“Fifteen minutes?”
“Uh…huh.” My voice cracks. Tears burn hot down my cheeks. “AJ…”
Abe’s breath hitches, and for a moment I think he might collapse right there. “He knows where you are?”
Fear slices through me, sharper than any blade. What if I’ve just sealed my fate? And AJ’s? What if the days Abe spent in the box broke him? Oh, God. I didn’t think this through. The brief glimpse of hope fades in an instant.
“Grace, he’ll die if he tries anything. The sentries…they’ll see him coming. They’ll kill him.”
The concern in his voice is so real, I think—I hope—he’s still the kind man who helped me hold onto the last shred of my life I would have otherwise lost. My name.
I take his hand again, dragging my finger across his palm.
H-E-L-P.
B-O-X.
His brows knit. “Help…box? Oh, fuck. The girl. The one Malone said was causing trouble. She’s in the box?”
I nod. “Fend. Fr-end.”
Fresh sobs claw at my chest. I press both hands to my mouth, terrified my weeping will bring Prophet storming back.
Abe’s eyes darken, and a tremor ripples through his body. “Listen to me, Grace. My son was dead to me the minute he declared me mentally incompetent and dragged me here against my will. What walks these halls is rot in a man’s skin. I will not let him break another soul—not yours, not that girl’s. Not while there’s still breath in my body.”
His conviction, the absolute truth of it in his voice and in his eyes, cuts through my terror with bright, warm hope.
Abe leans in and lowers his voice. “I’ll try to see to her. But…my son doesn’t trust me. He hasn’t—not once—since he found out you were alive. He’ll send Vincent to watch me mix the ritual wine. If I try to weaken it, and he catches on, it’ll be the end of me.”
I shake my head hard enough, it feels like the room tries to throw me sideways into the wall. “Nd…me…too.”
For a heartbeat, the silence between us is unbearable. Then Abe nods once, resolve hardening his expression. “I’ll do whatever I can. For you. For the girl in the box. I promise.”
Abe reaches into his leather bag and pulls out a small vial. He unscrews the top, then pours a dark liquid into a tin cup. A bitter, acrid scent burns my nose.
“It’s not much. Charcoal and a mix of roots. The oleanders have been poisoning you for hours now. My son doesn’t understand how toxic they are. But this will help slow what’s already in your system. And it’ll give you a little extra strength for tonight.”
He presses the cup into my hands. The first sip nearly chokes me, but I force it down and take another. Then another.
When the cup is empty, he caps the vial and slides it under my pillow. “Take the rest when the sun sets. Not before.” Abe covers my hand with both of his. “Now rest. He won’t come for you until close to nine.” For a long moment, he doesn’t move. But eventually, he rises, takes the water glass back into the bathroom, and refills it before setting it next to the bed. “I’ll tell Malone you need to rest. That I’ve given you a sedative. Sleep if you can.”
By the time he opens the door, his whole demeanor has changed to a beaten, weary old man.
For the first time since Prophet locked me in this room three years ago, I think maybe…I might survive this.
Chapter Eighty
AJ
Hardison moves like a man who’s already lost patience with subtlety. He ducks behind one of the ATVs, his fingers flying over the satellite phone while Zephyr taps into the line.
The weight of what we’re about to do—this deal we’re making with a devil—presses down on me. I don’t know how to justify it, but I know at the end, Grace will be alive, in my arms. And Parker will be free.
“Nothing says good life choices like dialing up a cartel boss for a friendly chat,” Hardison says.
“Friendly?” My brows shoot up. “Ain’t nothin’ about this that’s friendly.”
Connor adjusts his rifle strap across his chest, jaw tight. He hasn’t said a word in ten minutes, but the way his eyes keep flicking toward me, I reckon he’s thinking the same thing I am—this is insane.
