“And then there are the three tests neatly tucked away at the bottom of your bag,” he continued, his voice soft but relentless. “Three tests, Mercy. Were you hoping for different answers?”
I froze beneath him, my body rigid with shock. My mind raced through the possibilities — had he gone through my bag while I was cooking dinner? Had he been watching me this whole time, playing with me like a cat with a mouse?
“Get off me.” I pushed against his chest.
He didn't move. Instead, his weight pressed more firmly against me, pinning me to the bed.
“That's not how this works,” he said, his voice honey-smooth but with an edge.
His hips began to move again, slowly, thrusts that my body responded to despite everything. My hands pushed against his shoulders, but it was like trying to move stone.
“Stop,” I said, my voice stronger now. “Judah,stop.”
Something shot across his face — disappointment, perhaps, or calculation — before he withdrew from me in one fluid motion. He rolled to his side, propped up on one elbow, watching me with those pale, unreadable eyes.
I jumped out of the bed — unsure what had gotten over me. “You do that again, and God is my witness, I will fuckingkillyou.”
I stumbled backward, fixing my nightgown with shaking hands. Judah remained on the bed, watching me with a stillness that was more threatening than any movement could have been.
“Mercy,” he said my name like a prayer, almost… amused. “Come back to bed.”
“You went through my things.” My voice was steadier than I felt, anger burning through the fear. “You hadnoright.”
A smile touched the corner of his mouth, not reaching his eyes. “No right? To know about my child?”
The word hit me like a physical blow. My child. As if it were already decided, alreadyhis.
“I haven't decided anything yet,” I said, each word precise.
He sat up slowly, the sheet pooling around his waist. His bare chest caught the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting half his face in shadow.
“There's nothing to decide,” he replied, a slight crease between his dark eyebrows.
“It ismybody—” I argued.
“It is God’swill.”
“Is it God's will when young girls disappear from this town?” I shot back, wrapping my arms around myself. “Was that what God wanted when old men put golden cherries in their hands?”
The stillness that came over him was absolute. For a heartbeat, I thought I'd gone too far — pushed beyond some boundary that couldn't be crossed. When he finally moved, it was with the careful grace of a predator, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“You've been talking to Hall.” Not a question. A statement delivered with such cold certainty that I felt the air leave my lungs.
“I've been asking questions,” I corrected, backing toward the bathroom door. “Questions I should have asked months ago.”
Judah stood, naked and unashamed in the moonlight. He reached for his robe, left hanging over the back of an armchair, and slipped it on without taking his eyes off me. “Mercy,” he said, his voice softening. “You're upset. Your hormones are—”
“Don't,” I cut him off, fury rising. “Don't you dare dismiss me like that.”
He tied the belt of his robe. “What is it you want to do? Leave? Be a single mother? Or worse — kill an innocent soul because its parents can’t see eye to eye?”
The word “kill” landed between us like a physical blow. I flinched.
“I haven't said anything about—” I stopped myself, realizing I was being drawn into his framing. “This isn't about that. This is about what I found. About what you're doing in this town.”
Judah moved toward me, and I retreated until my back hit the bathroom door.
“What I'm doing,” he repeated softly, “is carrying on a tradition that has sustained this community for generations.What exactly do you think you understand about St. Francisville after a few months here?”
