Her voice is low and broken. This isn’t the annoying woman that put snakes in my bed. It’s not the same person that’s a near constant fucking temptation. The woman in front of me is a damaged little girl, and I’ve never seen her like this. It’s like I’m meeting her for the first time. I glance at Carter, and finally feel like I understand them a little more. They’re trauma bonded. While they don’t share the same exact background, it’s close enough—two children, fucked up by the people that should have protected them.
Knox moves to sit on the floor beside her and pulls her into his arms. Taking the phone from her hands, he tosses it to me as he speaks low, his words only meant for her.
“We’re going to get him, Tesoro. You’ll put a stop to this. Use the photo to fuel your anger for him, but don’t let it destroy you. If you let him hurt you, he wins.” Knox strokes her hair and lifts his head to meet my gaze. His eyes burn with the same fire as I see in Carter’s, the same fire I feel sparking to life in my gut. One I desperately need to extinguish before it consumes me as it has my brothers.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
THE HEATHEN
“Is she his daughter?” Carter asks as I cling to Knox, feeling safe in his arms.
“No, she’s my sister Abigail’s daughter. Her father is John, a man that the Prophet met in prison. It’s a long story, but he’s the one that put this shit into Jedediah’s head. Without him, I don’t think any of this would’ve happened.”
Knox runs a hand through my hair, and watches me while he asks, “He’s still alive?”
I nod before sitting up to explain.
“Yes, he’s hiding with the Prophet. I’m sure when we find one of them, the other won’t be too far behind.” I stare at the floor as I pick at my nails. None of this is making sense. “I don’t understand this. Jedediah only has sex with the girls he marries. He said God told him only when a girl reaches menstruation is she ready. Delilah cannot have had a period already. It’s getting worse. I have to go, and I have to go now.”
“No,” Killian growls loud enough to make me jump.
“Tell me, Killer, what will they do to protect the Prophet?”
“Anything,” I answer.
He folds his arms over his chest and glares at me with an annoyed expression.
“Who will they kill to protect him?”
“Anyone,” I answer quietly, as I try to wrap my head around why Killian would care.
Opening the refrigerator beside him, he grabs a beer, opens it, and takes a long swig before he continues.
“Exactly, which is why all three of us will be with you. This will be well planned out. You’re not running over there tonight on a fucking whim. That’s an emotional reaction. Emotional reactions get people killed."
I’m completely lost hearing Killian’s response. I heard what he said, but I don’t understand why he suddenly cares. This man hates me, and now he’s concerned about me dying?
“Like you care,” I snort, just barely holding back my laughter.
“Killer,” he warns, and I meet his glare with one of my own.
“Killian.”
Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he groans in obvious frustration.
“Do you always have to be so fucking difficult?”
Knox places his hand on my thigh, and holds me tight on his lap.
“She’s a good girl for us. This may be a ‘you’ problem, brother.”
Killian rubs his temples on either side as he blows out a long exaggerated breath.
“I have a fight in a few hours. I want Killer there, for no reason other than making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. She’ll ride with me.”
I move to get up, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but Knox wraps his arm around my waist and holds me against his chest.
I struggle against his hold and bite out, “I won’t wait. There are children being hurt.”
