Page 158 of Outcast’s Vow

“This way,” Baptiste says to me, taking a step forward.

I’m hesitant. Our joined hands go taut as my husband moves and I stay frozen.

Before we can do anything else, there’s the same loud sound of gears turning, just as before, and a stone wall swiftly rises from the ground in the space between us. Baptiste can’t step back. The wall is too fast, even for him.

He looks desperately at me as he lets go of my hand, and we are separated by stone.

“Sylvie...”

One last cry of my name and then the wall slams into place with a final, definitive crack, cutting the tunnel in two. Sealing me off from my husband. Dust hits my face.

No, no, no.

I hurl my fists at the wall and scream Baptiste’s name, but there’s not even a squeak from the other side.

Oh, God.

So, this is what Cromwell meant by finding our own way.

Stupid Castaways and their massive hard-ons for indulgent mysteries.

I knew I couldn’t trust them. I knew coming here was a stupid idea. I should’ve listened to my gut.

I glance around my new prison, my heart rate speeding and my eyes watering. It’s eerily silent in here. This is a tomb. Just me. And my fears.

Ah, there’s another door Baptiste and I didn’t see. It’s wooden and low. No lock on this one. I pray it isn’t another trap. I pull down on the handle and step inside...

Into a room.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the new space.

Father is there. Not a ghost, but actual living, breathing Father.

“Hello, Sylvie.”

Shock pins me in place at the sound of his voice and the sight of him. I just stare.

Father is wearing a black suit, just like Baptiste. It fits his broad, well-maintained frame, as always, very well. He’s perfectly calm.

Of course he’s here. He’s obviously the architect of all this.

“Cromwell did say there would be surprises in here,” I mutter. “I didn’t expect nightmares as well. Where are your guards? Your goons?”

“I wanted you alone.”

“I see it now,” I remark. “This party in New Orleans was arranged simply for my father to ambush me? For what?”

I’ve not wanted to see him, or even be in the same room as him, since that day at the mansion. Since the day his Order nearly took my freedom away.

“I’m here to tell you I’m...”

“Sorry?”

“Yes.”

I scoff.

“Yeah, Baptiste mentioned you said something similar to him. And I’m sorry to say it’s too little, too late.”