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I feel them waiting, tense. I feel River’s hand clap my shoulder in a death grip and hang on, feel Warren’s eyes telling me he’s here, feel Ezra nod his agreement, feel Jack in the room with me, no wise words tonight, only an urge to listen to the darkness inside.

Rage quakes through my limbs, tensing my muscles and flexing my fists. I turn to face my brothers.

“Whatever we have to.”

46 Delilah

My head’s so heavy. Sweat drenches my skin, waves of hot and cold threatening to drag me back down into darkness. I whimper, trying to move, to roll over onto a soft bed, but I can’t. I’m held tight.

Slowly, my eyelids flutter, even the simple motion of opening them seems like too big of a task.

I lift my head and stop breathing.

I’m in a church. The room is barren and musty except for a few crooked pews. Rotted wood floors. Hundreds of candles illuminate the space. There’s a hole in the roof letting in the moonlight. Sparkling stars stretch in all directions.

Tears fill my eyes.

I don’t know where I am. None of this is familiar.

Pain radiates through my head, and I whimper. I reach for my temple, but my hand stays right where it is. Locked to my side.

I look down at my body. I’m tied to a pole but instead of binding my hands and feet, thick ropes are wrapped around me, beneath my breasts and around my ankles.

Nausea sweeps through me.

Oh god.

Then, panic, as I frantically try to remember what happened. The tasting room. Hassie. Please.

Please took me.

Breathe, Delilah. Breathe.

Think.

Get out.

I almost laugh aloud.

But I can. I’ve gotten out of worse situations. I can do this.

For Cole.

I need to be okay for him. Because if I’m not, it’ll destroy him.

Slowly, I inhale a deep breath. Then I tighten every one of my muscles and wrench my body against the ropes. A fresh wave of pain rips through me, and instantly, black spots dance in my vision.

The inside of my elbow stings, no doubt from the injections that got me here.

Eyes rolling, my head falls to my chest. I breathe evenly, fighting to hang on to consciousness. When it passes, I lift my head and twist my torso again.

The ropes are tight, but if I keep twisting, I could loosen them. I could get out.

I glance around the church. A ninety-degree angle is all I have, but I blanch at what I see. A bed with white sheets and black metal headboard is positioned at the altar like some twisted sacrifice. Pillar candles surround the perimeter of the church. A tarp beside the bed. A camera blinks its red light in the middle of the space.

This monster does this all the time. A kill scene for his sick, twisted movies.

I feel nauseous as I look around the space. How long has he been in town, planning this?