Chapter Twelve
Grace
As we turn the corner, Prophet races out of the house, his eyes wild. “Nova! Inside. Now. Run!”
Abe tightens his hold on my elbow. “She ain’t runnin’ anywhere, son. Her knee gave out today. She’ll walk. Slowly.”
Prophet doesn’t listen. He never does. Grabbing my free arm, he tries to drag me back to the house like some disobedient child.
But his father stands tall, fury flickering in his eyes. “You brought me here to keep the flock healthy,” he says, his voice sharp enough to cut stone. “This is how I do it. Let. Go.”
Prophet’s face twists—rage collapsing into something I never expected to see. Fear.
A low hum rises on the wind, steady and mechanical. Wrong for this place. It’s oddly familiar, but it takes me several seconds to understand what I’m hearing.
Oh, my God.
Cars.
Two black SUVs crest the ridge and glide down the dirt road winding through the fields. They don’t belong here. Prophet would never allow all that sleek precision. His world is rusted-out pickups and boxy white vans.
My heart slams into my ribs.
Outsiders. They’ll see me. They’ll help me.
Prophet barks orders, shoving me toward the house, but I wrench my arm from his grasp. Pain tears through my knee. I ignore it and force myself to take another step. I’ve been trapped in his cage for too long. Hope is twenty feet away and I’ll crawl to it if I have to.
The SUVs brake hard, throwing up gravel.
The front passenger door flies open. A man in a crisp white shirt steps out.
The polished Ranger star on his chest glints in the pale afternoon light.
But it’s the oversized belt buckle—the gaudiest, most ridiculous belt buckle in the whole of Texas—that shocks me the most. I’ve seen it before.
Dozens of times. It was the punchline to so many of AJ’s jokes. But now, it shines like salvation.
“Marvin! It’s Grace. Grace Stone!” I race for him, falling into his arms when my knee gives out again. “Prophet kidnapped me—”
“Nova! Get back here right now!” Prophet shouts.
Marvin freezes. His grip clamps down, not to reassure, but to contain. I see it. The flash of shock, the slight tremor of fear. He wasn’t expecting me to be outside. In the open. Where I could be seen.
“Marvin, please! Help me!”
His hand slams over my mouth. “Shut it,” he hisses, his voice tight with fear. Rough fingers dig into my jaw as his eyes dart to the SUV.
The rear door opens. A man steps out with the kind of presence that warps the air itself. Crisp suit jacket, revolver at his hip, flanked by four men with AKs. Authority radiates from him like heat off asphalt.
His gaze slices from Prophet to Marvin, to me—pinned and trembling against the SUV. His lip curls in disdain. “The Ranger captain’s missing wife. Here. All this time?”
Marvin’s hand trembles where it grips my jaw. “Jefe, she’s no one. A woman Prophet took in. She answers to Nova now.”
This isn’t happening. He’s…he was…a friend.
I shake my head violently, trying to scream around his palm, but it comes out as nothing more than muffled sobs.
Jefe doesn’t spare me a single glance. His eyes stay locked on Marvin. “Do you take me for a fool? I remember her face on the news. Half the state was searching for this woman. And all the while, you knew she was here. You fed me lies while you played lapdog to this false prophet.”
Prophet steps forward, chin lifted. “She is Nova, chosen by the Glorious One. She was never Grace Stone. Her sacrifice—”
“Silence!” Jefe snaps. Prophet flinches.
Jefe turns back to Marvin. “Give me one reason I should not put a bullet in your skull right now.”
Marvin’s face goes pale. He lets me go, and I crumple to my knees in the mud, arms wrapped around myself as if that could somehow shield me.
“Because…she’s…she’s broken. She only answers to Nova now. The Rangers have no idea where she is. Let Prophet finish what he started, and in a month, the problem disappears forever.”
Jefe regards me with cold detachment. His hand rests on the grip of his revolver.
“The only problem,” he says softly, “is that Captain Stone still breathes. A man like that does not stop searching. Not until he finds his wife. Not until he buries every man who stood in his way.”
Hot tears tumble down my cheeks. Not from pain. From knowing AJ hasn’t given up on me. Of course, he hasn’t. He’s a hurricane in boots and a Stetson. Once he gets his teeth into something, he never gives up.
God, I’d give anything to see him again. To feel his arms around me. To tell him I love him. I can almost hear him calling my name.
Not Nova.
Grace.
“Kill her. But don’t get any blood on the cars,” Jefe says coldly.
Prophet lunges, dragging me upright. His voice sharpens with desperation.
“No! Let me perform the ceremony tonight. It is a full moon. The flock will accept it as my Doctrine. So will the Glorious One. You’ll see the truth with your own eyes, Jefe.
And afterward, you may dispose of her body as you wish. ”
One of Jefe’s men cocks his gun.
“Please,” I beg, my gaze level with Marvin’s ridiculous belt buckle.
Of all the things to see as I die, why does it have to be this?
I thought it would be the night sky. Something…
peaceful. Not a hunk of metal with a golden man, his cowboy hat held high in one hand, riding a bucking bull.
But it’s the diamonds spelling out “Fort Worth Rodeo” that make it so damn ugly.
“No!” Prophet shoves Marvin back and shields me with his body. I can’t see his face, but his entire presence shrinks as he turns to Jefe. “If you kill her now, you lose everything. The flock, the future. Nova guarantees our strength forever.”
Jefe snorts. “As long as the guns arrived, I let you have your delusions. But this? It is dangerous.” He gestures at the men behind him. “They will inspect your facilities until midnight. If you can complete your ceremony before then, fine. If not, she dies now.”
Brother Malone inches closer. “Prophet’s Doctrine requires a blue moon. That’s at month’s end.”
“What the fuck is a blue moon?” one of the enforcers behind Jefe asks.
“It’s the second full moon in a single month. Today is the first. There’s another on the thirtieth,” Prophet explains, the words spilling from his lips faster and faster. “Nova was supposed to be upstairs when you arrived. You were…early.”
Jefe answers with his fist. Blood spatters as Prophet hits the dirt next to me. “So you knew. And you hid her. Victor—end her. Now.”
“No!” Prophet scrambles up, his eyes wild. “I will perform the sacrifice tonight.”
Marvin leans in to whisper in Jefe’s ear. I can’t bring myself to move. Hours. I only have hours left to live. How could I have gone from such intense hope to…this…so quickly?
“You may have your ritual,” Jefe says. “But once she’s dead, Marvin will dispose of the body.
He can dump her over the border on the Sandoval Cartel’s land.
When her corpse is found—if it’s found—her husband will assume she was caught up in Sandoval’s flesh trade.
Marvin will help sell the story. Get one of his CIs to reach out with some damning information the Ranger chief can’t ignore.
Maybe it’ll even keep him off our backs for a few months. ”
The biting wind cools the tears as they hit my cheeks. AJ will believe him. Marvin is…a friend. Or at least we always thought he was.
“You won’t regret this. Once you see how the flock responds to her death, you’ll understand. You’ll…believe,” Prophet says.
His elation sickens me. I thought I was immune to it. To feeling anything at all after almost three years in this place. But one fleeting moment of hope was all it took.
Prophet snaps his fingers. “Brother Malone!”
“Yes, Prophet?” Brother Malone says, suddenly right behind me.
“Take her upstairs to prepare.”
Through deep, choking sobs, I look up at Marvin. “We’ve known you for years. AJ…he’s your friend. I thought you were a good man.”
He shrugs, shoves his .45 back in the holster, and adjusts his belt buckle like it’s tied directly to his dick. “You thought wrong.”
Brother Malone grabs a fistful of my hair. “Get up, Nova. Now.”
I don’t fight him. There’s no point. I just hope the end is quick.