My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8) - Tillie Cole Page 0,82

were safe and that we had found redemption and solace in each other’s embrace. “Why, Maddie?” he croaked. “Why are you still here?”

When my eyes found his, I felt the panic subside and a growing sense of knowing in my heart. I knew this man. I knew the tenderness and fragility of his heart. I knew there was no other soul on earth who could love me like he did. And I knew there was no other who would love him like me. The answer left my mouth before I had even brought my thoughts to my mind. Kissing his fingers and cherishing his warmth, I whispered, “Because I have found the one whom my soul loves.” My favorite piece of scripture poured so naturally from my mouth.

Flame’s lips parted and he released a quick breath. His nostrils flared. I prayed that he understood what I meant, and the magnitude of the sentiment I was trying to convey. “Maddie…” he rasped so soft and quiet and tender I felt a fissure echo through my heart at its sound. He had to know it was true. He had to know that there was no other for me. If I did not have Flame, I could never love again. Our love was not typical and certainly not easy, but it was soul-deep and destined, written in heaven in stone.

“In The Order, our bibles were doctored,” I told him. Flame hung on to every word I said. “The passages and gospels were scrambled and misplaced. Much of The Word was hidden from us. If it did not suit Prophet David’s lustful ways or intent for his people, he simply discarded it.”

I closed my eyes and recalled the past few days. Lilah had always told me there was more to the Bible than we had been taught. That there was good and conviction. That certain phrases and books spoke directly to one’s soul. I still had not read it, until now. Until I realized that my husband’s father mirrored Prophet David in his treatment to his flock. Flame’s poppa had told his son that he was evil. He used the bible and snakes and his twisted faith to trick his vulnerable son into never doubting his word.

I kissed Flame’s hand. For the first time since he had woken up, I saw a glimmer of hope stir in his dark stare. “What I just said to you, it was from the Bible, baby,” I said, and kissed his wedding ring. “There is good in the Bible too. Just like there is good inside you. You are not evil. You are not condemned to hell. You are my heart. You are the reason why I breathe.” I placed my hand on my growing bump. I saw the panic quickly set in Flame’s expression—drawn eyebrows and fast erratic breathing. “Our baby is good, Flame. Our individual pasts may not have been, but our future will be.” I smiled, believing every single word I was saying. “And so will our child.”

Flame’s eyes squeezed shut. His head began to shake. “I saw Isaiah in the woods, Maddie. I was with my poppa and Pastor Hughes. They used snakes on me.” He choked back a sob. “Did you see them, Maddie? They hurt us. I thought Isaiah was good. But the snakes bit him too.”

I cupped his cheek. “Flame, Isaiah is gone. It was not him tied to the tree beside you. The men who tied you up… they were not your poppa or Pastor Hughes; they are dead too.” I combed my fingers through Flame’s black hair. It was soft after I had washed it, the longer strands falling over his forehead. It made him appear so young. He studied my face as I touched him. I saw only confusion in his expression. Flame was still lost. He was so, so lost. Flame clung on too tightly to his past. Even now, years later, he found it very difficult to let go of the people who shaped him, the people who brainwashed him to believe he was nothing.

I let my hand drift from his hair, down his neck, to his arms. My fingers were careful not to touch his knife wounds or snake-bitten skin. His arms began to twitch. I realized he was feeling the flames wake from their slumber. He hissed, confirming my assumption. The scars… the flames and the scars and his poppa’s wicked voice.

“Baby?” I queried, knowing Flame still watched me. I was blessed. For a