Chapter 8
Cain
I swear I turn my head for one second and Ophelia is already gone.
“Ophelia, wait!”
I chase her out the door, and there’s only one thought on my mind. All hesitation is now gone. I’m going to find that piece of shit Prophet, and he’s going to die. He can’t be allowed to torment her any longer.
Any worries I had about us going back there, or even it being a trap, which I know the other two Preachers also share, are gone because we have to end that fucker. It’s the only way to set Ophelia free from his grasp.
I hurry out of the water tower, but Ophelia isn’t here.
One of the armed guards steps in. “Is everything okay, sir?”
“Which way did the girls go?”
“East,” he says. “Do you want us to follow?”
“Stay behind me,” I tell him. “Only step in if necessary.”
I don’t think it will be necessary, but who the hell knows in our crazy world.
I picture this being some kind of trap for Ophelia—that Daisy has just been acting like a prude in order for this moment to happen—and now she’s run away because she wants Ophelia to chase her straight into the Prophet’s arms.
“Cain?”
I turn at the sound of my name to find Camile bursting through the trees. What the hell had Camile been doing to let Daisy out of her sight? I thought she’d understood that we’d needed some private time with Ophelia.
“Is Daisy here?” she asks.
“Yeah, she kind of saw some stuff she shouldn’t and took off. Ophelia’s gone after her.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Camile’s dark eyes glisten with tears.
“The dean asked to speak to me, and there were some guys being rowdy farther down the hall, so the dean shouted at them. Anyway, the next thing I knew, Daisy had slipped away, and when I got outside, she had run off. I think maybe the guys, or the dean, scared her.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m more worried about Ophelia than Daisy.”
“Go,” she says. “Don’t let me stop you. Get them both.”
I take off in their direction. I’m wearing only my running shorts and sneakers, and, despite my recent glut of exercise, I’m still fast. Far faster than either Daisy or Ophelia, especially when neither of them is dressed for a run through the woods.
My feet crunch on fallen leaves and small twigs, but I’m not trying to be quiet.
I hear them before I see them.
“Daisy, please wait.” It’s Ophelia’s voice, begging through the trees.
Daisy can’t keep running forever. She’ll tire out at some point, and unless she trains a lot, which I doubt, that point will be sooner than later.
I catch sight of them soon enough. Daisy is still running through the woods, Ophelia hot on her tail. With both girls in long skirts, hiked up a little to allow them to run, their long hair spilling down their backs, they remind me of something out of an old novel.
I speed past Ophelia, then overtake Daisy and draw to halt, blocking her way. She lets out a little scream.
“Stop, Daisy. Where the hell do you think you’re running to?”
“Away,” she gasps, flinging out an arm.
Ophelia is bent in half, her hands on her thighs, catching her breath.
“Away where? You came to us for help, remember? You don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I came here before I understood what was going on between the four of you,” Daisy says. “I’ve been led into a house of sin. I can’t be here. What I saw was … it was an abomination.”
I grind my teeth. “There’s no such thing as sin. It’s a lie your Prophet made up to control you.”
“You’re the one lying,” she throws back.
“Think about it, Daisy,” Ophelia says, a pleading note to her tone.
“Why is it okay for the Prophet and some of the other men to have multiple wives, but not for a woman to do the same and take multiple men? It’s because the men want to have multiple women, and they don’t want the women to think they’re entitled to the same. ”
“They’re fucking hypocrites,” I mutter.
Daisy shakes her head, but she doesn’t respond. Her gaze darts between me and Ophelia.
The trouble is that as much as Daisy has been the one who came to us for help, we’re the ones who need her. Without her, we’re not going to find the Prophet, and I don’t think we can ever move on unless we take that son of a bitch down.
I let out a sigh. “We love her, Daisy. All three of us do. And yes, we have sex together, and I’m sorry you had to see that.
It was never our intention. We genuinely believed you’d been occupied far away from the water tower.
But that doesn’t mean what we were doing was wrong.
Sex is beautiful and natural, and it helps to bond us and show what we mean to each. ”
“But it’s a sin. It’s fornication. You’ll go to hell.”
I throw up both hands. “You know what, Daisy? It’s not my job to convince you that what you’ve been taught is wrong.
You came to us, not the other way around.
You’ve come into our home. You’re the one asking for our help.
I’m not asking you to love our relationship or even accept it.
What I’m asking is that if you choose to come into our home, and seek shelter under our roof, and accept our help, then you need to stop fucking judging us, and stop judging Ophelia, too. ”
Ophelia is in tears, and I hate Daisy for that.
But is my anger directed at the wrong person?
I was the one who put Ophelia in that position.
My desperate need for her, fuck the consequences.
Maybe I’d even subconsciously wanted Daisy to see us so we could shock the ridiculous crap that she’s been fed her entire life out of her system.
I should have taken Ophelia up to the bedroom, or even simply locked the goddamned front door, but I didn’t.
“Please,” Ophelia says, “will you come back with us to the water tower? We need to figure out how we’re going to save your family. That is so much more important than how you feel about our relationship.”
Daisy’s body language relaxes a fraction. Maybe it is a good thing that we’ve gotten everything out in the open. It’ll mean we don’t have to keep tiptoeing around her. I’ve got no idea how long she’s going to be in our lives. I guess it’ll depend on what we find once we get to the commune.
Not that I would want her staying with us long term. Hell no. It just wouldn’t work. But she might be here for a few more weeks, and trying to hide what we all mean to one another for that long would be impossible.
My phone buzzes, and I slip my cell from the pocket of my shorts.
Fuck. It’s my dad.