Page 210 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
Their empty rooms.
“Tempest! Raiden!” I forget we’re supposed to move in silence. I forget that I promised to be at his side.
I forget everything because the only thing I can see is my children’s vacant beds.
I rip open the closet. The panel to their safe room is dark, not activated, which means no one’s inside.
My knees threaten to buckle.
“Tempest! Raiden!” I scream again, voice shredded.
Still nothing. Storm’s hands land on my shoulders, pulling at me.
Breathe. Breathe, Shae.
My vision goes fuzzy; my chest seizes, unable to draw in air.
“Where are my babies!”
I scream. Storm moves in front of me, and I scream, and I scream.
A shadow moves behind Storm as his mouth moves, but no sound reaches me.
Watch out!
I try to yell, but it’s too late. Storm drops to the ground like a rock, and then I’m face-to-face with our assailant. An empty smile stretches across their face.
“No!” I screech.
Then everything goes black.
FORTY-SEVEN
STORM
Icome to when cold liquid splashes on my face, inhaling and choking as I try to wake up. The water temperature stuns me because it’s frigid in comparison to the dry heat engulfing my skin.
The last thing I remember is standing in front of Shae as she screams because….
“Tempest! Raiden!” I shout, but my voice is a rasp. “Shae!”
I crack my eyes open, blinking and trying to get a sense of my surroundings. I’m in the art barn. The pungent scent of propane burns my nostrils. The hiss tells me the valve has been deliberately cracked wide open. Someone wants a fire.
Moving my head to the left causes sharp pain to shoot from my neck, but that’s about as far as I can go anyway—I’m pinned to a chair with thick rope binding my chest, legs, and arms.
Sweat pours down my back, and I don’t have to turn all the way around to know the kiln is on. Seeing as I haven’t used it in years, the fact that it’s on is dangerous in itself.
I rock back and forth, trying to free myself, but all that happens is the chair makes a terrible sound against the concrete floors.
“Nephew, calm down.” Lakeland’s voice ignites all the rage I’ve been sitting on tonight.
Hell, not just tonight, for the last eight years. For my entire fucking life.
“If you’ve so much as touched a hair of any of their heads,” I start, taking shallow breaths against the constriction around my torso.
“You’ll what, Storm? Beat me up?” Lakeland comes into view, walking slowly in a pristine all-black outfit. He’s gone gray since I last saw him, his beard and hair streaked with silver.
“Nah, I’mma fuckin’ kill you,” I grate out.
