Chapter 19
Linsey
My father brings me to the old Home Place.
I’d forgotten this place even existed. It’s in California and an hour and a half from Las Salinas.
I’ve never liked this old ruin of a homestead.
It’s one of several properties that have been in our family for generations.
It’s also old and run-down, with no amenities.
I dust off a chair and sit on it, dreading the moment I need to use the restroom because I’ll have to use the outhouse.
While I’m sitting there worrying myself sick, the door opens, and they shove Noah in the room with me. I fly out of my chair and meet him halfway. Relief floods my mind when I finally have him in my arms. But there’s also more worry. I’d hoped that Sabre would have been able to get to him first.
“Are you okay, bug? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
He whispers, “Mom, I’m fine. We need to stay together and stay tough.”
Shaking my head, I ask, “Say what now?”
“Pay attention. This is important. I sent Sabre everything before I got into the car. I forwarded the picture of you and the message they sent. Then I deleted the part showing that I forwarded it in case they checked my phone, but I don’t think they checked.”
His eyes glance nervously at the closed door, even though his voice is steady. “Sabre knows they took us. The club will find this place because Zen can find anything. Our mission is to stay brave until they get here.”
His faith in Sabre and the Legion both comforts and terrifies me. We need to be ready when they come for us.
I take his face between my hands. “Sending those messages was incredibly brave. I’m so proud of you.”
He swats my hands away, looking bashful. “I just did what Sabre taught me. I stayed calm, shared the intel, and came prepared.”
The last two words make me suspicious. Noah glances towards the door before sitting on the floor and pulling up one pants leg. He’s got three shiny new blue throwing knives that I’ve never seen before.
I quickly pull his pants leg down in case someone walks in unexpectedly. “Where did you get those?”
“I took them from the clubhouse after knife throwing practice. I wanted to show Braden.”
“Taking knives to school is dangerous,” I say. If we get out of this, I’m going to have to have a talk with him. I continue, “Throwing knives are for sport. If they find those on you, they’ll be really angry.”
“They only patted down my jacket.” His mouth twists into a half smile. “Amateurs.”
I take his hands. I force my voice to remain calm because this is important. “I need you to listen carefully. Those aren’t dull practice knives. They’re sharp enough to cut someone. There are six grown men here and at least one of them has a gun.”
“Sabre says the element of surprise matters.”
“It does, but you can only surprise them once. After that, they’ll take those knives away. They might also decide you’re dangerous enough that you need to be restrained or taught a lesson. I don’t want to scare you, but these men are dangerous. This isn’t a game.”
Noah’s expression becomes serious as he considers the situation. I can almost see his little hamster wheels turning.
“Our job isn’t to defeat these men. Our job is to try and stay alive until Sabre and the brothers reach us if we can’t escape.”
Noah listens in silence.
“Sabre also taught you to think before you throw and gather intel before making a move,” I add. “Promise me you won’t use one of those knives unless there is no other choice. And I decide when we reach that point because protecting you is my job.”
Noah remains silent for several seconds. He doesn’t want to surrender control because he’s scared. Finally, he nods. “I promise, Mom.”
I hear my father climbing the stairs. He has a very distinctive step that I easily recognize from hearing it growing up.
I pull Noah close, afraid of what my father might do if I disobey.
My father stands beside the door frame with a lantern in his hand.
My mother is beside him holding a tray of food.
Her eyes glance up to meet mine for a second before she looks away.
She quickly passes the tray to the young man guarding our room and goes back downstairs without saying a word.
She helped set me up to be abducted by lying to me.
I never realized she had such a talent for manipulation.
“You’re probably hoping someone will come and rescue you,” my father says as the young man places the tray on the dresser.
“I’ll spare you the endless waiting. Nobody knows this property exists.
Your outlaw friends are searching secondary roads while police search highways and bus stations.
By the time anyone thinks to look at old family land, we’ll be long gone. ”
“You don’t know what his club are like. They’ll come for me.”
“You need a good husband to take you in hand, Linny.”
“Dylan beat me,” I say. “He did it in a parking lot in front of half a dozen witnesses because he couldn’t control his own anger. Before that, he beat me in our kitchen for two years. That’s why I ran. Stop pretending like that didn’t happen.”
My father looks directly at me without a trace of discomfort. “The problem is, you don’t understand discipline. A man is entitled to discipline his wife.”
“Do you realize that he nearly killed me in that parking lot?”
“A husband overcorrecting is a fault. A wife running from her family is rebellion. They are not equal sins. You’d know that if you paid attention in Sunday school all those years ago.”
Noah speaks up, “Men aren’t supposed to hit women or kids,” he says clearly. “That’s not discipline. It’s just taking advantage of the fact that you’re bigger.”
My father looks at Noah with real interest for the first time. His expression warms, and that frightens me more than anger.
“There is my blood. It shows up when you talk,” he says softly. “Your mother might have taught you wrong, but the strength is still there. I’ll turn you into a God-fearing man.”
He crouches in front of Noah. “Outlaws and women have filled your head with nonsense. But you’ll soon learn that men have authority over women and children for a reason. It’s God’s will.”
“Sabre taught me that strong men protect women and children. That’s the whole point of being strong.” He holds his grandfather’s gaze before adding, “Sabre is more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
I move between them because I know what happens when someone humiliates him.
“He’s nine years old. If you need to beat someone, leave my son alone and hit me instead.”
Instead of taking me up on that offer, my father comes to his feet and smooths the front of his shirt. “The word you’re looking for is discipline, not beat. Supper is on the tray. Say grace before you eat.”
Three seconds later, he’s gone and the lock on the door snicks shut behind him.
I turn and take Noah by both shoulders. “Noah, I know you’re used to speaking your mind, but that’s going to get you hurt in this house. Let’s try to stay quiet and get through this, okay?”
Noah glances away and his expression shows a hint of anger, but he doesn’t fight me about this. “I understand.”
The guards work in pairs, and I quickly learn there are two types. The older man is lean and weathered. I can’t recall his name, but I vaguely remember his face from church when I was growing up.
The young man from the van is different. The older guard calls him Caleb. He brings our food, speaks in a soft voice and gives odd little smiles whenever he talks to me. The way he watches me makes it clear he considers any fear I might have an advantage because it makes me easier to control.
Later that night, I put Noah on the shabby cot in the corner of the room to rest. Caleb takes the opportunity to lean against the doorway and explain how my future is going to go.
“You don’t need to worry about Dylan. He never had a proper claim because you weren’t legally married. And he can’t seem to keep himself out of prison long enough to be a good husband and father. The elders have already ruled on it. You’ll return to the family clean.”
I just shake my head. It’s been so long that I can barely remember their convoluted reasoning for different things. “I don’t want to be here. Can’t you just let us go?”
“You’re confused right now.” His smile never reaches his eyes. “Your father plans to correct the mistake he made before. Several unmarried men came with us. They’re good men who have been deemed marriageable by the elders. When you’re ready, we’ll draw lots.”
“Excuse me?”
“All the marriageable men are going to draw lots to determine who gets to marry you. That way, there won’t be any quarreling over you or hard feelings later.”
The words are so absurd that it takes me a moment to understand them. My family intends to draw a husband’s name out of a hat and marry me off to whoever wins.
“I don’t want to get married, though. Forcing me to anyway is really messed up. You get that, don’t you?”
“The Bible is full of people casting lots,” Caleb says, looking pleased to teach me something. “It’s the only truly fair way to decide things.”
“Again, I don’t want to marry any of you. I want to go back to my old life, the one I chose for myself.”
“You only want that because you’re a spiritual widow right now. Once you have a man of God at your side, you’ll see that your father was right about this. You won’t like what your father has in store for you if you continue to rebel.”
“I already know what he has in store for me. He plans to beat me until I obey,” I state. Caleb doesn’t bother to deny it.
“Discipline sounds ugly when you describe it that way. In reality, it’s medicine for a damaged spirit.” He tilts his head and gives me another reassuring smile. “Only a man who truly loves you will properly discipline you. It’s because he’s more worried about your immortal soul than pleasing you.”
Caleb reaches for the loose strand of hair resting against my cheek. I move back quickly and tell him sternly, “Don’t touch me.”
After that, everything happens too quickly for me to intervene.
He stubbornly reaches for me again, the cot creaks, and Noah bolts between us.
The next thing I know, a red line appears across the back of Caleb’s hand and he’s dripping blood all over the place.
Noah has a blue throwing knife in his hand, edged with a bright red ribbon of blood.
I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. He was obviously just pretending to sleep.
Caleb yells and staggers back through the doorway. Meanwhile, Noah plants himself between us in some kind of little fighting stance. He holds the bloodied knife exactly the way Sabre taught him, although his hand is shaking.
“Don’t touch my mom!” he states in a guttural tone I’ve never heard him use before.
Oh my God, I can’t believe this is happening. I grab for Noah as boots pound on the stairs. This is the moment I feared, and I have no idea how to protect him.
My father appears in the doorway holding that godforsaken lamp. He takes in Caleb’s bleeding hand, the knife in Noah’s hand, and me with my arms wrapped around his small body from behind.
Noah flicks the knife in his hand, explaining, “He tried to touch my mom and I’m not gonna stand for that.”
I hold him tighter, tugging him back a step.
My father just laughs, with genuine happiness, a sound I’ve never once heard before. “Look at that,” he says to Caleb. “My grandson drew blood, and he was right to do it. You tried to lay hands on a woman who didn’t belong to you.”
My father crosses the room without showing any concern about the knife in Noah’s hand. “The boy taught you an important lesson. Don’t touch my daughter again.”
He looks down at his grandson with pride. “He defended his mother’s honor at nine years old. We need to write that down somewhere.”
Noah keeps the knife raised. “Agreeing about one thing doesn’t make us friends.”
My father moves faster than I expect from a man recovering from heart surgery.
One hand knocks the knife from Noah’s grip, sending it sliding across the floor in Caleb’s direction.
His other hand grabs the front of Noah’s shirt and lifts him onto his toes.
I don’t let go, so he can’t lift him very far.
The color drains from Noah’s face. Before my father can get worked up, I pull Noah free, dragging him against my body and taking a couple of steps back.
“Teach the boy the difference between courage and insolence, or I will,” he tells me while staring down at us.
He leaves with Caleb, who grabs the knife on their way out. And again, nobody searches Noah to see if he has more knives. They’re so arrogant they can’t conceive that he could have more knives on him.
Noah shakes in my arms for a bit. When he finally speaks, he adds some of Sabre’s natural confidence to his whisper. “Don’t worry. I have two more throwing knives.”
“Noah,” I say in a warning tone.
He interjects quickly, “They come in sets of three.”
I hug him and smile as I hold him close. I’m terrified, but I can’t help myself.
I don’t sleep. I sit beside the cot and organize everything I’ve learned because understanding the plan is the first step towards surviving it.
My family didn’t bring me here simply to hide me until the search ends.
This house is the first part of a program designed to break me down and place me under someone else’s control.
Between the two of us, Noah is the real prize. They want their grandson to be raised under my father’s authority. I can’t let that happen. No matter what, I need to get him out of here.
He looks up at me as the footsteps recede. “Sabre is coming,” he states with certainty.
Sabre is the father of my unborn child. He made me his old lady and put me in his property cut. And he’s not only protected us, but he’s also never broken a promise to either of us. I have no reason to doubt him. None at all.
“Yes,” I tell my son. “Sabre will come for us, and like you said, we need to be ready.”