“I understand.”
His throat bobs as he reaches behind his neck and unclips the silver St. Christopher medallion dangling from a long chain. He leans forward and fastens it around my throat before kissing my forehead. The metal is warm from being against his skin, almost as if I truly have a part of him with me.
“I can give you fifteen minutes, max, before I have to alert him of your treachery.”
“That’s all I need,” my mother growls.
His eyes fall closed, and he nods. “Then go.”
She pauses and spins before wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry I can’t save you, son, I will never forgive myself.”
His arms wrap around her, and they tighten before he releases her and forces her back with a hand on her shoulder. His gaze finds me once more.
“Don’t forget me,” he whispers.
“Never.”
Then we fly out of the door into the frosty night. As we push through a convenient gap in the garden hedge, manage to avoid the dogs prowling the village, and escape through a loose panel in the fence lining the compound boundary, I realize my mother has been planning this for some time. Weeks? Months? Years?
She leads the way into the dark forest, the lush scent of wet earth and the crunch of the leaves underneath our feet the only sounds that don’t belong. My heart thrums in my chest at mynew future being written with each stomp of our booted feet. We just have to make it out of here, and the world is ours.
An excited, blood-curdling howl shatters the surrounding night air. A call to hunt.
The chase has begun.
Chapter Three
Eleanor
Misery creates monsters.
My mother’s steps falter at the knowledge we are now on borrowed time. My heart misses a beat as fear pounds in my veins. I only hope she has a plan extending beyond the simple escape she engineered. The dogs howl periodically, closing in on us. Will they tear us limb from limb? Or incapacitate us so Jonathan can show the village what happens to women who dare to defy him? I already know, and yet I still risk it.
I would prefer the first option. I have witnessed his lessons. My blood runs cold thinking of the brutality he dispenses to those he deems unworthy. No one is safe, not the men, the wives, nor the children.
My mother slows, then stops. I search her face. Why are we stopping? They will be on us before we know it. She pants, her breath misting the air as she turns to face me. She pulls off her backpack, unzips it, and tugs out the drawstring bag full of my bloody rags. Now they make sense. My heart stutters in mychest, and I shake my head, my hair flying out around me, tears welling in my eyes.
“No, Mama.”
Her hand cups my cheek, her eyes warm but unwavering. “I’m going to lead them away from us. You keep running. You see the tallest mountain?”
My eyes lift to the giant pointed shadow rising to meet the moon. “Yes.”
“Head in that direction. There will be a man with a black truck. He has the same eyes as you, and his hair is probably a little gray by now. He’s taller than your brother. His name is Steven. You can trust him. He’s waiting for you.”
“Us,” I correct, reminding her that she will be leaving with me. Together we will start a new life.
“Yes, my darling girl, us. Now make haste. Do not slow, pause, or stop, no matter what you hear. Jonathan will make our lives hell for this. Remember that, and use it to keep going.”
She splits to the left, leaving me alone on the path toward the mountain. I stare for a moment at her retreating figure until she fades into the night, fighting the instinct to follow after her. I pick up her bag, drag in a breath, and force myself into a jog, a steady but relentless pace, one which my mother should be able to catch up with. Just like when playing chase with the young ones—make it a game, but not unobtainable. With every step, a cold sinking realization weighs down my limbs. She’s not following me. My legs slow, my lungs burning, and I stop, straining my ears. There are no howls. No growls. No excited yips. That means they are on a trail and don’t want to spook their prey. Whirling around, I search the dark still woods.Mama.
I glance between the mountain and the path I’ve trodden, biting my lip. I’m not a coward. I swallow hard, shifting the backpacks against my shoulders. I will not leave my mother to her fate alone. I can’t conceive of a life without her at my side.
I begin trekking back. There are several forks on the trail I’m unsure of, but I don’t hesitate. I follow my instinct, a tugging in my chest leading me on.
Male murmurs float in the air, sending a trickle of cold sweat down my spine. They must be close.
“Found her!” someone shouts.
