Page 75 of Deacon

“Bittern—”

“They got all fucked up by Deacon Ryder,” he says, voice low. “You go on and get out of here, Frey. Go on, run to Tracy’s house.”

With my free hand, I pull my dressing gown around my body. “I can’t run to Tracy’s. It’s ten miles through the fields. It’s dark.”

He drags his gaze up. It’s haunted by whatever was burned into his head in the mines. It’s times like this when I wonder if they dug right down into hell and he looked the devil himself in the eyes.

“Don’t stay,” he says. “They’re gonna get fucked up. Aiden’s angry, and he’ll take it out on you. Go to Tracy’s. Take my truck.”

“I can barely drive,” I whisper.

He reaches out and grabs my arm clumsily, looking me earnestly in the eyes. “I seen things, Frey, when they get angry. You take my truck and drive to Tracy’s tonight, and I’ll call you when it’s safe to come home.”

My mouth is dust dry. I wonder what he’s seen Aiden do.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He takes his keys out, pulls the one for his truck off the ring, and puts it in my hand. I close my fingers around it.

“Will you be okay?” I ask.

He nods. “I’m fine. I know how to fight.”

That’s not true. Bittern doesn’t hit back—he just takes it. Without another word, he turns on his heel and goes into the house. The lock clicks, and I’m standing in the darkness, my feet bare. I have a bra and panties on, but nothing over it except my slip and thin dressing gown.

I wrap my arms around myself, and my fingers graze something hard at my hip.

My phone—it’s in my pocket.

Something smashes inside the house. I whirl and run down the stairs, across the frosty lawn in my bare feet. I don’t go to Bittern’s truck—I run down the strip of grass between the fence and the driveway all the way to the road, to the little rise over the mailbox where my flip phone has signal.

My hands shake. I go to Deacon’s number—the one he must have put in there before he gave it to me, but I’ve never used before—and hit the call button. My heart thumps, off beat.

Please pick up.

Please.

My silent prayer pounds in my veins like a drum. The phone crackles. I think it goes dead for a second, but then I hear him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he rumbles.

“Deacon,” I gasp, hot tears erupting. “Please come get me. Aiden’s all messed up. Bittern told me to run because I wasn’t safe at home. Please come get me. I don’t even have shoes.”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m already on my way.”

There’s something calming in the way he says it, like there was never any world where he wasn’t coming for me. I hiccup, taking a deep breath. Overhead, the stars hang heavy and bright white. It’s chilly, but I’m so scared, I barely feel it.

“How—how far are you?” I whisper.

“About a mile out,” he says. “You stay on the line. You just keep talking to me, okay?”

I gulp hard, wiping my face. “Okay, I’m fine. I’m just scared. Bittern dragged me out of the house, said it wasn’t safe. Aiden’s so angry. Bittern said you beat him up.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he rasps. “I got on the road as soon as I put two and two together.”

“Why’d you beat him up?” I whisper.

He gives a short laugh. “Because I’m a fucking asshole.”

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