It’s harder than it looks. Or they made sure the blade was dull for this very reason. I feel bone as I dig too deep, and once I can grab the skin, I cut the rest off as fast as I can.
I walk over to the edge of the balcony and toss the blood-covered skin down to the first floor. It lands at the Lords feet, and his mask looks down at it before it looks back up at me. “Now kill her.”
My stomach drops at his words. Why didn’t they let me kill her first? Why make her suffer? It’s me they want to make suffer. She’s the one who’s bleeding, but they want me to live with the knowledge I’ve killed someone.
They set you up. It’s how they own you. She fucked up and must pay for her sins. On the other hand, I will have to live with her blood on my hands until they order someone else to kill me someday.
I turn to face the hooded woman once more, and I can hear her gasping for breath around her gag. She’s sweating profusely and shaking. Blood runs down her bony shoulders, small breasts, and anorexic stomach. Even in our world, we’re always told to look their version of perfect.
We’re groomed to be whores but never give it up willingly. Men give us crumbs, and we’re expected to survive off that. They prepare us to be thankful for the bare minimum.
How does a woman thrive when she’s kept in the dark and never watered? What these Ladies don’t understand is that we only have ourselves. I can only rely on myself.
Walking back over to her, I drop my eyes to the cart once more, and I see a gun lying in the lower basket.
I pick it up.It’ll be quick.I go to pull back the slide, but it’s harder than I thought it’d be. My father had guns. Hell, he was always packing. I grew up around them, and he took me to shoot. But I’ve never just picked up a gun and pointed it at a person before. Taking in a deep breath, I yank it back and see there’s a bullet chambered. I walk behind her and face my audience below. Pressing the end of the barrel to the back of her head, I keep my eyes open and on her trembling body as I pull the trigger, knowing they’re watching me.
The gunshot echoes through the large cathedral as her head hangs forward, and I feel my soul leave my body. She’s dead, and so is a part of myself. I no longer have one. I just sold it in exchange for I don’t know what. And deep down, I know it wasn’t worth it.
Trying to catch my breath, I make my way over to the stairs to leave, but I pause when I watch as the Lord who gave me the orders stands and so does the one sitting next to him, and then the one next to him.
I take a step back, my legs now shaking for another reason. My eyes go to the dead woman in the chair—it wasn’t messy. She’s covered in blood, but it’s more from removing her brand than shooting her in the head. It was straight through. An extra thin line of blood drips from the hood and onto the floor now that she’s hunched over.
I tell myself that they’re just coming to get her. To dispose of her body in the cemetery behind the cathedral—where all members who betray their oath are buried. But that voice in theback of my mind says I messed up, and they’re coming up here for me.
The three Lords split up. The first takes the stairs to the right, and the other two take the staircase to the left. Slowly, they make their way up to the balcony, and I place the gun on the cart so they don’t think I’m going to shoot them.
The two on the left make it to the balcony first. They both come to stand behind me. “On your knees,” one of them orders.
I want to run, but my legs give out at the order, and I do exactly as they say, kneeling in front of the baptism pool.
The one who gave the orders comes up beside me and grabs a pair of handcuffs off the cart that I hadn’t noticed before. He tosses them to one of the guys standing behind me. “Cuff her.”
Before I can say anything, someone slams a foot into my back. Pressing my face to the bloody floor, he smashes my bent legs underneath me, making it harder to breathe. My arms are grabbed behind my back where they cuff them. Then my shirt is ripped and quickly removed from my body. Even though I’m sweating, I shiver at the thought of being so defenseless in front of all these men.
I bite my inner cheek when my hair is fisted, and I’m yanked to sit up in nothing but my bra and bloody jeans as the Lords from below watch. I have a quick thought that at least the baptism pool is empty because I’d rather die by a bullet than drown.
The one calling the shots comes to stand in front of me, and I glare up at him, refusing to let the tears that sting my eyes fall. I will not look weak in front of them.
“You took a brand. Now you’ve earned one.”
The blood rushes in my ears at his words, knowing exactly what’s coming. Was that a test? The fact that I hurt her instead of taking the brand myself? If so, I failed.
I close my eyes and try to calm my breathing so I don’t pass the fuck out when I hear a blowtorch turn on behind me, heating the branding iron.
This is what you wanted, Annabelle.To be one of them. To be accepted into their fucking cult.
Not every woman in our world gets this opportunity. We’re only good for spreading our fucking legs and reproducing. I get to be more than that.
I was raised to understand that the Lords will give you whatever you want. You just have to be willing to give yourself for it.
So be it.
SIX
HAIDYN
“Haidyn?”
