The River of Woe (The Rivers of Hell #3)

Prologue – Simone

“Simone, arrête!” Thomas barks.

Why the hell would I stop? So he can threaten to punch me in the belly again?

“Dégage!” I yell back. Fuck off.

Fuck you, and your drunken insults, bruising hands, and the prison you keep me in.

I know Thomas got me pregnant on purpose. I know he made the hospital fire me so that I can’t even escape for a lousy nine hours a day. But I can’t stay in this apartment with him a moment longer. Not when I can’t breathe without him finding a fault with it.

I can’t even go to my family for help—it was a miracle I managed to escape them in the first place.

They were growing increasingly unhinged, completely under the influence of their religious zealot cousins.

After years of navigating life on my own, I thought Thomas would save me.

My knight in shining armor. Instead, he turned into my worst nightmare.

The apartment door slams closed behind me as I rush down the narrow hallway, my hurried steps muted against the carpeted hardwood.

I have a plan. I just need to wait for him to pass out so I can grab my emergency money and new passport. My coworker has an aunt in New Orleans who needs an au pair—a later-in-life child born in a well-off family. It’s perfect. Thomas will never find me. My family will never find me. I’ll be safe.

I dash down the winding stairs, my phone clutched in my hand, the edge of the protective casing biting into my palm. I need to call Manon and tell her it’s time. I can’t delay any longer, or Thomas will end up killing me.

I’m halfway down the stairway when a door slams against the wall with an echoing bang.

Merde!

I know that sound. He’s going after me.

“Simone! Reviens ici tout de suite!”

I’m not an idiot to go back, so I pick up the pace instead.

He’s faster, though, running like the devil is chasing him.

When in reality, he’s the devil chasing me.

Thomas’s fingers bite into my arm, my neck straining with whiplash as he pulls me to a stop.

My breath freezes in my lungs when I look into his dark eyes—he’s lost it this time, I can tell.

There’s so much hatred there, mixed with possession.

His nostrils are flared, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“Où tu crois aller? Tu m’appartiens!”

Where do I think I’m going? Well, anywhere but here. And the way he says I belong to him chills me to the bone. It’s not love that makes him say it. Thomas is a very small man inside. Having me under his thumb makes him feel bigger.

I try to keep my voice calm as I beg him to just let me get some fresh air. “S’il te pla?t… j’ai juste besoin de prendre l’air.”

At first, he doesn’t say anything, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths. His grip on me tightens to the point where my vision starts blurring from unshed tears of pain.

“Thomas, s’il te pla?t,” I beg. “Tu me fais mal.”

And he is hurting me. I’ll have throbbing bruises within moments. I haven’t been eating enough with the morning sickness, so it feels like he’s pressing my skin against bone.

“Salope,” he whispers. Whore is his favorite insult for me. “C’est qui, lui?”

Who is he? He thinks I’m meeting a man. And this is when Thomas is at his most dangerous. When he’s paranoid and jealous.

I try to pull myself out of his grip, resisting the urge to hit him with my phone—I need it, and it would only make him angrier.

“Lache-moi…” I whimper, struggling harder, panic clawing in my chest.

That’s when the heel of my foot slips off the stair, my flat ballet slippers offering no purchase on the shiny, worn wood. Instead of fighting him, I now reach for Thomas, my only instinct to protect myself and our baby.

Time slows as I flail, my eyes meeting his, an understanding passing between us; he holds my life in his hands. I recognize the moment he decides my fate—if he can’t have me, no one will.

My scream pierces the silence, the thick walls of the old building blocking the sounds of traffic outside. The world tilts before it spins, and I hit the stairs with a sickening crunch. Like a slinky, I bounce down the steps, every impact another nail in my coffin.

Passing out would be a mercy, but it doesn’t happen until my head hits the landing with a crack and a wave of darkness.

I dream of angels. Creatures more beautiful than anything I have ever seen. Their wings seem white at first glance, but as they’re lit by a light from above, I see the iridescent sheen of every color imaginable. And some colors I didn’t know I was capable of imagining.

I’m crushed when I’m woken up by the beeping of a heart rate monitor. I want to go back to watching the ethereal beings flying above me.

Maybe in time, they’d take me to the skies as well.

Just like they took my baby.