I was scared shitless.
More scared than I’d ever been in my life, including when I’d waited hours to hear if my sister Quinn was going to pull through surgery after she’d been shot.
That probably made me the worst sister in the entire world but I knew, knew this was not going to end well for me.
I’d been stripped of my clothes. I fought this. I’d cried and begged as the two men who’d dragged me into the sanctuary held my arms and a third man was holding my feet, preventing me from kicking, while a woman—a goddamned woman—stood in front of me and cut my clothes away.
She would not meet my eyes, she didn’t look at the men, she didn’t utter a word as I pleaded with her to help me. I begged her not to take my clothes. Fucking begged with tears in my eyes and she didn’t look at me.
But others did.
There wasn’t any available seats on even one of those pews in front of me. Men, women, children, all dressed in white, sat and stared.
None helped.
Not a single one made a move to protect my clothes from being stripped away.
“We’ve come together to cleanse,” Bishop announced. “And give thanks the Heathen has been delivered.”
“Please,” I whispered. The man to my right wrenched my arm back until my shoulder popped and I shouted in pain.
“The demons within her are strong. They must be cast out.”
“Don’t do this. Please, this is wrong.” My left arm was twisted and pain shot from my shoulder blade down my spine.
My vision started to swim and I willed myself not to pass out.
The woman gathered my blouse, skirt, and heels and disappeared from my sight. My bra and panties weren’t much but they were something.
“Temptation comes in all forms,” Bishop continued, and a chill pierced my heart. “Come and test your faith.”
“No!” I shouted when the men in the congregation stood. “No!”
I struggled until one leg broke free from the man holding my ankles and I kicked as hard as I could.
“Heathen, be still,” the man snarled and punched my back, making me cry out in agony.
My ankles were recaptured and I whimpered when my arms were tweaked.
The first man approached. He took a knife from his pocket and carefully lifted his blade, placing it under the material in front of my bra. He paused, then removed his blade without slicing the silk.
Thank God.
Thank you, God.
One by one the men approached, pulled their knives, and repeated what the first man had done.
I didn’t struggle.
I didn’t dare move a muscle.
It wasn’t until the eleventh man approached, his eyes glistening with disgust and something that looked like lust, that my bra got sliced open.
“Temptation,” the man roared and slapped me across the face.
It took several long moments for the shock and pain of the slap to wear off.
And when it did, I could no longer keep my tears from falling.
This was worse, so much worse than books being ruined.
I was so stupid.
I should’ve listened to Simon when he told me I needed to take the threats seriously. I should’ve listened to Brady when he wanted to involve Triple Canopy. I should’ve calmed down and called Ethan before I followed that car.
I should’ve done a lot of things.
But I didn’t.
Now I was standing mostly nude in front of a line of men.
This was worse than bad.
“Please,” I begged again when the next man stepped up. “Please help me.”
“I am faithful,” he spat. “I do not give into the temptation of flesh. A whore’s lure is the devil’s work.”
Ho-ly shit.
Holy shit.
It wouldn’t be until the last man came before me with the same look in his eyes as the man who’d opened my bra that I would speak.
“I’m dirty,” I told him when his knife went to my hip and slid into my panties. “Please, stay faithful.”
His eyes snapped to mine. I saw the muscle in his jaw tick and I pleaded some more.
“Don’t give in to temptation. I’m dirty. I’m a whore.”
His eyes sparked and I gave up begging him not to cut my panties and instead started praying.
34
The smell of pine and freshly cut wood filled my nostrils as I made way through the thick forest known as Hoppers’ Woods. It was a twenty-five-acre parcel of land at the end of Millers Road.
Dylan had found the land was owned by a church that called themselves, Faithful. No website, no phone number listed, no social media presence.
Nothing.
Nada.
Which meant the church was not a church but a