can’t imagine it will be easy to act as if you love the man who kidnapped you.”
At least he admits it. At least he’s not pretending this is anything other than what it is, coercion wrapped in the illusion of choice.
“Not really, no.” I swallow around the ball of anxiety forming in my throat.
He crouches down in front of me, his eyes level with mine. Up close like this, I can see the exhaustion etched into his skin, see the tension in his jaw. Even though he hasn’t said it, it’s clear this is weighing on him.
“I can’t promise that I’ll be a good husband.
Can’t promise not to be jealous or possessive or demanding.
I’m a man after all, and you’re a beautiful woman.
It won’t be easy. It’ll be really hard, and you might come to hate me, but I promise, Saint, if you do this, I will keep you safe.
I will give you whatever freedoms I can within the bounds of our marriage, and I will never force you into my bed. ”
“Until I want you to.” I roll my eyes. “That’s what you mean to say.”
There’s no missing the hunger and lust in his eyes. “Exactly, and at some point, you’ll accept the truth for what it is. Either way, no matter what, that will be your choice to make.” The air between us is charged, electric.
I can feel his lips on mine, his fingers touching parts of me that even I haven’t explored. To accept what he’s offering would be a terrible idea, but there are no other options, and time is slipping away. God help me.
What is wrong with me? Why am I even considering marrying the man who threatened and kidnapped me? Never mind the thought of him touching me, and the way my body lit up, begging for more. I can’t make the want, the desire I feel for him, disappear.
My heart, my body, it refuses to forget even when the proof of how terrible and dangerous he is is right in front of me.
“What do you say?” he asks.
I wish I could unsee the way he’s looking at me, like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once.
It would make it easier for me to see him as the villain, the monster in this terrible nightmare.
Except I know, deep down, there’s more to this.
That there is more to Calder than what meets the eye.
“I don’t know.” I whisper.
“The rodeo is in a few days,” he says, standing. “That’s when we need to make our debut. Show the whole town, including my father.”
“Days?” I shake my head, panic rising in my throat. “That’s not enough time. How can we pull that off?” I touch my wrist where the skin is raw, almost like the bite of pain will remind me that this is really real.
“We will pull it off.” He moves to the kitchen area and rounds up ingredients. “I have a plan. Tomorrow, we will go to your father. Get the marriage license. Make it legal.”
“You’re out of your mind. There is no way he will agree to this.” Even as I say it, I know it’s not true. Not if Calder threatens everything my dad has built.
“Oh yes, he will, especially when the alternative is worse. Besides, we need it to be him. It’ll lend legitimacy to the arrangement in my father’s eyes.” Calder starts preparing food with efficient, competent movements. “I need to feed you.”
I watch him work, all while my mind races with potential plans. What if I escaped? What if we went on the run? Could I convince my father to go with me? Could we disappear somewhere the Bishops couldn’t find us?
Even as I think it, I know the answer. The Bishops own half of Montana. Their reach extends beyond Black Hollow Creek. Plus, there’s Allie—what would happen to her if we ran?
Dread wraps around me. I’m trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but enough for Calder to cook.
When he brings me a plate, I eat mechanically, not really tasting anything. He sits across from me at the small table, his presence overwhelming in the confined space.
Every bite of food feels like I’m swallowing stones.
Tense silence stretches between us. His gaze roams my body, studying me, measuring my reactions. When we’re done, he washes the dishes while I sit on the bed, wrapped in my mother’s quilt like armor.
“While our marriage is fake, it will be legitimate to everyone else. That means even after you’re safe, once my father is no longer a threat to us, we stay married.
” Calder says. His expression is serious, almost grim.
“Once you’re mine, you’ll stay mine. Bishop marriages don’t end in divorce. If you agree to this, it’s permanent.”
The finality of his words makes my chest tight. He claims this is survival, but the choice I make today will dictate my entire existence.
“This—” I can’t even wrap my head around it. “This is a big choice. My entire life, and future is on the line.”
“Technically, it’s bigger than that, but yes.”
“Explain to me again what is going to happen.”
“The rodeo is our deadline. The plan is to show up together, married. Doing this forces my father to accept it. Questioning it too hard will make him look weak. Bishops don’t do anything that makes them look weak,” he explains.
I want to disappear. To wake up from this terrible nightmare.
“I need water,” I say, my voice barely audible.
He nods, and turns back toward the kitchen, walking over to the pump. He pumps some water into a cup. He still has his back to me when the thought hits me.
I can’t explain it. All I can do is let instinct guide me.
The beat of my heart is so loud I can hear it in my ears as I slide off the bed.
My eyes land on the cast iron pan hanging by the camp stove.
It’s within reach. I grab it before I can think better of it.
The weight of it is unfamiliar in my trembling hands as I lift it carefully.
I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. Never wanted to hurt anyone.
My parents raised me to turn the other cheek, to forgive, to show mercy.
I can’t this time. There’s too much at risk.
I can’t marry him. Can’t become a Bishop. Can’t let him drag me to my father tomorrow and force this lie onto everyone I love. I refuse to spend the rest of my life as the captive wife of a killer, pretending to love the man who destroyed everything.
I have to try. To do something. Even if it’s hopeless. Even if he catches me. Even if I die trying. I’ll run. I’ll get my father, and Allie, and we can all disappear together. Maybe go back to Seattle where the Bishops can’t reach us. Even if they do, at least I made a choice.
Calder turns around, the cup in hand. His blue eyes widen with shock when he sees me standing there, the pan raised in the air.
“Saint, don’t—”
I swing with everything I have.
The pan connects with the side of his head, and a sickening thunk reverberates up my arms. Calder staggers backward, the cup falling from his hand, making water splash across the floor in an arc.
He presses a hand to the side of his head, and I catch sight of the bright red blood seeping between his fingers. Oh God. I did that. I hurt him.
I drop the pan on the floor, and it lands with a loud clatter.
“Jesus Christ,” he growls.
I don’t think about what I’ve done. I just move. I dig into his pockets to snag his truck keys, then stab my feet into a spare pair of boots by the door, hugging the blanket tighter around my frame.
No chain to stop me this time. Nothing but open space between me and freedom.
My hands fumble with the latch, precious seconds ticking away, and then—
The door flies open, and I rush into the night. Snow hits me immediately, stinging my face like a thousand tiny needles, the cold so intense it steals my breath. I’m wearing only sweatpants and a flannel shirt, no coat, and too big boots. Nothing to protect me from a blizzard like this.
That doesn’t matter.
I run toward the truck, but it’s covered in snow, and I don’t have time to clear it off. Shit. Only one choice now.
“Saint!” Calder roars, the sound a mixture of fury and panic that promises pain if he catches me.
I don’t look back, and I don’t slow down. I just push forward into the blizzard, into the darkness, into whatever fate awaits me. The snow is already deep, making every step a struggle.
My feet are already numb as I trudge forward. Forget the cold, forget the pain. It’s only temporary. Think of your future. Think of your father and Allie. I pick a direction and hope it leads somewhere, anywhere, that’s away from him.
The trees loom around me, dark shapes in the white storm. I don’t know where I’m going. No idea if I’m heading toward town or deeper into the wilderness.
All I know is, I have to get away.
Because even dying in the snow is better than becoming his.
Even death is a choice I can make for myself.
With every step I take, the trees swallow a little more of me, and the cabin disappears from view, hidden behind a curtain of white.