Page 107 of Wicked Salvation
“You’re insane,” I choke. “This isn’t faith. This is murder.”
“It’s devotion,” he snarls. “I bled for you. Bound myself to you. You think you can walk away from that? You think throwing away my ring can break a holy bond?”
He reaches beneath the altar and pulls out a blade—thin, ceremonial, curved like a sickle. It gleams in the candlelight.
“I didn’t lose you,” he says, voice shaking with something I’ve only ever heard when he’s forced his cock inside me, some sort of ecstasy. “I sanctified you.”
He places the tip of the blade against my sternum.
“And now, I’m going to make sure no one else ever touches what belongs to me.”
The scream rips from before I can control it.
I’m not scared.
I’m angry.
So so angry.
Because Silas isn’t god.
He’s not my fate, and I refuse to die for him.
The hundreds of hours I spent in church, my prayers, everything. None of it mattered. The only thing that matters is the here and the now. Now, all I have is myself.The tip of the blade bites into my chest, but it’s enough to ignite something deep inside me.
Not fear.
No, a heat I’ve never felt before.
I twist—violently.My wrist sears as the strap cuts into skin, but I feel it give. Just slightly, just enough. Silas frowns, caught off-guard by my resistance. He’s never seen this side of me before.
“Don’t—” he starts.
But I do.
I fucking do.
I’ll never listen to him again.
I whip my head up, slamming my forehead into his nose. There’s a crunch, a yell—he staggers backward, clutching his face, the blade slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. Blood gushes from his nose.
I don’t wait.
I yank my right arm again, hard enough that the strap splits—but so does my skin. Pain screams through me, but I’m used to my arms hurting. Even then, it’s a different kind of feeling.
It’s freedom.
The second my hand is loose, I reach across, clawing at the other strap. My fingers are slick with my blood, but I manage to untie my left wrist, then the chest strap. My legs are harder—they’re buckled tightly and soaked with what smells like pee. That must have happened when he knocked me out.
But I fight.
Silas roars behind me.
“You ungrateful little bitch?—”
I roll off the altar just as he lunges.
I hit the floor, landing so hard my pain sparks through my spine. My right arm is shredded and burning from the straps, the blood pouring fast, and I’m seeing doubles.
