“Where are we going?” My voice comes out smaller than I intend, hoarse from crying.
Levi glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Your house.”
“What house?”
“Your house. Yours and Calder’s.” His eyes flick to Calder slumped in the passenger seat, then back to the road. “On the main property. Been waiting for you since the wedding. Well, since Calder was eighteen, but he prefers the cabin.”
My stomach drops. The main property. Where Roman lives. Where his eyes can watch us, where his reach extends to every corner, where there’s no escape.
The cabin was isolated, hidden. This will be the opposite. Exposed. Monitored.
“I want to go back to the cabin,” I say.
“Not happening.” Levi’s voice is gentle but firm. “You’re a Bishop now. Bishops live on Bishop land.”
I press myself against the door, wishing I could disappear. Not pointing out that Calder is a Bishop and the cabin is still on Bishop land. My cheek still throbs where Roman hit me. In the dim light from the dashboard, I catch Calder’s reflection in the side mirror. His face is a mess of bruises and cuts, one eye already swollen shut.
He took that beating because of me. Because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Because I had to react when Roman degraded us.
The memory of Roman’s hand connecting with my face makes me flinch. The sound of it. The shock. The pain that exploded across my skull.
And then Calder, rising from his chair with murder in his eyes.
We turn off the main road onto a smaller drive. In the headlights, I can see a house emerging from the darkness, smaller than the main house but still substantial. Log and stone construction, wide porch, windows reflecting the truck’s lights back at us like watchful eyes.
This is supposed to be home.
It looks like another cage.
Levi parks near the front steps. Sawyer pulls up behind us in his SUV, engine still running. The brothers move with coordinated efficiency, helping Calder out of the passenger seat. He can barely walk, leaning heavily on Levi as they guide him up the porch steps.
I follow because there’s nowhere else to go.
The front door is unlocked. Inside, the house smells like fresh paint and pine. Someone’s been here recently, preparing it. Furniture arranged in the living room. Kitchen stocked. A home ready for the newlyweds.
It makes me want to scream.
“Bedroom’s upstairs,” Sawyer says, helping Levi maneuver Calder toward the staircase. “First door on the right.”
I hang back in the entryway, watching them half-carry Calder up the stairs. His boots scrape against the wood with each step. The sound echoes through the empty house.
I should help. Should do something other than stand here frozen. But my body won’t cooperate, shock settling into my bones like frost.
Roman’s going to brand me. Burn his mark into my skin like I’m livestock. Like I’m property.
The thought makes my stomach heave.
I stumble toward what I hope is a bathroom and find one tucked under the stairs. Make it to the toilet just in time to empty what’s left in my stomach, which isn’t much. Not after I already puked in the bushes.
When there’s nothing left, I sink to the floor, press my hot cheek against the cool tile, and try to remember how to breathe.
A knock on the door. “Saint?” Levi’s voice, gentle. “You okay in there?”
“Fine,” I lie.
“I’m leaving a glass of water outside the door. And some ibuprofen. For your face.”
My face. Right. The handprint that’s probably already turning into a spectacular bruise I’m sure.
