Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen Book 4) (18 page)

Rider’s hips rocked into me gently in the aftermath. He gasped in short, strained breaths, then calmed as we grew still. Both in shock at what had just transpired . . . at the indescribable feeling of grace I knew we both had just shared.

“Harmony,” Rider whispered again, my name like a prayer spilling from his soul. He leaned down and kissed me. He joined our mouths just as surely as our souls were now joined too.

When we parted, the crowd outside began to cheer, puncturing the cocoon of warmth and light we had momentarily been in. It was like a cold douse of water being poured over our heads, bringing us back to where we were.

“We need to go,” Rider said, sadly. And I knew that, like me, he was wishing we could freeze time, eradicate the unwanted audience and stay right here. Keeping our hearts brimming with this much contentment.

“I know,” I said reluctantly, sighing as he removed himself from within me. It was strange. When Rider left my body, I felt like I had lost a piece of my soul too.

Rider slipped on his pants and stood from the bed. I watched as he gathered his composure, then turned to me. I took his outstretched hand and followed him out of the enclosed bed. Rider squeezed my hand in his as we walked outside, my naked body immediately on display. He shielded me as much as possible, before snapping his fingers at a nearby guard to give me my garment. I slipped the dress on quickly and waited for what came next.

My face flushed with embarrassment as Brother Luke walked to the bed and came back holding the soiled sheets up for the crowd to see. The people cheered and held up their hands for their prophet.

The prophecy was complete. I could feel the pulsing waves of their joy.

Rider held up his hands, looking every inch the prophet of The Order. The crowd quieted. “The four days of solitude for me and my new wife will now commence. Take this time to reflect on your sins and pray for our souls to be saved.” The people jumped to their feet in celebration. “Your celebrations will commence in the west hall. Go and celebrate your salvation and embrace in the love that your Lord has sent to his chosen people!”

I heard the rush of the crowd as they dispersed to begin the celebrations. Rider turned to Brother Luke. “I am going to take the Cursed to the house of solitude. No one is to disturb us until the four days are complete, am I understood?”

“Yes, Prophet. I have everything covered here. You enjoy purifying your new bride.”

Rider took my hand in his and dragged me in the opposite direction to the crowd. I kept my eyes downcast, trying my best to keep up with Rider’s fast steps. The soft grass quickly gave way to a path, and risking a glance up, I saw the bridal house of solitude up ahead.

But when we arrived at the house, Rider did not lead me inside as I expected. Instead he ran past the entrance and headed for the surrounding forest. I frowned in confusion as the ground beneath us turned to rough, dry soil and twigs. Several of the broken branches sliced at the bare parts of my feet through the strappy sandals, but Rider kept pulling us deeper and deeper into the forest, his attention solely focused on wherever he was taking us.

As the light above began to fade, unease began to travel to my chest.

Rider did not look back, just kept pushing forward. Beads of sweat built on my forehead as he increased his speed. The humid air grew thicker the further we traveled. We pushed through, until so much time had passed that night moved in. I gasped for breath, unused to such bodily exertion.

Then suddenly, Rider pushed a branch out of the way, and a fence came into view. The fence was metal, but the panel in front of us had been cut . . . cut wide enough for us to fit through. Rider pushed the cut sheet aside. I swayed on my feet. I was so confused and exhausted that my head pounded and ached.

“Come on, baby,” Rider urged, indicating for me to go through. I hesitated just long enough for him to reach for my arm and guide me through. Rider fixed the sheet back in place behind us, then reached for my hand. At the same speed as before, we passed through several more lines of trees, before arriving at a deserted road . . . deserted but for a black vehicle with black windows.

I sucked in a breath. What was happening? Where were we going? Rider turned to face me. He placed both his hands on my upper arms and pushed me backward, until I was pressed up against the vehicle. His hands moved from my arms to cup my cheeks.

“Rider,” I whispered, trying to catch my breath. I leaned forward, lifting my hands to lie over his on my cheeks. I breathed in his scent and felt his heart racing against my chest. He was looking at me as if I was his sun. I felt in my heart that he was mine too.

“How?” I asked softly. “How did you . . . how is this even possible? I am so confused. I was meant to marry the prophet! I had to, to help our cause . . . what . . . what have you done?”

He stepped back, brushing my questions aside. “We need to go, baby.”

I reached for his wrist. “Where? Where are we going? I need to know what is happening!” I glanced back in the direction of the commune, fear lacing my veins. “My friends. My guardians . . . we cannot leave them! They need me. They needed me to get close to the prophet!”

Rider stopped and pulled me closer to him. “They
know
, Harmony. They helped me do all this. Now I need you to come with me so we can help them too. The plan has changed. We just didn’t tell you in case that knowledge put you in danger.”

A thick cloud clogged my mind. If they had helped Rider . . . “They will be punished!” My hand flew to my mouth. “He will kill them. He will kill them all for their betrayal. And where have you put your brother? Is he still alive?”

Rider cupped my face again. His expression was sympathetic, yet determined. “He is alive. Harmony, this moment was why your friends stayed in Puerto Rico all those years when they could have fled. This was why you volunteered to come back, too. We have set that plan in motion; it just looks different than you thought.”

“I do not understand,” I answered and held on tighter to Rider’s wrists. “I needed to marry him.”

“They—Brother Stephen, Sister Ruth, Solomon and Samson—couldn’t see that happen. We all saw what this wedding was doing to you. It was killing you inside. None of us could see you sacrifice yourself. My brother . . . he would have hurt you. And even if you could have taken it.
I
couldn’t.
We
couldn’t.” Rider closed his eyes. “This was the plan we devised the night they discovered who I was. I can get to people who can help us. Because we cannot do this alone. We need to get help . . . without destroying you in the process.”

I saw in his eyes that he was just as conflicted as me at leaving them. “Rider,” I rasped, the tears already clogging my throat. “Whoever will help us out of this mess? The authorities Brother Stephen talked of?”

Rider’s hands on my cheeks tightened just a fraction. “No. The people that Judah fears most.”

At first I could not think who that could be. Then the prophet’s teachings played in my mind. The sermons he preached through the speakers for all the commune to hear. “The devil’s men,” I whispered. Rider nodded his head once. “To rid ourselves of the prophet we must walk through hell?” I asked, trying to build the courage to face such men.

Rider stared at me for what felt like an eternity. “I fear we have already been living in hell, baby.” Rider’s jarring words halted my breath. “We have to go, now,” Rider said and went to turn away.

Just before he did, I pulled on his wrist until he was facing me. His eyebrows were pulled into a frown. He watched me, worry in his gaze. I stepped closer, once, twice, until I was right before him. “We are married,” I said in an awed whisper. I glanced down at my left hand in his, simple matching golden rings on our ring fingers. I ran my thumb over Rider’s band and looked up into his eyes. He was already watching me, eyes glistening. “In the eyes of our people, we are man and wife for eternity. And we are celestially joined. You and I . . .”

Rider did not speak. I watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. My heart increased in its pace as I feared that what I felt—the heady lightness of happiness fluttering in my heart—was not reciprocated. That it was simply for the sake of the plan.

Just as I was about to pull my hand from Rider’s, he backed me up against the vehicle again. My heart beat for an entirely different reason now. It was all due to the strange look in Rider’s intense gaze. As if his dark irises were lit with fire, a burning hunger in their depths.

I opened my mouth, willing myself to speak. But Rider’s hands landed on my face, and his mouth crashed down to mine. I was stunned, breathless, as Rider’s mouth devoured mine—passionate, desperate and filled with so much desire that my legs shook where I stood. My hands moved to his chest, trying to hold on tight to the new feel of being taken in such a way. The movement only urged Rider on. His tongue dueled with mine, so dominant yet so gentle and soft at the same time. My body felt alive with light and flames, so much so that my chest ached and I had to clench my legs together as a now-familiar feeling gathered at my core.

Finally, Rider pulled back, resting his forehead on mine as we both searched for lost breath. Our chests rose up and down in a frantic rhythm. When our starved lungs had finally found a reprieve, Rider ran his thumb down my arm to my wedding band. “I want you, Harmony. Right now I can’t fucking believe you’re my wife. That we . . . that you were my first. That I just had you like that . . .” He drew his head back, and brushing his lips against my mouth, said, “So fucking beautiful and perfect. And mine. Truly mine, in every way.” I closed my eyes, relieved that he wanted me too. “But I don’t deserve you. Not even one little bit.”

My eyes opened. I wanted to correct him, tell him that he deserved me more than anyone ever could, but he was already walking toward the vehicle. He opened the door. “Get in, baby, we need to go.”

I wondered why he kept calling me ‘baby’. I had never heard such a term used toward a grown woman, yet I recognized endearment in his tone.

Baby.

Trusting that Rider knew what he was doing, I got into the vehicle, and Rider slid into the driver’s seat. As he started the engine, he kept all the lights off. We sat in darkness. Rider took a deep breath. I watched him as his eyes closed and his lips seemed to tighten. Something had him troubled; he looked nervous, maybe even fearful. It made me feel fear too.

The devil’s men.

I had no idea who they were. But then I thought of Rider’s images on his arms and it began to make sense. He knew these men. He knew them well.

I took one of his hands in mine. Rider turned to me and I offered him a watery smile. He sighed; he knew that I had picked up on his fear.

Rider brought my hand to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the vanilla-scented skin. He pulled out onto the road and led us away from the prison that had held us for far too long. I didn’t let go of his hand as we traveled along the dark twisting roads.

I did not let go of his hand as I felt something dark stirring in my stomach. As I let Rider lead me into the den of evil, something in my heart told me that only pain of the worst kind awaited us at its gates.

So I kept holding on.

I vowed to hold on to my new husband with everything that I was.

I vowed to never let him go.

Rider

A potent mix of equal parts adrenaline and dread stirred within me as we raced away from the commune. I had one destination in my mind, one place I had to get Harmony to without incident. It was the only option. I just prayed to whoever the hell was watching over us now that I got her there.

She needed to be there. After everything she had been through . . .
fuck
. My head swam. I had just married her . . . I had just been with her. My skin burned. It was the best feeling in the world. Yet at the same time, I felt like I had cheated her. She had given herself to someone for the first time in her life . . . and I was a fucking fraud.

I was worse than Judah in my eyes.

I could feel Harmony’s gaze on me as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Her small fingers wrapped around mine just a little bit tighter every time she correctly sensed that I was fucking falling apart. But I wouldn’t break down. I had to keep my shit together and see this thing through. Brother Stephen, Sister Ruth, Solomon and Samson were relying on me.

Over an hour passed in silence. The outskirts of Austin came into view. I allowed myself to look at Harmony. Her back was straight and her eyes were huge as she watched the outside world whizz past us. Her hand was iron-tight in mine as she tried to drink everything in.

I remembered what that felt like. I was eighteen when Scholar Abraham had taken me out for the very first time, when he was preparing me to go undercover with the Hangmen. I remembered being so overwhelmed by the world outside that I wanted to run back and hide in The Pasture. But little by little I had gotten used to the lights and bustle of the city . . . of the mindless sinners, as I thought of them then.

In fact, the only reason I had adapted to the outside world so well was because I knew it was all damned. I was a saint among the sinners, and I believed that with one hundred percent conviction. As I stared out of the window, I too felt like I was seeing the world with new eyes. This time
I
was the fucked-up mess. This time I was the evil man who promoted a faith of pedophilia and rape.

I had never felt so disgusted with myself.

So disgusted with everything that I had done in the name of a God I was pretty sure had cast me from his good graces. The more I thought about it, the surer I was that something else held me in its hands. I could practically feel hell’s fire licking at the soles of my feet.

“It is so bright I can barely take it all in,” Harmony said in an awed tone. “Brother Stephen had explained this to me many times, had told me all about the outside world, but hearing of it and seeing it are very different things.” My stomach dropped. At her age, she shouldn’t be just seeing this for the first time. I watched her face and thought of everything Brother Stephen had told me the night I had discovered who they all were.

I couldn’t believe it at first. My mind wouldn’t allow me to believe it. But I knew it was true. I could see it now as I looked at her closely. She was so beautiful, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

It made total sense.

Releasing Harmony’s hand, I reached over to the glove compartment. As Solomon had promised, there was money, enough to do what we needed, and more if we needed to flee. The defectors from Puerto Rico had thought of everything. They had come to New Zion prepared and ready to succeed.

Harmony watched me in silence. Scanning the area, I recognized where we were. Not too far away from our destination at all. I drove three more miles, turned right and let out a deep breath when I saw the drugstore up ahead. I pulled in to the car park and cut the engine. Harmony’s eyes were still on me. I saw the confusion and fear in her expression. Taking her hand, I pulled her close. “I need to get something from here, okay?”

She looked at the store. “I should wait here?” she said nervously. I nodded and took out a wad of cash from the glove compartment.

“I’ll lock the door,” I said. I had to turn away from her terrified face and leave. The anger that had been so free-flowing in my veins for the past several weeks was back with vengeance. Seeing Harmony force herself to be brave made me lose my damn mind.

I was fucking falling hard.

Remembering the list of things Brother Stephen told me to get, I rushed through the quiet store, ignoring the strange looks I got from the staff. I knew the white tunic would cause some raised eyebrows. But this was Austin. Everything and
everyone
was weird.

I got out of the store as quickly as I could, throwing the stuff in the bed of the truck. When I got back into the driver’s seat, I leaned over to Harmony. Her face was white, her hands balled into fists in her lap. But she still held a determined look in her eyes.

I knew she would. She seemed wired to be a warrior in any situation.

“You okay, baby?” I kissed her forehead, then pressed a kiss on her lips.

“Yes,” she nodded. I smiled at her strength. Her hand lifted and ran over my cheek. Her eyes traveled over my body. “In this light I can see you properly. Your hair, your brown eyes . . . your groomed beard . . .” Her eyelashes kissed her cheek as she lowered her eyes. When she looked up, all doe eyes staring at me, she added, “You look so very handsome.” I didn’t say shit in response. My throat was closed. “They even covered your deeper bruises.” I rubbed off the powder Sister Ruth had put on my skin.

“The sisters put it on me too,” she said. “I am not used to wearing it on my face.” Harmony naturally was fucking stunning; with makeup enhancing her already flawless features, I was bowled over. There was no question as to why Judah captured her as a Cursed.

She was by far the most beautiful Cursed I had ever seen. Even above Mae. Mae was beautiful, but I knew now that what I had felt for her wasn’t even close to what I felt for Harmony. With Harmony it was more . . .
everything
. I couldn’t even explain it. She just made me feel centered. Grounded. When I’d been so fucking lost for so long.

We drove another couple of miles, until I saw the rundown motel on the left. I pulled in, got out of the truck and moved around to the passenger door. I opened it and took Harmony’s hand. Her fingers shook in mine as she got out of the truck. She looked all around her. “Are we here? Is this where we are going for help?”

I shook my head and reached for the drugstore bag in the bed of the truck. “One stop first, then we’ll go.”

Harmony nodded and tried to smile. She was so goddamn brave. And she trusted me. She trusted me completely. Fuck, I had done nothing to deserve it. Soon she’d no doubt fucking hate me too.

I knew I was on borrowed time.

I held Harmony’s hand in mine as we went to the motel office. I almost punched the pimply kid at the reception desk when his stupid eyes wouldn’t move off Harmony’s face. Possessiveness wrapped around me, boiling my blood. He was lucky I was in a hurry or he’d have been eating his teeth for supper. Snatching the keys from his hand, I led Harmony back outside and down to the room.

It was a shithole, but we weren’t there to sleep. I shut the door behind us and turned on a lamp. Harmony gasped as the shitty furnishings came into view. I was just about to tell her that we only needed an hour at most here, when she said, “This is a most beautiful room.” Harmony turned to me with shining eyes. “You have brought me here, Rider? To a room with a bed and a bathroom?”

She walked to the bed and pressed down on the mattress with her hand before sitting down. Her chin lifted and she smiled so fucking big that it was almost brighter than the lamp beside me. “It is so soft,” she said happily, a light giggle bubbling from her throat. “And it has linen.”

I stood like a fucking mute watching her, my now-wife gushing over a shitty bed and faded over-starched sheets. What she had truly been through all her life, at the hands of my family, of
me
, hit home.

We had robbed her of any form of joy, of something as simple as a damn bed. She’d had nothing. Nothing but hatred and judgment flung her way. Raped, abused . . . denied basic human rights.

I deserved to die. All of us who were responsible for making that her norm deserved to fucking die.

“Rider?” I blinked away the red mist that had descended over my eyes. Harmony was still smiling at me. I needed her to keep that smile. I would ensure by the end of tonight that smile never left her beautiful face again.

“Come,” I rasped, my voice thick with emotion. I walked toward the tiny bathroom and emptied the contents of the bag onto the faded white countertop. Harmony was a statue in the doorway, watching my every move. Her eyes dropped to the hair dye on the counter.

“We need to change how you look,” I said, picking up the box. “So if my brother and the disciple guards come looking, he won’t recognize you.”

Harmony studied me for a long while, before she slowly nodded her head and tentatively walked into the bathroom. I took the garland of flowers from her head, and released the two braids that held back the front sections of her hair. They fell in loose waves around her face.

Harmony’s smile hadn’t returned as we began to work the dye through her long blond hair. She stood still, facing the mirror, as I applied it to her hair, but her suspicious eyes never left mine. As the dye darkened her light hair to a midnight shade of black, I stood mesmerized, watching it change her appearance.

Harmony took a shower, washing off both the remnants of our wedding joining and the dye. She dressed, and I dried her hair. When the final strand was dry, I stood behind Harmony and swallowed. I stayed that way for too many minutes to count.

I snapped myself out my stupor and turned her by her shoulders. “Look up, baby.” Harmony’s shoulders sagged, and my mouth turned dry as I lifted my finger to each of her eyes and removed her contact lenses.

I looked at my wife, and I staggered back in disbelief. Forcing myself to gain some semblance of composure, I walked back to where she stood, completely still. I saw the unshed tears shining in her eyes.

“Brother Stephen told you . . . about me . . . ?” she whispered. It wasn’t really a question. It wasn’t a statement. It was a shocked realization that I knew everything about her.

Taking her wrist in my hand, I lifted it, and with a wet face towel I wiped off the impressive makeup on her wrist . . .

A tattoo. A tattoo I had seen only three times before, the name and numbers of a passage of scripture:
“But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone, which is the second death
.
”

“Revelation 21:8,” Harmony said cautiously. Bringing her wrist to my mouth, I kissed the tattoo. I wrapped my arms around her and brought her to my chest, holding her securely in my arms.

“I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely. “I’m so fucking sorry for the life you had.” Harmony began to cry, but only for a few moments. She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. I couldn’t stop staring at her. My heart simultaneously beat and bled for her. She was even more beautiful now, but not in the way I’d thought she’d be. She was simply a more beautiful Harmony. No one else. I couldn’t compare her. There was
no
comparison to me. As hard as that was to believe.

Harmony fought to regain composure, and I said, “You are the strongest person I have ever known. What you’ve been through, what you’ve survived . . . what you were willing to do to save the people in the commune . . . ”

Harmony laughed a single mirthless laugh. “That is not true. I
had
to be strong because people relied on me. I was looked upon as the strong one by the ones that I loved. But inside”—Harmony lifted her hand and brought it to her chest, right over her heart—“in here, I would crumble just like anyone else. I simply hid it from the world. I would not let the cruel men that hurt us find fuel within my tears. Strength is a shield, only to be lowered by trust.”

Her words were a blow to me, but it was the glint in her eyes that truly undid me, because it told me that she trusted me. Fuck . . . she trusted
me
.

Edging toward her, I let my hand fall down over her now-black hair. I looked into her captivating eyes. I was lost in their beauty, but we had to leave. It was time for Harmony to find her peace . . . even if it meant the beginning of one hell of a fucking war for me.

Slipping my hand into hers, I said, “Are you ready, baby?”

“Yes,” she replied, then stole the final fragment of my heart as she nervously added, “
Baby
.” She blushed as I smiled at the endearment.

I led Harmony out to the truck. We had about twenty miles to go.

So I held on to Harmony’s hand again. Smiling in the knowledge that her shattered heart would soon be fully healed.

A small act of redemption in my clusterfuck of a life.

*****

I didn’t know how I would feel as I rolled up to the place I once called home. I expected to be nervous—hell, I expected to feel nothing but fear of the inevitable . . . but strangely, I just felt numb. My heart didn’t race, my pulse didn’t speed up. I was simply calm, because I knew bringing Harmony here was right.