Page 40 of Cast Stones
I’ll never get the sound of her screams out of my head. The pleas to God that fell on deaf ears. The cries of my name as, one by one, the twelve men brutally took her while the entire congregation watched and cheered.
I grip the wooden pew and sink my teeth into my tongue to stifle my curses, swallowing the blood as it pools in my mouth. I pretend it’s their blood on my tongue. I calm the beast inside me gnashing its teeth at its cage by imagining the pew is their necks, my hands crushing their throats and ending their reign.
Soon, I tell myself. And then no one will ever touch her again.
When it’s over, a rush of Disciple followers flees to the field behind the church in preparation of the final part of the ritual—the sacrifice. The cult’s newly “saved” whore, presented to Him in death to be reborn.
But I’m not one of them.
As promised, I’ve returned to our cabin to wait. To prepare. To kill.
They’ll never see it coming. No one has ever dared question a member of the Twelve, much less threaten one. My mutiny will blindside whoever delivers my Madi to me.
I stand waiting by the door. My hand is steady, the steel tucked inside it comforting. For the first time in twenty years, I feel powerful.
Justified.
This is God’s will. Everything I’ve been taught has been a lie. Everything I’ve seen has been sin, and everything I’ve heard has been blasphemy.
I was born to save Madi. And if my blood spills, then it spills for her.
The door creaks open, and I widen my stance. A bare, bloody foot is the first thing I see, and I force myself not to react as Madi steps timidly inside the room, her ceremonial white gown stained in angry splotches of blood.
Her blood.
Fury thrums through my veins, but I grit my teeth and remain quiet. Soon, her long, flowing hair follows as I watch her eyes dart around the room. She’s looking for me.
I’m here, cara mia.
“Where are you, boy?” Hal, one of my father’s parishioners, follows her inside, his heavy boots and dirty jeans a stark contrast to Madi’s delicate feet. “The Reverend wants it ready and outside the church in fifteen minutes.”
It… She’s not even Mary to them anymore. She’s a thing. A broken toy to be destroyed.
Ten seconds, I remind myself. Wait ten seconds until he’s fully inside and then strike. But before my count gets to four, Madi turns around, gripping the torn shreds of her gown. Her breasts are exposed, and from my corner position, I see the change in Hal’s rigid, soldier-like posture. I see the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
I see his hand cup the crotch of his jeans.
Oh fuck.
“Your fate is sealed, whore,” he intones, stepping toward her. “Might as well meet God with my seed inside your filthy body too.”
Ten seconds. That was the plan.
But the plan never included another man touching Madi in our cabin, a sacred place he wants to defile with his cock.
I don’t think; I raise the knife and lunge, plunging it deep into his shoulder blade. “Mine!” Drawing the blade back out, I aim for his chest, when he grabs my wrist, stopping the fatal blow.
“Luca!” Madi screams, backing away, her hands cupping her mouth.
“Heathen!” Hal roars. I fight his hold, but he’s bigger and stronger. “The Reverend knows of your lustful sins! You’ll burn in hell for all of this…” His nostrils flare as he twists my arm and drives my own blade deep into my stomach.
“No!” Madi’s screams echo through my head like a record skipping at the same fatal beat. I watch her take one step forward, and I know if she takes another, we’ll both die here on this dirty cabin floor in the woods.
“Run, Madi,” I command roughly. “Run while you can!” My words provide the distraction I need. As Hal turns to grab her, I pull out the blade lodged in my gut and sink it into his back again. This time, my aim is better. I can almost hear his lung deflating like a leaky balloon.
That should have been enough.
But my bloodlust demands more, and I draw my knife to claim my fatal blow to his heart when my nose catches his fist. The punch knocks me off balance, staggering me into the door and sending the knife clattering to the floor.
