Chapter 22
22
M oonlight streams faintly through my bedroom window, providing just enough light to see. My heart pounds as I clutch the thick envelope my mother just shoved into my clammy hands. It feels lighter than something this significant should—the weight of a life I’ve never lived—a new name, a new identity. All of the details that make a person—stuffed into a single envelope, giving me a chance at freedom.
“You don’t have much time,” she whispers urgently. I watch as she rushes around my bed, arranging the bedclothes with trembling fingers, making it look as though I’d been dragged from it against my will. “They’ll be here early in the morning to prepare you. You have to go now.”
She pulls back, her face pale but her eyes determined, holding out her hand. “Give me your locket.”
My chest tightens. “But—” I’ve never taken it off since she gave it to me, all those years ago.
“Celestina,” she stops me, her voice firm despite the tears pooling in her eyes. “I need it. I’ll plant it somewhere they’ll find it. I want to make them think they’re searching for your body. It might distract them long enough for you to slip beyond their reach. Please.”
My hands shake as I unclasp the chain, fingers brushing over the smooth silver surface one last time before I place it in her palm. She closes her hand around it, her expression faltering for a moment before she pulls out a small knife.
“Give me your hand,” she demands, resolute. I place my hand in hers without question. She makes a small cut and smears my blood across the locket before dropping it into a small plastic bag. She steps back and nods. “Go. The car is hidden in the brush behind the welcome sign. Once you get past the general store, keep to the edge of the woods until you get outside the town limits. Stay off the roads and out of sight. Everything you’ll need is packed and the keys are in the cup holder.”
“Come with me,” I plead. Mother looks at me with pain-filled eyes and shakes her head.
“No, my sweet girl, I will stay here and do everything I can to make sure they don’t find you.”
“But we can?—”
“There’s no time for this, Celestina. I promised when you were born I would find a way to get you out. I’m only sorry it’s taken this long.”
“I don’t want to be alone,” I say softly.
“You won’t be alone forever, and remember the mirror. They can’t take everything from you, and you will not break.” She gives me a tight hug that ends far too quickly before shoving me toward the door. Just as I’m about to step into the hall, she whispers her last words to me: “Live a happy life, my love. Don’t settle for less.”
I nod, looking back at her once more, before making my way down the stairs—skipping the one that creaks. I almost slip on my shoes by the door, but then stop and think. I wouldn’t have time to put shoes on if I were being dragged from the house.
The moisture-thick air suffocates me the moment I slip out the back door, wearing only my sleep shorts and an oversized t- shirt. Sticking to the shadows, I cut through multiple neighbors’ backyards, careful not to trigger any of the floodlights. My pulse thrums in my ears, every sound in the still night makes me feel certain I’ve been caught. Once I reach the end of my row, I duck behind a line of hedges, peering out to make sure the street is clear before darting across the open space.
My feet ache, but I don’t stop, and I don’t let the pain cloud my mind. I have to stay alert. The night watch is always patrolling, and the moment I’m spotted, it will be over. All my mother’s planning would be wasted in the blink of an eye.
I crouch behind a parked car as footsteps echo down the street. My breath catches, and I press myself against the metal—hoping there’s no alarm. Thankfully, there isn’t. The footsteps grow louder, then pass, fading into the distance. I exhale shakily and move again, darting from one shadow to the next until I cut into the woods behind the general store.
By the time I reach the car, my legs tremble, my feet throb, and my lungs burn. The vehicle sits exactly where my mother said it would, tucked behind a cluster of trees just beyond the town welcome sign. I fling the door open and collapse into the driver’s seat, grabbing a bottle of water from the passenger side and chugging it down in desperate gulps.
The interior smells faintly of leather and my mother’s perfume, while the backseat is crammed with clothing, supplies, and more water bottles. She thought of everything.
I grip the steering wheel tightly and fight the urge to turn around and drag her with me. She deserves a happy life too. She shouldn’t have to stay behind and face whatever wrath Josiah and my father will unleash.
It’s not fair, and I’m equal parts grateful and angry at her. We could’ve at least tried to get out together. I promise myself that once I’m settled into my new life, I’ll come back for her.
The road stretches out before me, dark and empty. I start the car, the low rumble of the engine breaking the silence. My hands shake as I shift into drive, terrified of the unknown. Beneath the fear, though, a thrill of adventure crackles within me.
I look down at the dash as I pull onto the narrow road, a note in my mother’s handwriting catching my eye: Don’t look back.
I don’t.
With tears blurring my vision, I press the gas and drive into the night, toward my new life, leaving everything I’ve ever known behind.
There’s a strange energy tonight, though I can’t tell if it’s the aftermath of the mission or the weight of what I need to tell them. They’re back, safe and unharmed, and I’ve waited long enough.
I’ll tell them after dinner.
The words stick in my throat as I watch them settle in. Whit’s already in the kitchen, cooking something that smells delicious but does nothing to spark my appetite. Beckett sits at the table, typing a debrief on his laptop, while Quinn lounges on the couch, flipping through channels on the massive TV. I know they can tell something’s on my mind, but none of them push.
I push the food around my plate, nerves making it impossible to eat. What if they think my past is too much to deal with and send me away? It’s strange that this is my concern, considering I spent the first few days here trying to escape. Throughout dinner, they’ve exchanged worried glances. They know something’s on my mind, but they respect my request not to push.
“Guys,” I say softly once most of their dinners are finished. Three pairs of eyes snap to me, reserved yet curious. I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet Beckett’s piercing gaze. “I need to talk to you.”
They set their forks down, the rest of their food forgotten, and turn their full attention to me. The comfort of their presence—the patience in the way they wait without rushing—gives me the courage to start.
“I haven’t really told you anything about my past,” I begin, my voice trembling slightly. “A past I was running from when my car broke down and I ended up here. There are… things I couldn’t bear to talk about, but feel as though I need to tell you now.”
Whit leans forward, placing his hand on mine—ending the massacre of the paper napkin I’ve shredded without thought—his expression soft yet serious. “Take your time,” he says gently giving my hand a little squeeze.
Quinn tilts his head, his usual grin replaced by something more solemn. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
Beckett doesn’t have to say a word. His stare strips me bare, sees too much, offers no escape. But there’s something safe in that too—like stepping too close to the fire and finding warmth instead of ruin. So I keep talking, grounded by the heat.
The moment I speak, everything spills out.
I tell them about the Covenant of Divine Light—the cult I grew up in. About my father, Charles Abernathy, and his obsession with control and unattainable standards of perfection. I tell them about the ceremonies and punishments. How my life was dictated by their warped beliefs, and finally, I tell them about Josiah Wainwright. My voice shakes when I talk about the engagement Josiah announced when I was just fourteen, and how his possessiveness grew darker with every passing year.
I drop my gaze to the table, unwilling to see the disgust in their eyes. Instead, I speak—of the liberties he took once I was promised to him, how he wielded our engagement like a leash, yanking me closer every time I tried to pull away. How he whispered that my resistance only made it more exciting, that fear would make me a better wife, that love was obedience and pain was proof of devotion. And no matter how much I cried, begged, or bled, he only smiled, pressing his lips to my ear and promising I’d learn to thank him for it.
I don’t stop. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Not until I tell them about the night before the wedding—how my mother gave me the keys to freedom, sacrificing everything to get me out. I tell them about my barefoot escape and how I never looked back.
By the time I finish, the room is silent, hot tears staining my cheeks. I feel raw and exposed, my hands trembling as I twist them in my lap. I can’t bear to look at them, too afraid of what I might see in their eyes.
It’s Whit who moves first. He gets up, walks over to my chair, pulls me out of it, and wraps his arms around me, warm and safe.
“Celest,” he says softly. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here with us. You’re safe.”
Quinn comes to stand beside us, his hand lightly brushing the tears from my cheek. “Safe, and not going anywhere. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you’re stuck with us. Got it?” I choke out a surprised laugh and nod.
Beckett’s voice cuts through, rough and seething with barely contained rage. There’s a finality in his tone that feels like a promise. “No more running, Celest. Not anymore. Not from anyone. And definitely not from him.”
I look up to see him leaning against the table right next to me, my chest tight with emotion while my body feels wrung out. “You don’t understand. Josiah… he’s not like other people, and you shouldn’t underestimate him. He’ll keep searching and won’t stop until he finds me.”
“Let him try,” Beckett says, his tone laced with malice. “We’ll be ready.”
Whit leads me to sit on the couch, gaze soft as he adds, “But we’re not just going to protect you, Celest. We’re going to make sure you can protect yourself. Whatever it takes.”
Quinn drops into the seat next to me, tossing his arms across the back. “What made you finally tell us? Not that I’m complaining, but I can’t believe you’d just randomly decide to spill everything if something hadn’t happened.”
I hesitate, my fingers picking at the edge of my sleeve. “There was a press release,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I Googled myself once your flight was on its way back, curious to see what happened after I left. Josiah… he lied, twisted everything to make himself look like the victim. But when he looked into the camera and said, ‘I will find you,’ I realized… y’all deserve to know what you’re getting into. I… I understand if it’s too much—if I’m too much.”
They exchange looks, something unspoken passing between them. Beckett nods, his gaze locking onto mine. “Then we’ll make sure you’re ready. Whatever comes, we’ll face it—together.”
Whit squeezes my hand with a gentle smile. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Quinn’s grin returns, though it’s wolfish this time. “Sweetheart, if I’m not too much, then you clearly aren’t. Besides, if Josiah does show up, he’s going to regret it. I’d love five minutes in a room alone with him.”
“Quinn, shut up,” Beckett sighs. “Five minutes wouldn’t come close to long enough.” There’s a pause before we all laugh in disbelief.
“Did you just… Beckett Harlow, did you just make a joke?” Quinn asks with a fake gasp, breaking the tension.
The knot in my chest loosens as I listen to them fake-argue over who gets first dibs on Josiah. I feel foolish now for not telling them sooner. My mother wanted me to live a happy life, and I wish I could tell her that I’ve found it.
For a moment, after watching the press release, I considered leaving a note and running away to continue the life she envisioned for me. But in the end, I chose to be brave and stay. I knew it was the right choice—and I wasn’t wrong.
I’m done running.