Page 101 of Beautifully Wounded

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Abbey recites the wifely duties like she’s been forced to memorise them, and I have no doubt her mother made her do exactly that.

“Eyes on mine,” I demand, needing her full attention, and as usual, she obeys, her gaze locking with mine. “You know the Scripture is wrong, don’t you? You know no one has the right to indulge in your body in any way you don’t agree to and want, right?”

She nods, tears welling in her eyes. “I know. I really do know that, but I had no choice. I was trapped. I… I—”

“You don’t need to explain, Angel. You did nothing wrong. That so-called church is a cult. They are nothing more than a group of sick fucks brainwashing people to benefit them. They lie, steal, cheat their way into communities, and it’s too late when authorities realise what’s happening. The damage is done. They’ve already got their claws into people that are weak and vulnerable and fucking gullible. They take their money and force their beliefs on their congregation, using them until they get revealed and quickly disappear, only to pop up on the other side of the country as a new religious faction and do it all over again to a new community.”

“How do you know that?” she asks, her gaze now wide with interest.

“The Southern Sadists’ mission isn’t in taking down the cults popping up everywhere, but we help those that make it their mission to try to catch these sick fuckers. I actually thought the one your family has been involved in was already handled, butobviously not if they are still spreading their teachings in the Timber Valley district.”

“Can they go on the list too?”

Her words are so quiet, I almost miss them.

Almost.

A sinister smirk spreads my lips wider, and I give her a nod.

“Yes, Angel. Even if you ask me not to go after them, I will deny you. Death is coming for that cult. Once and for fucking all.”

Slowly, Abbey’s spine straightens. Her eyes appear almost stormy as she takes me in for a long moment before she finally speaks.

“You asked me earlier what I was thinking about that made me blush.”

As her fingers start to fidget together on her lap again, I watch as said blush fucking returns and I almost can’t believe she’s broaching this subject.

“I did. Are you finally going to tell me?”

She nods, taking a moment to mull over her words before she speaks.

“Promise me something first,” she demands, although it carries no fire.

“What am I promising?”

“Not to laugh at me.”

My hairline lifts as my brows do, not at all thinking she was going to say that.

“Why the fuck would I laugh at you?”

She shrugs. “You just might find what I’m about to tell you… funny.”

Using my index finger, I draw a cross over my heart. “I cross my heart and hope to die.” I recite the words we used as kids.

She grinsbashfully, taking a moment to study those damn hands of hers again while I wait impatiently.

Then finally she speaks.

“You asked me to go to you.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Come here, is what you mouthed.”

“I remember,” I admit, and again she shrugs.

Is that her tell? A nervous shrug?

“Well, you did the same thing the night before… you know.”

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