Page 41 of Devil Within

Already her heart had given up. Her soul was already dead. She’d always wondered how a person could will themselves to death, and now she knew. Lawrence might control what was happening to her body, but he couldn’t control her mind. Her last thoughts would be of Jade.

She was led out to the courtyard where the entire cult waited. Everyone wore black to mourn her fall from grace. Disciples came forward to take hold of her wrists and lock them into the leather cuffs of the whipping post. Her arms were spread wide. She vowed that she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of crying, but that determination broke with the first lash of the whip. She screamed and screamed even more with each slash, losing count after six. She sagged in the shackles.

When the final blow was dealt, the two women chosen to attend her came forward. They unbuckled the restraints on her wrists, but before she could fall onto her face, someone caught her. She was picked up and taken back to her room, where the bloody wounds on her back were attended to.

She lay on my stomach, beyond caring. Far beyond the pain, floating in and out of consciousness. Hallucinations visited her, and at times she could’ve sworn she heard Jade’s laugh. Saw his emerald eyes flashing in the shadows. She shivered as he ran his fingers up and down her arm. She focused on her memories. They were her heaven. Her everything.

She lost track of time, but sometime later, a woman entered the room with a new white shapeless dress. Her back was on fire, and the rough cloth felt like a wire brush scraping against the weeping wounds. As she was led to the next stage of the Penance, she had to walk along the path outlined by the people witnessing her fall from grace. Her mind was blank. She didn’t care. Not anymore. Not even when the sweatboxes came into view.

This was the second part of the penance. She was supposed to stay in the box until she had sweat the evil out. For that to happen, she had to renounce the man she loved. To save herself, she was supposed to give him up. Her stepfather thought she would cave, but what he failed to understand was that if her freedom was gone, she had no reason to care.

In her heart, she mourned for the life she could’ve had. For the people who were her friends. For the home she’d never make. For the child she’ll never have. For a future that had been in the palm of her hand. The truth of the matter was that none of that came close to the love she had for the only person who made her truly alive. She loved Jade with everything that she was, and that was why she could never renounce him.

The sweatbox would be her tomb, and she made peace with herself, for the short life of Shiloh Gibson.

“Well, daughter,” her stepfather said behind her. “Do you renounce the heathen way you lived, so you may move onto the last stage of the Penance with the desire to transform?”

Slowly, she turned and looked at him. “I forgive you.”

His brow pulled low. “What?”

“There is no room inside me anymore for you,” she said. “So, I forgive you.”

Then she turned back to the sweatbox and entered it, sitting down on the narrow seat. The last view she had of the world was her stepfather’s angry face. She closed her eyes and went back to the lovely dream of when she and Jade made love for the first time.

The heat messed with the progression of time. She had no clue how long she’d been sweating. She floated on a cloud. Up there, the heat couldn’t touch her. Sweat didn’t run off her body and pool on the floor of the box. Her brain tried desperately to stay alive by conjuring Jade’s voice, but she knew she was fading.

She didn’t know how long she’d been in there, but she reckoned she didn’t have much longer. Five minutes, maybe ten? Certainly, no longer than that. A person could die within fifteen minutes of heat stroke, and she knew she had been in there for a while. But it didn’t matter. Nothing did anymore. She had no desire to stay in the world if she couldn’t truly be free.

The cloud drifted higher.

“...Fuck! I found her!”

“...Shiloh! Wake up!”

“...Come on, baby, don’t do this...”

“...Quick, quick, quick! She needs help...”

“...Shiloh, hold on...”

Jade was talking to her. She wished she could assure him that everything was okay. Strange, she also heard Nero’s voice, but she wasn’t suffering anymore. Finally, she was free of her past. Free of the pain. Free of the memories.

Death beckoned, and she took its hand.

Chapter Thirteen

Consciousness slowly filled Jade’s mind, dragging him from the blackout the drug had induced. He barely opened his eyes, keeping them slits to make sure the man driving didn’t become aware his passenger was now awake. Luckily, Jade still wore the same pants he’d been wearing when he’d been captured, so he slowly, carefully, reached to the waistband to make sure his tracker was activated. When the damn car blocked them in, he’d moved the GPS tracker he had hidden on his bike and hid it on himself. Now, he was fucking happy his first bike had been stolen. Otherwise, he might not have a tracker. Good thing he listened to his instincts. By his calculations, he and Shiloh had been ambushed the day before, so the Sons should’ve already been put on red alert. When they found his bike, he knew Saint would discover the tag missing, and know why.

Once he got Shiloh back, he was going to spank her ass until it hurt to sit down. How dare she make such a stupid bargain with that fucking monster? And how dare she declare her love and not give him the courtesy of doing the same?

Because he did. He loved her more than his own life.

He had no idea how long he’d been knocked unconscious. Had a day passed already? Two? His bladder told him it had been a while. The longer Shiloh stayed with that maniac, the more she could be suffering. He had to get back to her quickly.

“Hey, asshole,” he said.

The driver jumped a little, obviously expecting his prisoner to be asleep the whole trip.