Page 18 of Saving Her

“Get back in bed,” Abigail hisses.

I could.

I should.

But the thunder is too close. If Luther opens the bedroom door, I’ll be caught scampering away.

I’d prefer to have him find me standing here—strong and sure—than see my weakness for a second time today.

Then the door is flung open and my heart squeezes.

I stiffen, facing the devil head on, his face partially shadowed, the light from the hall beaming down behind him.

He doesn’t show surprise over my snooping. He doesn’t express annoyance or delight either—just a stony mask of determination while Tobias stands like an exhausted angel by his side.

“You’re coming with me.” Luther lunges forward and grabs my wrist. “Chloe, you need to join us, too.”

He doesn’t wait for her to comply. He drags me into the hall, making me stumble as I cling tight to my refusal to show fear.

Gasps and whispers erupt from my bedroom as I’m taken from my sisters. I’m tugged toward the front of the house and into the living room with Tobias dragging his feet behind us.

Questions clog my throat. The need for answers is brutal. But I won’t voice my weakness. I have to stay strong this time.

Chris stands at the far edge of one of the cream leather sofas, his expression tight, while one of the silent armed guards disappears through the doorway across the other side of the room, apparently satisfied Luther can handle the situation on his own.

It’s safe to assume this is the start of my punishment, and the situation is made all the worse when Chloe inches into the room, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders, her skin pale.

Those sad eyes make me fragile. The tremble in her hands and lower lip are another battle I have to win in an effort to remain strong.

But the surprising thing is, both my tormentors aren’t in their usual mocking, sadistic mood. Usually, I’m disciplined out of delight.

Tonight is different.

Luther and Chris appear frustrated, their hard eyes and tight features exuding anger.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise in foreboding. My fingers and toes tingle with anticipation of the unknown. This show of animosity can’t be due to my outburst today. It can’t. I’ve never seen these men so venomous toward me.

“Sit,” Luther barks.

I comply, sinking into the cream leather, my hands in my lap, my fingers playing with the sheer material of my nightgown. Chloe takes her place on my left, her breathing shallow and ragged.

Luther moves to stand before us and indicates for Tobias to sit on the other side of Chloe. “You need to do something for me.”

I hold my breath, unsure if he’s talking to us as a collective or the boy on his own.

Having Tobias here must be another punishing strategy.

I knew this day would come—the moment when the child I helped raise would be used as a weapon against me. I’d known and still I hadn’t been able to distance myself from caring for him.

“You made a mistake today,” Luther growls at me. “A big one.”

My pulse pounds everywhere. In my throat. My ears. My wrists. No place more painful than my chest.

“I’m sorry.” The apology fumbles from my numb lips. “I lost myself. I promise I’ll never do it again.”

I promise to never, ever let hope blind me.

“I can make this right.” I meet his gaze. “You know I can.”

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