Chapter Seventeen
THE FRONT DOOR hadn’t latched when I ran inside.
It hung open just enough for the wind—or a whisper—to slip through.
I should’ve kept moving. Should’ve checked on the kids, calmed my breathing, maybe read a few lines of that book I kept clutching like it could protect me, but I heard my name.
Not spoken directly. Just enough to freeze me mid-step.
His voice wasn’t Zeke’s.
It was the other one. The man he called Devil.
That name alone made my stomach clench.
“She yours?” Devil asked.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs, breath stuck in my throat. The book pressed to my chest like a shield.
“She’s nobody’s. Just needed help.”
I liked the sound of that, being nobody’s. Free. Unclaimed. But life hadn’t given me that option. Not in the religion, not with Gabrial, and not now. Men always had a way of owning things they touched.
“She looked spooked when we pulled up,” Devil said next. “Like we might hurt her.”
I pressed myself deeper into the wall, retreating into the shadows.
My back hit the cool plaster. I’d seen men like them before, boots, leather, silence that said more than words.
They looked different, but the danger was the same, and I knew what men like that could do if they decided you weren’t worth the trouble.
“Keep her outta sight. We don’t need fresh fires while we’re still putting out old ones.”
My gut twisted.
That was it. That was the line.
I couldn’t drag Zeke into my problem. I couldn’t let him get pulled under just because he was kind to me. He didn’t understand. Not really. Not the depth of it. Not the fire that would rain down if Gabrial ever found out where I was and who helped me.
My hands started to shake. I turned, walking soft across the floor on bare feet, heading to the room where I’d stashed the bag I hadn’t unpacked. I dropped to my knees and unzipped it, fingers fumbling. No plan. No destination. Not even a car.
I had one shoe on when I heard the front door creak open behind me.
He didn’t call my name.
His boots crossed the threshold. That familiar rhythm of step, pause, step again. I kept my back to him. I couldn’t bring myself to look yet.
“You heard some of that,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.
I didn’t answer.
“I ain’t gonna pretend you didn’t, but before you do somethin’ stupid like disappearin’, I need you to listen.”
Still nothing from me.
He didn’t fill the silence with soft words or lies. Just gave it a beat, then spoke again.
“I told ‘em you were worth it. Told ‘em I trust you.”
Something in my chest cracked at that. I didn’t know why it meant so much, coming from him. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like I wasn’t broken beyond repair.
I turned slowly, one shoe on, one bare foot pressed to the worn floorboards.
“You shouldn’t,” I said.
He didn’t flinch. Just watched me with those eyes like clear sky before a storm.
“I bring danger,” I said. “People with guns and lies and prayers soaked in blood. You think you can handle it, but you don’t know what’s out there. What’s waiting for me to stop running.”
“I don’t give a damn what’s waitin’,” he said. “Ain’t nobody got the right to hurt you or them kids.”
My throat tightened. “I don’t want your blood on my hands.”
“You won’t,” he said. “Because I’m not bein’ dragged into this, I’m walkin’ in with my eyes open. That’s my choice.”
I looked down at the bag again. My fingers were still trembling. “I was just going grab a few things. Enough to get us by—”
“To what?” he asked, stepping closer. “To keep runnin’? Livin’ outta bags and shadows? That’s not a life. That’s not what they need.”
His words hit me like a slap. Not because he was cruel, but because he wasn’t.
He saw it. The truth I’d been avoiding.
“I ain’t sayin’ this is easy,” he added. “Hell, it’s probably gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever faced. But I meant what I said, you’re safe here. For as long as you need.”
I blinked hard, chest rising too fast. “You hardly know me,” I whispered.
His voice softened. “I know you well enough, Sable. I know enough to stand beside you.”
My heart thudded so loud it drowned everything else. For a second, I stood still. Then I let the bag drop from my hand. No drama. Just done.
When he opened his arms, I didn’t hesitate. I stepped into them. Carefully. Cautiously. Like I wasn’t sure if I was allowed. He held me close but not too tight. Like he knew I was still learning how to breathe.
Then he pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. “Talk to me,” he said. “Tell me what you’re runnin’ from?”