Chapter 74 Noelle
NOELLE
Noelle stared at the viewscreen as if it were a nightmare made of pixels and static.
It can’t be. It can’t be him. It can’t be…
Her mind spun in useless circles, grasping for any explanation. Her palms felt clammy. Her knees went watery. Her breath came too shallow and too fast.
The man on the screen shifted, the brim of his baseball cap casting his mirrored eyes into deeper darkness.
“Who—?” she began, though she already knew.
“Don’t play games,” Branson drawled. “You know it’s me, babe.”
Then he reached up with a gloved hand and tugged down the camo-patterned gaiter mask, revealing the face she’d hoped never to see again—her personal nightmare made flesh.
The man she’d spent months trying to escape.
“No…” she breathed, her stomach dropping with dread.
The thin, pale line of his mouth curled upward. It wasn’t a smile—it was the hard-edged mockery of one.
“So, are you having fun up there on the Kindred Mother Ship?” he sneered. “Been fucking lots of those big Kindred assholes?”
The venom in his tone should have scared her—but instead, something inside her snapped and a fury she’d repressed for years rose to the surface.
Noelle lifted her chin.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” she said coolly. “Two of them, in fact.”
Branson’s beady eyes narrowed to mean little slits.
“You little whore,” he spat. “I knew you went up there just to cheat on me!”
“No, Branson,” Noelle retorted. “I came up here to teach a class—and to get away from you.” Her voice trembled only slightly. “I left you the divorce papers on the kitchen table. Just sign them and we can both move on.”
“Move on?” he barked. “Fuck that! I told you, I’m never letting you go.” His lip curled. “Now get your ass back down to Earth.”
“No.” Noelle’s voice was like ice. “I’m staying here on the Mother Ship. The Kindred protect women.” Her throat tightened. “They don’t beat them or hurt them.”
“I only punished you when you deserved it!” Branson exploded. “Wasn’t my fault you were so damn mouthy—I had to beat some respect into you!”
“Dios, listen to yourself,” she snapped. “You’re disgusting. And you look ridiculous. Why are you even dressed like that? It’s not hunting season.”
At those words, something terrible lit his eyes…an ugly, triumphant gleam that made her stomach clench.
“That’s what you think, babe,” he murmured. “See, the reason I’m dressed like this, is that I signed up with a certain government agency.” He leaned forward until his face filled the screen. “One where it’s always hunting season…and the roads are always icy, if you know what I mean.”
Noelle’s mouth went bone dry and her heart stuttered painfully in her chest.
“You… you wouldn’t,” she managed to get out. “Even you wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“Fuck your ‘stooping,’” he snarled. “There was a sign-on bonus.”
The room felt suddenly too small…too hot and bright. Noelle’s hands trembled as she dug her nails into her palms.
“And guess what?” Branson continued. “Now I’ve got the power to go arrest your precious little Abuelita and throw her ass in a detention center.”
“You can’t do that!” Noelle gasped. Her heart hammered so hard she felt dizzy. “My grandmother is an American citizen! She got her citizenship when I was ten! I remember—I went to the ceremony!”
Branson just shrugged.
“Too fucking bad. You think anybody cares?” He laughed—a dry, ugly sound. “Citizen, not a citizen, legal, illegal—doesn’t matter. All anyone sees is that she’s brown and doesn’t speak English.”
“You’re lying,” Noelle whispered. But her chest felt tight and her pulse thundered in her ears.
“Am I?” Branson asked, poisonous satisfaction dripping from each syllable.
“Don’t test me, babe. I can have her disappeared just like that.
” He snapped his fingers sharply. “Could ship her back to Mexico. Or maybe someplace worse. Prison camp in South America, maybe? Wonder if sweet little abuelita’s heart could take it? ”
Noelle’s vision went blurry with tears—hot, stinging tears of rage and helpless terror.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she choked.
“Oh yes I would.” Branson leaned in, filling the screen with his self-satisfied smirk.
“Now…you come down here right now, and I might not break down her door and drag her off to a detention center. But you better get here quick. And you better come alone.” His voice sharpened.
“If I see anyone else—anyone at all with you—I’ll give the word, and my boys will pay her a little visit. And you’ll never…never see her again.”
Noelle felt sick—the room seemed to have tilted sideways.
Branson was threatening her grandmother—her sweet, gentle abuelita. The one person who had loved her unconditionally her whole life—who had raised her after her parents died.
Branson would use her as bait. And he’d do it smiling, the asshole!
Noelle felt like her insides were turning to lead.
She knew that if she went back to Earth, he’d never let her go again.
She knew he might hurt her—he might even kill her.
Or he might deport her too, if that was what it took to keep his sick sense of control.
It wouldn’t matter that she had been born in America—they were deporting everyone brown these days and Noelle knew it.
But she couldn’t leave her grandmother to be terrorized.
I have to go back, she thought numbly. Even if it means…even if it means I never come back. Never see Burn or Bright again.
“All right,” she said, barely hearing her own voice. “I’m coming.”
“Make it quick,” Branson snapped. “Or sweet little abuelita gets a ride to the nearest center. I’m waiting outside her house—see you soon.”
And then the screen went dark.
Silence fell around her like a suffocating shroud.
Noelle sank slowly to her knees, her fingers digging into the carpet as though she could anchor herself to something—anything—solid.
A heavy, hollow dread had settled into her chest.
The future she’d barely begun to dream of—a future filled with Bright’s sweet tenderness and Burn’s fierce love—had fractured like a crystal goblet dropped on concrete. She would never see either of her men again.
She was going back into hell.
And she was going alone.