Page 149 of Deacon

He runs a hand over his face, rubbing his temples. “I didn’t want this to happen. I told Aiden to just let you stay put, but he’s angry.”

“I know,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “No, Frey, he’s really fucking angry. I’ve never seen him like this. He doesn’t sleep. It’s not like before.”

My stomach sinks. I’ve seen Aiden so angry, it made me hole up in my room for two days, but I can tell by Bittern’s face that this is different.

I reach out and grip his forearm. Beneath my palm, there’s a scar—white, twisted in a circle, like he got it caught in something and tore it out.

I never asked where he got that. I always assumed it was from the mine.

“Bittern,” I whisper, “I need you to get me out of here.”

His throat bobs. He’s pale, like he’s cold, but sweat drips down his temple. “I don’t know what I can do,” he says. “I’ve never been a match for Aiden.”

“Bittern—”

“Frey, listen, I—”

Desperate, I yank his arm so he has to look me in the eyes.

“Bittern, I think I’m pregnant,” I whisper, fear cracking my voice. “I need to get back to Deacon.”

He goes still, only his eyes darting down to my waistline. Suddenly, we’re not in this tiny room with the world falling apart around us. We’re right back home, tucked in the Appalachian Mountains. The porch steps, worn by generations of Aiden’s family before us, are warm from the sun on our bare feet.

Back then, we were delusional enough to think we had a say over our futures. I was young, but I remember Bittern saying he’d like to meet somebody and have a family one day. This was all before the mines, before his light went out.

He clears his throat.

“You sure?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. There’s a good chance.”

His brows rise. “And it’s Deacon’s?”

I laugh, although I’m not sure why. “Yeah, of course it is.”

He shrugs, a little smile creeping over his mouth. “Didn’t think it’d be you having babies before me,” he says finally. “I’m happy for you, Frey, but I don’t know what I can do to get you out.”

My mouth is so dry, my lip keeps splitting. I wet it, tasting metal. My fingers trail up and come away bloody. Did I hit my face on the table when Aiden tore me from the bed? Bittern digs in his pocket, brings up a handkerchief, and hands it over.

“Can you get to Deacon?” I whisper. “Maybe tell him where I’m at?”

His jaw works. He wipes his face again.

“I can try,” he says. “Aiden’s watching me. I think he’s been watching me since I hit him the night he smashed your bugs up. But it isn’t about that. There’s other stuff stopping me.”

His voice cracks, as if he might cry. I tighten my grip on his arm, and he looks away.

“Bittern,” I ask. “What’s he doing?”

To my shock, he sniffs. “I’m all fucked up, Frey. I never talked to you about it, but when the collapse happened, it just fucked me up.”

My heart pumps, making my breath come shallow. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t just… Look, I was down there for six and a half days. Wayland, he was with me but separated by the rocks. I heard him calling out, heard him dying. I never told Aiden this. He doesn’t need to hear it. But I sat there, in this little area, about five by five, where the rocks missed me. It was hell. We dug down to hell, and it’s not very far, just below the surface.”

My stomach turns, and sickness passes over me in a wave.

---