Page 28 of Corpse Roads

We don't use that word here, Christie.

Lay still or I’ll slice your throat instead.

There’s a good girl.

My mind is filled with the visual of Pastor Michaels pinning Christie’s naked body to the floor of her cage. He carved the holy marks into her stomach while she sobbed uncontrollably.

I’d forgotten the sheer intensity of her wailing. She was younger than the others, less able to handle the torture. Her screams overwhelm me as I sink against the stairwell’s wall.

“Shit!” Enzo swears, his hands landing on my shoulders. “Come on, Harlow. Stay with me.”

I shove his hands away with a silent cry, unable to cope with the feel of someone touching me.

“What’s happening?” Hunter barks.

“What does it look like, idiot?”

“Sort her out. We have a situation downstairs.”

Hunter’s words ignite something within me. The flare of anger catches alight and burns through my mind. Seizing the powerful emotion, I use it to pull myself out of the darkness.

Sweet, glorious air enters my lungs as I fight to retake control. When I manage to open my eyes, Hunter’s watching me with mild astonishment.

“She can sort herself out,” I reply shakily.

“So I can see.”

It’s my turn to be astonished as Hunter offers me a hand. Enzo watches us, open-mouthed. As I’m pulled up, my tightly wrapped ribs burn with pain. I bite down on my tongue to hold it in.

“What’s the situation?” Enzo speaks up.

Hunter offers him a grim look. “The press are camped outside. They’ve caught wind of something and reckon we’ve found another body. They’re fishing for an update.”

“Goddammit. We can’t let them see her.”

“Why?” I ask cluelessly.

“The last thing we need is your face plastered all over the news when we’re trying to keep you safe.” Hunter runs a hand over his man bun. “Enzo, I need you to field questions. Tell them nothing.”

He nods. “Get Harlow past while they’re not looking. I’ll meet you in the garage when the coast is clear.”

Sparing me a final look, Enzo jogs ahead down the staircase. We follow behind him at a much slower pace. Hugging my broken arm to my chest, I feel a bit lost without his hand in mine.

“What happens if they see me?”

Hunter shrugs off his suit jacket at the bottom of the stairs. “The people we’re keeping you from will know exactly where you are.”

Short of breath, I press the still-sore wound where Pastor Michaels ripped the nail out. The burst of pain is immediate, slicing through my fear like a flash of lightning.

From outside, I can hear the greedy roar of voices. Shouting, heckling, demanding attention. The odd flash of light accompanies the chaos, even as Enzo’s voice booms over them all.

“Put this over your head.” Hunter pulls his jacket over me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Hold on to me and don’t let go.”

Fisting my hand in his pressed shirt, I shut my eyes, letting him guide me. Warmth radiates from Hunter’s skin, seeping through the material of his shirt. It feels weirdly intimate to cling to it.

He smells peppery, like spices and exotic adventures. Pastor Michaels only ever smelled like blood. I want to bathe in this new, exciting scent. Let it wash over me, washing all the bad stuff away.

“You smell really good,” I blurt without thinking.

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