Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ariana
Waking came in fragments, different smells greeting me first. Fresh linen. Roses. Honeysuckle. And something else. Something expensive I couldn’t quite place.
For several seconds, I floated somewhere between dreaming and waking, unable to separate one from the other. My body felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish, as though I were swimming upward through deep water, desperately kicking for the surface.
Finally, I managed to blink my eyes open, momentarily disoriented as I tried to figure out where I was.
The last thing I remembered was applying mud to my face and arms.
Henry kissing me.
His reassuring words that he’d come for me.
But I was awake.
So where was Henry?
More importantly, where was I?
I blinked, an ornate ceiling painted cream and gold coming into focus. Heavy drapes framed the windows lining the wall. There was even a fireplace tucked in the corner with a cozy little reading nook beside it.
Nothing about this made sense.
This wasn’t an abandoned warehouse.
It wasn’t a dingy basement.
It wasn’t some filthy holding cell hidden deep in the Florida swamps.
Instead, it looked more like a cozy bed-and-breakfast.
Which somehow made it worse.
This room wasn’t designed to restrain someone. It was designed to make them comfortable. Give them a false sense of security. Of independence. Of autonomy.
Only to have all those things taken away.
I threw back the covers and slid off the mattress.
Immediately, something tugged at my leg, the sound of metal scraping across wood filling the quiet room.
I snapped my eyes toward my foot, and my pulse quickened when I saw a steel cuff circling my ankle.
A chain stretched from it to a metal ring bolted to the wall.
That wasn’t the only new accessory, either. My clothes were gone, replaced by a plain white nightgown.
“If you behave, I’ll remove it.”
The voice drifted from somewhere behind me, and I spun around, the chain rattling against the floor.
A man stepped from the shadows near the fireplace.
Since I’d offered to use myself as bait, I’d considered who might be behind all of this. Imagined what he might look like. In my head, he was as ugly on the outside as he was on the inside. A monster who wore his evil openly.
But the man standing mere feet in front of me was nothing like that. He looked…ordinary.
Average height.
Average build.
Dark hair peppered with gray.
Black button-down shirt.
Black pants.
The sort of man I could have passed on the street and not given a second glance.
“Who are you?” I hissed out. “Why am I here?”
He tilted his head, studying me as if I were a new creature. “Did your husband not tell you? You were chosen.”
His eyes lit up with excitement as he said it, and a shiver trickled down my spine. There was definitely something off about him. Something dangerous and sinister.
“Chosen? For what?”
His lips curved in the corners as he moved toward me. I instinctively backed up, the chain clanging with every step against the hardwood floor. But there was only so far I could go before my back hit the wall.
The room that had seemed so large moments ago suddenly became a cage.
“For redemption, of course.” He lifted his hand toward me. I tried to avoid his touch, but I couldn’t, his fingers trailing a line down the curve of my face, making bile rise in my throat. “You’ve been blessed.”
“I’m chained to the goddamn wall. I wouldn’t call that blessed.”
Before I could brace myself, he landed a harsh blow against my cheek, the force of it knocking me to the floor. Pain seared through me, vibrating outward from my jaw as I struggled to catch my breath. A hand wrapped around my hair and I was yanked back to my feet.
“You will not speak His name with filth in your mouth.”
Gone was the gentle tone and kind smile. His face twisted with righteous fury, his transformation so fast it caught me off balance.
“That sort of language is what damned women use. Or am I wrong about you? Are you already past redemption?”
I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes, unsure how to respond.
All I could do was trust my gut and hope for the best. Thankfully, I had ten years of being married to a sociopath to prepare for this.
If there was one thing Victor taught me it was how to read people to give them what they wanted.
If this guy wanted me to be a woman worthy of redemption, that was what I’d give him.
“I’m not,” I replied. “I am worthy.”
He stared at me for several long moments. Much like Victor did.
“Prove it.”
“How?”
He released his hold on me and stepped back. “You must repent and pray the Lord shows you mercy.”
“Repent?” I asked nervously.
I didn’t exactly have much experience when it came to religion or God.
While Victor would drag me to services on occasion, our attendance was performative at best. Something he did to make people think he was an upstanding, righteous man when he was anything but.
“Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “On your knees.”
“Right. Of course.”
I carefully lowered myself to my knees, the chain clanging as I did. I folded my hands together and closed my eyes, searching my brain for what to say. I was so out of my element, it was laughable, but I needed to try. Needed to survive just a little longer until Henry found me.
“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Ask for forgiveness.”
Every muscle in my body trembled as I tried to recall all the times I attended church with Victor.
Tried to remember what the pastor would say.
How he would speak. But I typically zoned out whenever we were there.
Instead, I spent the time praying to God for a way out of my marriage.
For someone to realize the truth and help me.
“Do you not know how?”
I carefully lifted my eyes. “I don’t.”
His jaw briefly tensed, but he schooled his anger, something akin to compassion crossing his expression.
It unbalanced me. I’d had a glimpse of what he was capable of. But when he looked at me this way, a part of me would do anything to keep this side of him. To not disappoint him.
Which was exactly what he wanted.
“I will guide you,” he said gently, cupping my cheek so softly. “Jesus was a teacher. I will teach you.”
“Thank you.”
“Father.”
I bowed my head, linking my hands together and waiting for him to continue. Then he gripped my jaw, forcing my eyes back to his, the kindhearted man he was seconds ago gone once more.
“Wha—”
“Thank you, Father,” he hissed. “That is how you will refer to me.”
“Th-thank you, Father.”
I swallowed hard, the emotional whiplash almost more than I could handle.
But Victor did the same to me. I survived ten years married to him.
I could survive a few more hours of this.
At least I hoped I could.