Page 65 of Debt of My Soul

There’s no mistaking this as anything but forced. They aren’t even trying to fool the priest which means they must have something on him.

“I-I’m Father Michael,” he says. “I’ll be performing the vows and witnessing the marriage. I have the marriage certificate for you to fill out afterward.”

As Father Michael speaks, he looks toward the gun, terror gripping his expression the entire time he’s speaking with us. I’m sure the vows he took are not being upheld at this moment.

“P-please repeat after me,” the priest says, and he gives me my first line.

The ceiling starts to collapse. At least that’s how it feels. Crushing and suffocating. I’m going to lose it.

“I, Fleur J-J-Jacobs—” The words get caught in my throat, and I fist my shaking hands at my sides. The priest gulps when the gun is raised toward me, and in my peripheral, Liam flinches.

“Say it!” Blitz demands.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth to try again. “I F-F-Fleur?—”

A hand grazes mine and I glance down to my right to see Liam’s closed fist brush mine. He’s no longer touching me, but that brief contact—I look up to catch the pleading in his expression. It’s fleeting but revealing.

The realization that Liam’s actions, however twisted and strange, are all to save my life, gives me the resolve to clear my throat and steel my spine. And finally, I repeat the priest’s words without fail.

We aren’t turned to look at each other. We only stare at Father Michael in front of us, and I do my best to zone out this painful moment. The irony I waited for so long to be married to the love of my life, and now in a matter of days I’m marrying a stranger whom I don’t even like isn’t lost on me.

When I say “I do” I almost laugh, but tears find their way instead.

Liam and I move to sign the documents needed and when I hear the click of the gun being returned to one of the men’s hostler, I breathe a little easier. That is until Blitz opens his mouth.

“Well, Liam, never thought I’d see the day when you’d claim a woman. Never had the balls to bring any around here. Too afraid we’d steal her away.” He chuckles and Liam purses his lips and crosses his arms in front of himself, creating a barrier.

“We done here?” Liam asks. His voice is different from when he spoke with me. It’s cold and unfeeling.

“For now. Don’t forget tonight,” Blitz says, a hunger in his eyes brings a shiver up my spine.

What’s tonight?

Liam nods once and roughly grabs my elbow, yanking me toward the door with him. The men behind us laugh and snicker. When I turn back to glare at them, the priest wipes a single tear from his cheek, an expression of remorse and worry mirroring my own.

Liam drops my elbow as soon as we exit the clubhouse like my arm is blazing hot and he’s burned himself.

I blink away my fuzzy vision, the intense sunshine glaring off the rows of motorcycles lined up in the gravel parking nearly blinding me. Having to run to catch up to Liam, I fall into step behind him, unsure of his direction but my lifeline anyway. There are zero people here I trust, but maybe I distrust Liam a little less.

“Let’s go,” he barks at me. Slowing down by a vehicle covered with a canvas cover, he whips it back, exposing an older Ford F-250. It’s a mix of candy apple red and burgundy and it’s in perfect condition. I trace the silver mirror jutting from the side, appreciating the truck.

Liam must notice because he grunts out, “It’s from 1980. My grandfather gave it to me, but I prefer the bike.”

I can’t help myself and snort. He narrows his eyes at me, his expression unreadable. “I mean … why the bike? This is gorgeous.”

“Just get in.”

“Why?” I ask. Liam’s jaw ticks at my second question in seconds, and he hardens his face while ignoring me. I roll my eyes and move to the passenger side. My dad would love this. As soon as the thought enters my head, it wipes the smile off my face and replaces the minor excitement I have with the feelings from minutes ago in front of the priest.

My parents. They’re most likely worried sick. Gosh, they’ve probably been calling and calling the phone I don’t have anymore. Have they reached out to local police? I’m sure if they do, they’ll learn of the farmhouse fire and panic. Will they try to come down here?

I pull at the rubber bands hugging my wrist, twisting and pulling them while I sit in the seat, waiting for Liam to get in. Yanking them back as far as they will stretch, I let the sting ground me and center my thoughts. I still feel.One thing at a time, Fleur. One thing at a time.

With another pull upward, I’m ready to let the two bands snap again when the door opens. The creak is loud as if a sheep groaned in a question. I jump and release the rubber bands, covering my wrist, my fingertips scratching the newly formed welts.

Liam stares at my attempt to cover my hands and his gaze drops to where I grip my wrist in my lap. He climbs into the truck, starts it, and pulls down what I assume is the main entrance. We drive through an electronic gate that hums as we drive past. The gravel gives way to the khaki dirt, and the truck shakes over the tiny pebbles beneath the tires.

We must drive a good mile or so before I realize how far out here we are. No other houses or buildings have caught myattention and the sinking feeling deepens. No one is going to be looking for me out here.

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