Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ariana
The man — Father — released his harsh grip on my face and paced the length of the room in front of me, his footfalls causing my anxiety to spike with every step.
I shifted on my knees, the hardwood floor uncomfortable, especially for such a long period of time.
“Stop moving. The Lord requires obedience.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” I squeaked out, doing my best to remain completely still.
“Better.”
It was silent as he continued pacing. I had a feeling he was simply doing it to test me. To see if I’d move. God, I wanted to. With every second that passed, my knees screamed for relief.
“Repeat after me, my child,” he said finally, the heat of his stare scalding my skin. “Father, I confess the wickedness inside me.”
I opened my mouth, but my voice was caught in my throat. This didn’t sound like any prayer I’d ever heard. But I played along. I had no choice if I wanted to survive.
“Father, I confess the wickedness inside me,” I said softly, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
He gripped my hair and yanked my head back yet again. “I don’t believe you. This only works if you believe what you’re saying. Or are you not genuinely interested in repenting? Do you want God to punish you for your transgressions instead?”
“No.”
“No, what? Do you not want to repent?”
“I do!” I cried out. “I want to repent!”
“Then prove it.” He forcefully released me, causing me to lose my balance again. I extended my hands in front of me to break my fall, then quickly righted myself to kneel again. “Father, I confess the wickedness inside me,” I rushed out, my voice filling the room.
He didn’t immediately say anything, but I felt him approach from behind and push my hair over my shoulder.
My pulse kicked up when the heat of his breath scalded the back of my neck.
In the exact place where Blake hid the tracker.
Was it still there? I hadn’t checked when I first woke up. Now I wished I had.
“Say, my flesh is weak and invites corruption.” He ran a finger along my shoulder blades before moving toward my collarbone.
“My flesh is weak and invites corruption,” I repeated.
“Yes, it is,” he replied, his voice growing husky.
I squeezed my eyes shut as he dipped his hand into my nightgown, his fingers inching toward my breast.
I held back a sob when he reached my nipple and pinched so hard I nearly fell over yet again.
“And because of that weakness?” he panted as he twisted my nipple, pain ricocheting through me. But I swallowed down my scream. I refused to give him the satisfaction.
“I…” I trailed off, unsure what he wanted.
“Say it!” he roared, twisting my nipple even harder.
This time I couldn’t hold it back. I’d survived years of Victor’s cruel and sadistic treatment. But after Henry, after experiencing his loving touch and affectionate words, I’d grown complacent.
“I don’t know what you want me to say!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the room.
He released my nipple, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. But any relief was short-lived. With a firm grip, he yanked me to my feet by my hair, using it like a leash to pull me toward the bed.
“Defiance is what poisoned Eve.” He loosened his belt and pulled it from the loops, the sound of leather making my teeth chatter. “You will repent. Whether on your knees. On your back.” He moved toward me, his mouth a whisper from my neck. “Or bent over like the jezebel you are.”
He forced me onto my stomach and pushed my legs apart.
“Now say it. Say you deserve correction.”
As he lifted up my nightgown and dragged the leather belt between my legs, panic raced through me.
I’d been here before. Victor played these sort of mind games, too. Threatened punishment if I didn’t do as he demanded, even if his demand involved a form of punishment itself.
There was no winning with him.
Just like there was no winning here.
There was simply taking the path of least resistance.
“I deserve correction,” I whispered shakily.
A harsh blow landed against my backside, and I released a loud wail, an excruciating pain spiraling through me as I struggled to maintain my balance.
“Not good enough. Louder. Tell Father what you deserve.”
“I deserve correction!”
He belted me again, tears streaming down my face from the pain. The humiliation. The torment.
“Again!” he demanded, his breathing growing uneven.
“I deserve correction!” I choked out as loudly as I could.
The room blurred, and I attempted to wiggle free, but his firm arm on my lower back kept me glued to the bed.
“Again!”
“I deserve correction!” I cried out again.
And again, the belt landed against my skin, sobs wracking through me.
I hated myself for being so weak. For not being the warrior Henry thought I was. For letting this man break me within a matter of minutes. I thought I was stronger than this.
“The Lord appreciates humility.” He released me, smoothing out my nightgown before helping me to my feet. “Especially from women burdened by sin.”
He turned, and I grew hopeful he was about to leave. Instead, he moved toward the corner of the room where he’d been lingering when I first noticed him.
“I know this feels cruel to you now,” he soothed, his voice taking on an eerie calmness.
“But suffering is the first step toward purification. You came to me stained by sin. By betrayal. By lust. By corruption.” He stood by the fireplace, his eyes focused on the dancing flames before him.
“But through your suffering, you are now on the path toward redemption.”
He bent down and retrieved a fire poker.
At least I thought it was a fire poker.
Instead, as he turned toward me, I realized it was a branding iron like those used on cattle. It was in the shape of a cross with a crown on the top, the bottom sharpening into something resembling a sword.
And in the middle was the letter J.
“What is that?” I asked, my eyes widening in panic as I tried to back away.
“I was blind once,” he stated, using his free hand to unbutton his shirt. “I lived a life of sin. Of excess. Of…debauchery. Just like you.” He pushed the fabric to the side, revealing a brand on his chest.
I wasn’t an expert in brands, but I’d guess it was years old. Probably even decades.
“But I was chosen. Just like you. And I was saved from that life. Just like I’m saving you.”
A sudden chill overtook me, my eyes fixated on the glowing red symbol.
“No,” I exhaled, feeling like I was about to throw up.
“You should feel honored. God chose you to be redeemed.”
“No. He didn’t. You chose me to control. To manipulate. To abuse, torture, fuck. I don’t even know. All I do know is there is no God here in this room.”
“I know it’s scary. I thought the same thing. But trust me. You’ll eventually come to understand. Suffering washes the soul clean. And I’m here to help clean your soul.”
I shook my head, panic clawing at me as he backed me into the corner, my pulse thundering in my ears. Reaching for the knot at the neck of my nightgown, he tugged and my top fell open, revealing my breasts.
“Please don’t,” I begged. “I’ll do anything. Just please… Don’t do this.”
“It is God’s will,” he said calmly, the heat from the iron burning my skin even from inches away. “From this day forward, you will be known as Seraphine.”
“But my name is—”
I didn’t get a chance to finish my statement before pain seared into me.
White-hot.
Blinding.
Excruciating.
A scream tore through me, the sound unlike any I’ve ever heard before. And he didn’t stop. He wrapped his hand around my nape, keeping me locked in place, his frantic eyes locked on mine as he kept the iron pressed against my chest, the scent of burning flesh surrounding me, raw and putrid.
Finally, he stepped back, releasing his hold on me, and I collapsed to the floor.
I thought the worst thing I’d ever have to endure would be a few cigarette burns or having Victor carve into my stomach over and over.
That was nothing compared to this.
I bent over, expelling the contents of my stomach onto the floor while he simply watched.
“You’re a sick fuck,” I hissed out, not even caring what he’d do to me in retaliation. “You won’t get away with this.” I summoned the strength and lifted my head, glowering at him.
“Why?” He tilted his head, a conniving grin tugging on his mouth. “Think someone’s looking for you?”
“Yes. And when he gets here, he—”
“How’s that cut by your ear, Seraphine? Healing okay, I hope?”
My heart instantly dropped to the pit of my stomach, and I pressed my fingers to the spot where Blake had hidden the tracker.
Every other time, I’d been able to feel it beneath the skin. He’d warned me it might move around a little.
But this time, there was nothing.
Other than an open wound where my tracker used to be.
“Get some rest, Seraphine.” His gaze turned dark and sinister. “You’re going to need it.”