Page 78 of Searching for Hope

“Now!” Jericho yells. When I don’t act quickly enough, he tears himself away from Hope, grabbing a pipe from under the sink and wrenching it free. He uses it as a baton until the faucet breaks loose and he’s able to slide the cuff off. Reaching into the bath, he scoops Hope into his arms. She bends her head into his chest, her body trembling.

He whispers to her as he pushes past me. “Let’s get you home.”

I watch, not knowing what to do as Jericho storms from the room with Hope held tightly in his arms. She doesn’t look at anyone. She keeps her head pressed tight to his chest. As Jericho passes by Barrett, he gives him a single nod of his head.

“Clean up the mess,” he says.

Barrett moves quickly and silently. It all happens so suddenly, so normally, it seems more like a dream than reality. One moment Barrett is standing with the rifle trained on Keating, and the next, he’s behind Keating, twisting one of his arms behind his back while he forces a knife into the other, wrapping Keating’s fingers around it securely. Keating only has time to slightly widen his eyes before Barrett guides his hand, slicing the knife across his neck. Barrett steps away as the body slumps to the floor, blood beginning to soak into the carpet.

Keating’s gaze locks with mine as the blood seeps. His blue eyes plead with me. Mary screams and lurches toward the body of her husband, but Barrett holds her back. Something changes in Keating’s eyes and I witness the moment his life drains away.

“Time for you to leave, Miss Berkley,” Barrett says, struggling to hold the hysterical woman still. I lift my eyes from the dead body.

“Don’t go. Don’t let him hurt me,” Mary yells as Barrett tightens his grip. Her tears follow the tracks of her scars.

“It’s time to leave, Miss Berkley,” Barrett says again, his voice cold and distant.

My gaze darts between the terrified woman and her husband lying in a pool of his own blood. His face is tilted toward me. His skin is pale. His eyes are empty. But there’s still an expression of shock on his face, as though he can’t quite believe what just happened.

“What are you going to do?” My voice trembles. It feels tight as it escapes my throat. Painful.

“I’ll meet you in the car,” is all he says.

Mary continues to cry and wrestle against Barrett. He holds her secure with a single arm as she reaches for me. “Don’t leave me with him. I’m begging you. Please don’t—”

Barrett remains calm. “Go to the car, Miss Berkley. Jericho will want to know you’re okay.”

I stumble out of the room and down the stairs in a daze. I don’t know how I even make it to the car, but I find myself slumped in the front passenger’s seat. Jericho sits in the back, Hope still held tight in his arms. He’s whispering to her, smoothing the hair back from her face, pressing light kisses to her skin.

I slam the door shut. I don’t want to listen for sounds coming from the house. I don’t want to know what Barrett is doing.

The seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Jericho’s hushed words and Hope’s muffled whimpers are the only sounds in the car. And then it echoes, a single shot destroying the eerie silence of the night.

Nausea lurches in my gut. My skin prickles with cold sweat. I take a deep breath, holding it in and counting the seconds before letting it out slowly but it doesn’t make a difference. The flash overwhelms me with its intensity, and I double over in pain as my stomach cramps.

Leather licks my skin, but I’m numb. The pain doesn’t register anymore. The sound of the whip is loud as it whistles through the air, but I don’t brace myself for impact. My body is too exhausted. I’m slumped over the bed. My hands are fisted in the sheets, but I don’t feel the material between my fingers. I don’t feel anything.

Barrett’s door opens. He lowers himself into the seat and pulls the seatbelt over his shoulder. He tugs off his gloves before placing his hands on the steering wheel and drawing in a deep breath.

“What did you do?” I whisper, my breath ragged from the vision.

Barrett darts his eyes my way before looking into the rear vision mirror and nodding at Jericho. There’s something so final about the interaction, something morbid that makes an uneasy feeling twist at the base of my spine.

“Take us home,” Jericho says, returning his gaze to Hope cradled in his arms.

And just like that, it is over.

Hope has been found.

Revenge has been exacted.

So why do I feel like the nightmare has only just begun?

Keep reading for a sneak peek of Part Three of the Black Swan Trilogy, Among the Sins of my Father.

note to the reader

Thank you so much for reading Searching for Hope.

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