Page 100 of Deacon

A leaf blows over my face, and I catch it in my fingers. It feels heavier than usual, so I turn it over. Inside is a silk cocoon. I know buried in the soft depths is a little insect, waiting for the spring to come. The wind picks up again, and I step out into the yard and lift the leaf.

The next gust takes it. It tugs that little life into the sky, and I hope with everything I have that it goes to a better place.

Inside, the house glows gold. The voices in the dining room remind me I have to face them. Nobody is going to drop from the sky and save me.

There’s just harsh reality.

And a future I can’t differentiate from my past.

Heavy as lead, I drag myself into the house. The men are up and heading to the front porch to smoke. Head down, I clean the table and wipe everything down. The dishwasher is humming and everything smells of cleaner when I’m finished. I hang up my apron and go upstairs.

My room is so quiet. I slip my boots off and turn on the little light over my desk.

My collection glitters. The natural jewelry of the wings and shells gleams. My heart hurts less as I sink down on my chair and lift the lids.

I don’t touch anything. It’s not preserved correctly since I don’t have the money for the right materials, so the little wings and legs are so fragile. One wrong move, and they’ll be dust.

Boots sound on the stairs below me. They’re moving fast, like they know where they’re going.

My heart patters on my tongue.

They come down the hall. By the long stride with the slight hitch, I know they belong to Aiden. He walks like Deacon, but somehow, not like Deacon at all. Maybe because I’m not scared when I hear Deacon’s boots ring out on the floor.

I have a half second to jump to my feet and turn before the door is shoved open.

He’s not drunk, but he’s not sober. In the shadows, his face is so harsh. His eyes are shadowed, but there’s a glitter to them that makes me want to curl up and cover my head.

“You fucking liar,” he drawls.

I take a step back. Aiden has never hit me, not really. He’ll clip my ear, throw things past me, hit the wall behind my head. He’s never beat me, but I’d be shocked if he never put his hands on his wives.

I’m not so sure he won’t now.

“I—don’t know what you mean?” I stammer.

He strides closer. I back up against the chair.

“You went to Ryder Ranch,” he says. “You traitor. You little fucking whore.”

The fear tastes sharp in the back of my throat, but worse is having him here, in my sanctuary. He’s big, everything I’ve spent my life trying to shut out, yet here he is, angry and frightening in my doorway. I can’t even run because he’s blocking my only exit.

“I didn’t,” I whisper.

A muscle in his jaw ripples.

“Elijah saw you,” he says. “His property is right up by the Ryder Ranch property line.”

“I was just walking.” I can barely get the words out.

He surges forward, bending over me. The back of the chair cuts into the center of my spine.

“On his horse? On Deacon Ryder’s fucking horse, with him? You were just walking, huh?”

Those words put the nails right in my coffin. I put my palm up, trying to push him back. His hand comes up, shoving me so hard, I fall to the ground with a hard thump. My elbow takes the brunt of the fall. Shocked, I roll to my side, and Aiden towers over me.

“You fucking whore,” he seethes. “You’re just like her, nothing but a drain on me and my money. You don’t do anything but fuck around with these…all this shit.”

I see his arm rise. The entire world slows.

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