Chapter 54
Chapter
Fifty-Four
Austin watched the vehicle’s last taillight disappear into the fog.
Cross watched it too.
For the first time since Austin entered the clearing, the man’s confidence faltered. Whoever waited across the creek had abandoned him—and Cross knew it.
Prine must have seen the opening too.
“Look at that road, Zander. They left you.”
Cross’s mouth tightened.
“The people who took you when you were seventeen gave you another name and trained you to do their work,” Prine continued. “Whatever they did to you, it wasn’t your choice.”
“They opened my eyes.”
“They held you captive. They conditioned you.”
“You don’t know anything about them.” Cross tightened his arm around Preston. “My family never understood what I could become. The others did.”
“The others used you, Zander,” Prine said.
“No.” Conviction hardened his expression, but something raw flickered beneath it. “They chose me.”
The words settled over the clearing.
The boy they’d been calling Christian lifted his head.
Cross looked at him, and something about his manner changed. His voice lost its edge, becoming quiet and measured.
Familiar.
“You understand, don’t you?” Cross asked. “They chose you too.”
Christian swallowed but didn’t answer.
“No,” Nora said from behind Harris. “They took him too.”
Cross’s attention snapped toward her.
“Nora, stay behind Harris.” Austin kept his tone steady, though every instinct urged him to get her farther from the bridge.
She remained where she was, but she leaned far enough forward to keep Christian in view. “You left those drawings because you wanted us to find you—and Preston.”
Cross tightened his hold on the boy. “Stop talking.”
Nora ignored him.
“Look at me,” she told Christian.
His gaze shifted to hers.
“I know you lied to us. You let us believe you were my brother, and that hurt.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away. “But I saw how frightened those hymnal pages made you. I don’t believe you came to hurt us. I think you were trying to get away.”
Christian’s face tightened as though her words stung.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Nora continued. “Whatever your real name is, you were a victim too. Help Preston come home. You can go home too.”
For a moment, the emptiness left Christian’s expression. Something frightened and hopeful surfaced beneath it.
Cross saw the change.
Uncertainty flickered across his face before he shifted Preston toward Christian and gestured at the footbridge with his gun.
“Take him across.”
Christian didn’t move.
Cross’s voice sharpened. “You know what you’re supposed to do.”
Preston stiffened. Instead of crying, he fixed his gaze on Nora and planted his feet in the mud.
Austin studied Christian. The teenager stood close enough to reach Preston. If he turned against Cross, he might be their best chance to get the child clear without anyone firing a shot.
“Christian,” Austin said, “look at Nora. You don’t have to obey Cross.”
Cross’s eyes flashed. “That isn’t his name.”
“Then let him tell us what it is,” Austin said. “You don’t get to take that from him too.”
For the first time, Christian looked directly at Austin.
Fear filled his eyes, but something else lived beneath it. Resistance, perhaps. Or the last pieces of a plan he hadn’t shared with anyone.
Cross pushed Preston toward him. “Take the boy.”
Christian’s hands curled into fists.
“Zander,” Prine said, “this ends one way. Put down the gun.”
Cross ignored her. His attention remained fixed on Christian. “What is rebellion?”
Christian went still. His lips moved before any sound emerged. “It’s the sin of witchcraft.”
The answer was flat and automatic.
Austin’s stomach dropped.
Cross pushed Preston toward him. “Then obey.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Nora pleaded.
For several seconds, Christian seemed caught between them.
Then his shoulders lowered.
His expression emptied.
He reached for Preston’s wrist.
“No.” Nora started forward, but Harris caught her arm and kept her behind him.
Christian pulled the younger boy toward the footbridge. Preston resisted, his shoes sliding through the mud, but Christian didn’t release him.
Cross stepped aside and trained the gun on both of them.
Christian placed one foot on the first wet plank, then looked back at Nora.
Something passed between them—something Austin couldn’t interpret from where he stood.
Something about his look made Nora stop fighting Harris.
Austin couldn’t tell whether Christian had surrendered to Cross’s command—or had finally decided what he intended to do.
From behind Harris, Nora watched Christian lead Preston onto the footbridge.
The younger boy fought him with every step, his shoes slipping on the rain-slick planks. Christian kept hold of his wrist and pulled him forward while Cross followed with the gun trained on them.
“Christian, please.” Nora’s voice broke. “Don’t do this.”
He turned away from her, not looking back.
The bridge swayed beneath their weight. It had been old when Nora’s family stayed here, and years of neglect had left several planks warped or missing. The creek surged beneath them, swollen by the rain and carrying branches and debris downstream.
Preston stumbled at one of the gaps.
Christian caught him before he fell.
His arm went around the boy’s waist, holding him upright. For a moment, the two remained there, Preston clinging to him while Christian stared at the water.
“Keep moving,” Cross ordered.
Christian leaned close to Preston and said something Nora couldn’t hear.
Preston stopped struggling.
Cross took another step onto the bridge. “I said move.”
Christian slowly straightened.
Then he turned.
He swung Preston around and shoved him toward Nora. “Run!”
Preston raced across the planks. Cross lunged for him, but Christian stepped into his path and drove both hands into Cross’s chest.
The gun fired.
The bullet struck the wooden railing, sending splinters through the air. Harris pulled Nora farther behind him. But he released her the instant Preston cleared Cross and reached the end of the bridge.
Nora dropped to her knees and caught him.
His momentum nearly knocked her backward. She wrapped both arms around him and dragged him farther away as another shot tore into the trees.
On the bridge, Christian grappled with Cross for the gun.
“You disobeyed me.” Rage twisted Cross’s face as he slammed Christian into the railing. “After everything we did for you.”
Christian caught Cross’s wrist before he could bring the gun around again. “You took everything from me.”
“You were nothing when we found you.”
Cross drove an elbow into his ribs. Christian doubled over, but he didn’t release Cross’s arm.
Nora pulled Preston against her and covered his eyes. “Christian, get off the bridge!”
He looked at her.
For the first time since Cross had appeared from the woods, Christian’s expression was completely clear. No distance. No emptiness. No trace of the conditioning that had silenced him moments earlier.
Only fear—and determination.
“Keep him safe!” Christian yelled.
Cross struck him again. Christian staggered, and one foot broke through a rotted plank. He caught the railing before he could fall, but the sudden movement pitched the bridge sideways.
Wood cracked beneath them.
Cross lunged for the far bank. Before he reached it, Christian caught the back of his jacket.
The support cable gave way with a metallic snap.
The bridge twisted beneath them. Several planks tore loose, disappearing into the churning water as Christian and Cross crashed against the remaining railing.
Nora tightened her hold on Preston.
She had asked Christian to bring the boy home, and he had.
Now she might watch him die for it.
The center of the bridge folded toward the creek.
Cross lost his footing and grabbed the broken cable. Christian clung to what remained of the railing with one hand.
Then Cross’s grip began to slip.
Christian could have held on and let him fall.
Instead, he released the railing and caught Cross by the wrist.
For one stunned heartbeat, Nora realized he was trying to save the man who’d helped destroy his life.
Then the railing broke.
Both of them plunged into the water.