Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ariana
The instant Josiah ripped the hood off the figure, it felt like all the air had been forced out of my lungs, my knees weak, bile rising in my throat.
Because the man bound and gagged, forced to kneel on the altar that seemed more like a place for torture and sacrifice, was Henry.
My Henry.
Bruised.
Bloody.
Barely conscious.
But alive.
He lifted his head, and even in a room full of people, his eyes found mine.
I forced every muscle in my body to remain still. Forced myself not to run toward him. Not to break down and sob. Not to give Josiah the satisfaction of seeing how much power he held over me.
But Henry knew me well. So he gave me as encouraging of a look as possible before breaking his gaze from mine, his attention shifting farther down the line of women.
Toward Sarah.
The instant he noticed her, he exhaled a small breath, partly out of relief. Partly out of fear.
“Shall we begin?” Josiah’s voice cut through, and I lifted my eyes as he moved toward a table at the front of the altar.
When I saw three revolvers resting on top, my stomach churned.
Josiah picked one up, the black metal gleaming under the light.
“This table holds three guns just like this one,” he explained calmly. “But only one of them contains a single bullet. The rest of the chambers are empty.”
Nausea rolled through me, and I fought to remain upright. It was already difficult, considering I hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. But standing here and listening to Josiah speak, knowing what he was about to say was nearly impossible.
“Each of you will choose one of these guns,” he continued. “Then you will stand before this sinner and pull the trigger. If God wishes to spare him, the chambers will remain empty. And if not…” A slow smile crept onto his lips. “Well, that means God has decided.”
His words settled like a boulder in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“Abigail,” he said in a bright voice, looking toward the woman who’d been at his side earlier. “You may go first.”
“Thank you, Father.” She rushed toward the table and excitedly selected a gun.
When she turned toward Henry, it took everything in me not to tackle her to the ground.
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
There were twelve women, plus Josiah. Some of them looked as horrified as I felt, so they hadn’t been completely brainwashed yet.
Even so, the odds weren’t exactly in my favor.
I lifted my gaze toward Henry, but he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was staring at Abigail without fear.
Without apology.
Without remorse.
She lifted the revolver with both hands, every second seeming to last an eternity as I waited to see what the outcome would be.
“Predator,” she spat out.
Then she pulled the trigger.
Click.
My knees buckled with relief, but it was short-lived because Josiah was already calling for the next woman.
Again, she lifted her chosen revolver and pulled the trigger.
Another click.
One by one, Josiah called each woman forward.
And with each empty chamber, my nerves were stretched tighter and tighter until I was convinced they might snap.
Some women trembled while holding the gun, against this but too scared to voice their objections.
Others smiled with glee.
One spat into Henry’s face before pulling the trigger.
One kicked him in the groin.
Insults flew from their mouths with terrifying conviction.
And through it all, Henry refused to show a single ounce of fear.
“Your turn, Seraphine,” Josiah announced after Tabitha had gone. As expected, she was excited for the chance, then disappointed when she wasn’t the one to kill him.
The chapel suddenly felt unbearably hot. Candle smoke thickened the air. Sweat slid down my spine.
I could feel every pair of eyes following me as I struggled to put one foot in front of the other.
Especially Josiah’s.
I timidly moved toward the table, passing Sarah on my way. As I did, I briefly met her gaze, fear and terror swirling in her green depths. I tried to give her a reassuring look but probably failed miserably.
When I approached the table, all I could do was stare at the revolvers, too frozen in fear to move, my breaths becoming rapid and uneven.
“Choose, Seraphine.”
Panic clawed through me as my eyes swept over the three guns, at a complete loss as to which one to pick.
I should have paid attention. Should have tracked which gun each woman selected. But I’d been too focused on Henry. On the horrifying possibility that, any moment, one of those chambers would fire and I’d watch as he drew his last breath.
Now I had no idea which gun held the best odds.
“Seraphine,” Josiah warned, his tone hardening. “Choose or I’ll choose for you, and I guarantee you won’t like the outcome.”
I reached for one with trembling fingers, lifting it from the table.
The metal felt heavy.
Cold.
Ominous.
Tears blurred my vision as I raised the gun toward Henry, the chapel fading around me until there was only Henry staring back with the same tenderness he’d always bestowed on me.
Even now.
Even knowing I might kill him.
“Do it!” someone shouted from behind me.
“Deliver judgment!” another yelled.
“You heard them, Seraphine,” Josiah encouraged. “Deliver judgment, or I’ll do it for you.”
I shifted my gaze toward him as a conniving smile tugged at his lips. Like he already knew what was about to happen and couldn’t wait.
A chill swept through me as I rested my finger on the trigger, my heart racing in my chest.
Henry gave me a small nod, as if resigned to his fate.
But I wasn’t.
At the very last second, I swung the revolver toward Josiah and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Silence detonated through the chapel, everything still for one stunned heartbeat.
Then a chorus of shouts erupted from the women as Josiah rushed toward me, seizing me violently before I could react, wrenching my arms behind me so hard I couldn’t help but cry out, the gun clattering to the floor.
All the while, Henry looked on with terror in his eyes, fighting against the restraints on his wrists and ankles.
“You see?” Josiah called to the women, breathing heavily. “You see how quickly corruption spreads? With one look, this man has been able to poison your sister, Seraphine. That’s the danger you all have to be mindful of. The danger I’m trying so hard to protect you from.”
Several women closed their eyes, mouthing words of thanks as they folded their hands in front of their bodies.
Josiah dragged me up the altar and shoved me onto my knees beside Henry, pain exploding through me.
“This woman attempted to murder me,” Josiah announced.
Several of the women shouted for him to kill, stone, or punish me.
Josiah raised a hand, and they were immediately silenced.
“I admire your passion, my lambs. Truly. Your devotion to me is a gift I will never take for granted. But we must remember. Seraphine is still getting accustomed to our ways. She has spent so long being subjected to corruption and sin. She isn’t strong like you.
Not yet. But perhaps we can put it in the Lord’s hands. See if He still deems her worthy.”
My pulse sped up, my mind racing with possibilities about what he planned to do.
“After all,” he crooned, walking toward the revolver I’d dropped and picking it up. “Our Lord believes in justice.” He flipped open the chamber, revealing a single bullet. He spun the chamber around, the sound echoing in the chapel before snapping it shut again.
Then he turned toward me and aimed the gun at my head.
My entire body went cold.
Henry fought against his restraints, his voice muffled through his gag.
“An eye for an eye,” Josiah whispered as he moved his finger to the trigger.
But I didn’t look away.
If he was going to kill me, I wanted him to look me in the eye as he did it.
Several protracted moments passed as he applied pressure to the trigger.
Then a loud bang reverberated through the room.