Chapter Nineteen
Phebe
I did not know how long we were in the van, but it felt like hours. Grace had cried in my arms until she fell asleep, exhausted. But I never let her go. I kept her tightly to my chest as I thought of what lay ahead.
Fear. I had nothing within me but pure fear.
The van came to a stop, and I tensed when I heard voices outside. The voices were low, but deep and most certainly male. I trembled when I heard the sound of feet moving to the doors of the van. Grace woke and raised her head, a confused look on her pretty face as the doors flew open.
The men who had taken us reached inside and tore Grace from my arms. Grace screamed and reached out for me. I jumped out of the van, trying to get to her, but a hand wrapped around my hair and wrenched me back. “No!” I screamed, fighting to be free. “Grace!” I broke down in tears when the men led her into a building and out of my sight.
I looked all around me and did not recognize the place where we were. The air was as hot and sticky as the Hangmen’s home, the sky still as clear. Fields of green were all around us. A water tank sat in the middle of several buildings, but there was nothing else for miles.
“He wants her in Building Two,” one of the men said. With his hand still in my hair, I was dragged down a dirt path. I lashed out, trying to see around me for Grace, but there was nothing. Worse, I could no longer hear Grace’s screams.
Just silence.
Why was she being so quiet?
We stopped at a building. The man holding me opened the door and threw me inside. I landed hard on the stone floor but scrambled to my feet just as the door shut behind me. I bashed my clenched fists against the wood, yelling to be out. But after minutes and minutes of trying, screaming . . . I broke down into sobs and slid down the door.
What have I done?
I looked around the room. There was nothing but an old table and chair in the center. Then I thought of the man’s order. He wants her in Building Two . . .
He . . . Meister.
On my hands and knees, I crawled into the corner of the room. I curled against the wall and tried to picture Grace. What were they doing to her? What would they do to her?
Meister. He had coveted her in New Zion. And I had just delivered her to him on a silver platter.
I chased back the vomit creeping up my throat. Lilah . . . she would never forgive me for this.
What have you done, Phebe?
The sound of the knob turning in the door made me freeze. I held still, my heart beating a frantic rhythm. I kept my eyes fixed on the door . . . then lost all strength when Meister walked though. He was just as big as I remembered. He looked at me across the room, his blue eyes meeting mine, and a wave of memories rushed to my mind. I remembered being chained to a bed . . . I remembered being kept naked, only given clothes when he claimed I had earned it.
I choked on a cry when I remembered being in a bar of some sort. On Meister’s lap, riding Meister in a room full of people . . . then I turned . . . I turned and . . .
. . . AK?
Kind eyes.
The tree . . .
. . . my AK.
The soles of Meister’s black boots stepped toward me on the hard ground. My muscles trembled as he stopped before me. I heard every breath I took echoing in my ears. I felt the pulse in my neck, temple and wrists race in an unsteady beat.
He bent down. I closed my eyes, yet I still felt his gaze on me. I felt the daggers his eyes threw and the tension he held in his enormous body. I flinched when a finger landed on my face. My nostrils flared as I desperately tried to control my breathing. I wanted to throw his hand from me, I wanted to lash out and hurt him.
But fear held me ransom.
“Where have you been, my little whore?” his deep, rough voice asked. I froze, my tears falling down my cheeks. A short laugh spilled from his lips. “But I know, don’t I, Liebchen?” His hand left my cheek and pushed into my hair. Suddenly, my head was ripped back and I felt his breath on my face. “Open your fucking eyes, slut,” he demanded. I automatically did as he said, and my gaze clashed with his.
My stomach fell. He was seething. The skin on his face was red, and his muscles were strained. His teeth were bared, and veins bulged from his neck. He yanked my hair back again, and I cried out. “You were with one of them, weren’t you, whore? Fucking them, fucking their cocks like the cult cum-slut that you are.”
Meister reached down and slammed his hand between my legs. I screamed, unable to hold back my reaction when he dug his fingers into my folds, ripping at the flesh.
Meister’s rough, unshaven cheek rubbed against mine, burning my skin. “After everything I gave you. After saving you from dying along with all the other dumbfucks at that cult, this is how you repay me?”
Shaking and fearful, I managed to open my mouth and ask, “What have you done with her?”
Meister’s head drew back, and he smiled. “You mean the little eight-year-old pussy you brought me as a gift? The one I’d wanted in the cult from the minute I saw her?” His malicious smile caused my skin to shiver. “Nothing. She is safe. A girl as pretty as her, untouched and a virgin, is going to make me fucking fortune.” He pulled me closer by my hair. “That gift almost . . . almost makes up for your disobedience. You’re a good little whore-fisher, Phebe. Bringing me only the top-quality bait for my buyers. I should have you on staff. We’d make a fortune putting your skills to use.”
My eyes closed, ignoring his taunts, relieved that Grace would remain unharmed for now. “Open your motherfucking eyes!” Meister snarled. He jumped to his feet, pulling me to stand. My scalp felt on fire as I struggled to escape his hold, the pain that was shooting down my spine. I was slammed against the wall, my lungs losing air at the impact. Meister’s huge body pressed against mine. He lifted my dress and, ripping my panties in two, thrust his fingers inside. I screamed.
“What’s wrong?” His lips ran over my cheek, a dark contrast to his hands scraping and stabbing within my channel. “Did he not take you like this? The sniper? Xavier?” I froze, my eyes colliding with his in shock. “Xavier Charles Deyes. Plano, Texas. Scout Sniper, Marines. Sergeant-at-arms for the Hades Hangmen.” He smiled wider, then licked over my lips. “I know everything about him. I know his brother killed his wife. I know he has a nephew who’s still alive, lives with his Aunt Claire and Uncle Tom.” He nodded his head in approval. “Good-looking kid. I went to his school and made sure it was really him. Zane’s his name. He kept Deyes as his surname, even though daddy-dearest went postal and hacked up his mother on the kitchen floor.” He sighed. “I’ve got to make sure I target the right people, Phebe. This war shit ain’t no horseplay.”
My eyes widened in horror. Meister looked affronted. “What? You thought I’d just let them get away with taking my girl?” He shrugged. He brought his fingers out of my channel, leaving the tips resting at the entrance. “Shame you came back so soon though. It was unexpected.” I searched his eyes. What did he mean by that? “I’d just bought three barrels of cesium. I was in the middle of making a dirty bomb, real potent shit. I was going to watch that Hangmen compound burn to the fucking ground, a smile on my face, with all those bastards inside.” He shook his head in mock-disappointment. “All their sluts and kids too. The bastards deserve it. I did some digging on that MC. It used to be an all-white crew; they had a no-blacks rule. Did shit right. But now they have a black-and-white mutt riding beside them. The Hades Hangmen, just another fucking letdown to the white race.”
“You are insane,” I whispered, thankful that he did not get to go through with his plan. Lilah . . . Grace . . . AK . . . all their family. The children.
Meister froze, then rolled his head my way. “Insane? No. I’m in a fucking war, a war I’m going to win.” He forced his fingers back inside me, so roughly I knew he would have drawn blood. “And you were going to be my woman. The one beside me when the Brotherhood and Klan unite and take back what is rightfully ours.”
He leaned in until his mouth was at my ear. “So I had to get a replacement. I need a whore, after all. I’m fucking Meister. I needed a good little Aryan princess on my arm . . . and on my cock. Meine Liebchen.”
Meister tore his hands from between my legs, and I sagged against the wall. He marched to the door and ordered something from one of his men. Meister shut the door again and rested his back against the door. He stared at me, and I never moved my eyes from him.
I just watched him, wondering, fearing, what would happen next.
The door opened, and someone was flung inside. I pushed off the wall when I saw the figure on the ground. It was . . .
“Martha?” I said almost inaudibly, shock stealing the sound. Martha moaned in distress and pain. But she turned at the sound of my voice, and I saw her face. It was cut and bruised black and blue. Her hair was tangled and filled with dirt. But when she saw me, I knew she was no longer under the influence of the potion, because her eyes truly saw me. They recognized me.
“Martha.” I stepped forward, but Martha scurried backward and shook her head, arms out. Tears were falling down her cheeks. “I am sorry.” She shook her head again, face contorting. “I had no choice.” She flicked her terrified gaze at Meister, who was still watching, amused, from the door. His arms were folded, and there was smugness in his blue stare.
“Sorry for what?” I asked, dread filling my veins, drop by heavy drop.
“You see, Liebchen, I could not understand why you attacked Dale that day, weeks ago. Why, when I had ordered you to stay by our shack, you disobeyed me. You had never disobeyed me before. You were always such a good little whore. Always obedient. Then I remembered you were trying to get to someone in the barn. Someone you knew. Someone you wanted to save.” He pointed at Martha. “Or at least two people. You knew this one too, I saw it in your eyes.” He paused. “But then there was the kid on the bed. My biggest draw, my most used piece of pussy. And I knew there was more to it.”
I swallowed, whipping my head to Martha, who was now sobbing on the floor. “I pulled them off the cocktail that kept them under my command and decided to get some answers from them. The other one, the young, golden pussy, never cracked. Not once. Fucking strong-willed slut. But this one . . . ” Meister walked to Martha and lifted her up by her arm. “This one squealed like a fucking pig. She told me why you wanted the other slut freed so badly.” I held my breath as Martha shook her head. Her eyes were so ashamed, so filled with guilt.
“No,” I whispered, my legs beginning to lose strength.
“A daughter,” Meister said and smiled. A wide, cruel smile. “A fucking daughter you had at twelve years old.” His head tilted to the side. “It seems you always were a slut, Phebe. Fucking men when you were a child? No wonder you were so good on my cock. By the time I got to you, you had that shit down to perfection.”
“I am sorry, sister,” Martha said, and my heart cracked for her. She was black and blue, too thin and so broken. No more than a living corpse.
I opened my mouth to tell her there was nothing to forgive, when Meister’s hands suddenly moved and snapped her neck, the loud crack of breaking bone echoing off the stone walls. Martha’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground.
I screamed seeing my friend’s eyes forever staring at me, her neck disjointed. I screamed and screamed as Meister moved to the door and opened it. A guard entered, dragging another person with him. And then the everything seemed to stop—my thoughts, my heart, the breath in my lungs—as Sapphira was thrust before me.
“No!” I shouted and Sapphira’s head lifted up to face me.
Her brown eyes filled with tears, and her hands covered her mouth. “Phebe?” she said through her cut and swollen lips. I watched her face twist in sadness, and she tried to run toward me.
Meister pulled her back against his body, and I snapped. Pushing my feet forward, I charged at Meister. I needed to get him away from my girl. But before I could, a blow came to my stomach and my knees hit the ground. I was wrenched up by the guard, who held on to my arms, keeping me back.
“Sapphira!” I shouted, watching her eyes grow large with fear.
“Phebe!” she called back. Meister sliced his hand across her face. Her head lolled to the side, dazed, and Meister took hold of her cheeks, forcing her to face me.
I cried, choking on anger at seeing my daughter in this monster’s arms. Meister could see it in my expression, I knew. He smiled coldly. His hand moved down to her breasts, and he squeezed the flesh. Sapphira cried in his arms, but he had no sympathy for her. I tried to move, to get to her, but I was bound by the guard’s incredible strength.
Sapphira looked down and saw Martha’s dead body. She struggled to be free, fear taking her over, her screams loud and shrill. Meister held her still. “I told you I needed a replacement when you left,” Meister said again, and I blanched. He stroked Sapphira’s cheek. “When I found out who she was, I knew it had to be her.” His hand ran down her torso, until it reached her core. I moaned in anguish as he touched her between her legs. Her brown eyes fixed on mine—begging, crying for help. “And her pussy is tighter. So fucking tight.” He shrugged, groaning as though that fact brought him pleasure. “I’m guessing that’s due to her age. Fourteen.” He shook his head. “So fucking good to own. To lick. To taste. Perfect teenage pussy.”
I whimpered, unable to bear him speaking of my daughter in such a way. With his eyes on me, he said, “And she fucking loves it . . . watch.” Meister put his hand on the back of Sapphira’s neck and pushed her forward. Her feet stumbled as she tried to keep upright. Meister bent her over the table in the center of the room and kicked up her soiled dress.
I lost control. Every fiber of my being flared to life at the thought of Sapphira on that table, being forced. And when she looked up at me, her eyes helpless yet resigned to her fate, I could not do anything else.
I kicked. I kicked and I scratched the guard holding me, frantic and completely wild. “Fuck!” the guard cried when I managed to hit between his legs. His arms fell from me, and I charged forward. I ran at Meister, full force, and pushed on his chest. He only stumbled back a fraction. But it was enough for Sapphira to get free, to back away. And I swung. Fists formed, I lashed out at his face. I struck and I struck, until Meister’s patience broke and he struck me across the face. I fell at the blow, fell until my back hit the table. But he kept coming, face raging, his strikes hitting every target—my face, my stomach, my chest.
“Phebe!” I heard Sapphira call, crying behind me. But all I could think was that she was safe now.
I had saved her from him.
Meister yanked me closer to him. His blue eyes were on fire. “You want a fuck that bad, slut?” he asked through gritted teeth, spitting on my face.
I did not answer, but instead let him spin me around and slam my chest down onto the table. The wind was knocked out from me, but when I looked up, I saw the guard that had previously held me holding my daughter instead. And she was breaking her heart, crying. She watched, she looked into my eyes as Meister lifted my dress and rammed himself inside me. Still sore from his fingernails cutting my insides, his fingers taking me so harshly, and my face still throbbing from his blows, I kept my expression calm. I smiled weakly, trying to tell her I was okay. I smiled at Sapphira and kept her gaze. If she held my eyes with her own, she would not see Meister plowing into me so roughly. She would not see me wanting to scream out in agony at the pain.
He took and he took, but all I could think was that I was glad it was me and not Sapphira. I could not have seen that . . . it would have killed me.
Meister grunted and bellowed behind me until I felt his hips jerking. Until I heard him shout through his release. I felt his seed spurt inside me and breathed, knowing that it was over.
Meister leaned over me, and with his mouth at my ear said, “Tomorrow you will both be out of my life and going to hell. Then I’ll go after everyone you love. Your sister at the Hangmen and that prick you’ve been screwing. Each will die. Slowly. And they’ll die knowing you condemned them. Damned them.” Meister signaled for the guard to release Sapphira. She stood on the spot, not knowing what to do.
I heard the men’s footsteps move toward the exit and the door close behind them. When I looked to check they were gone, my legs collapsed and I fell to the ground. I tried to lift my body, but I could not.
“Phebe!” Sapphira’s soft voice sounded like the welcome of heaven to my ears. “Phebe,” she said again. Tears flooded her face as she looked down at me. When I traced her gaze, I saw the blood coming from between my legs, staining my upper thighs.
“It is okay,” I said, and almost broke when she came to my side and knelt beside me. I drank in her beautiful features. And I let my tears loose when I saw that freckle I had always loved to the side of her left eye.
“You are hurt.” She tentatively reached out her hand, unsure where she could touch me. But I wanted to feel the touch of her hand so much. I reached out and took it, bringing it to my face. “Why?” she said and cried harder, her walls tumbling down. “Why did you do that? He . . . he has hurt you so badly.”
“I could not let him hurt you anymore.” I tried to move my legs. Sapphira put her arms under mine and helped me move to lean against the nearest wall. She was so skinny, so weak, yet she carried me . . . my baby.
She sat down beside me. I took her hand, and I saw her newborn hand in the center of my palm fourteen years ago. Then her four-year-old hand in mine as we ran around the fields on one of my visits. Her shaking hand in mine when she had received her first touch from a man.
All of it my daughter . . . my beautiful daughter.
“You are mine,” I said, unable to hold back the words any longer. “You are my miracle, my little girl.” My voice was cut and broken, but I felt Sapphira tense beside me.
When I looked at her confused face, I smiled, even through the gutting pain. Because she was here beside me. She was here, when I thought she had been lost. There was no more pain now that I had her hand in mine once more.
Her eyes were wide as she listened to me confess my biggest secret. As I watched her, I felt such love for her, so much it was indescribable.
“You are mine,” I told her again, never breaking her gaze. “Mine.”
I kissed the back of her hand and tried not to break down at the sight of her cut and bruised face. “I . . . I do not understand,” she said.
Her hand trembled in mine. I held on to her tighter. “I gave birth to you when I was twelve.” Sapphira sucked in a shocked breath. I felt her pulse race on her wrist and saw her eyes shimmer. She blinked, her long lashes like feathered fans as she tried to comprehend everything I said. I cleared my throat, tears streaming down my cheeks. “They took you from me. They took you from me against my will and would not let me have you.” I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “But I fought to see you. I did everything I could to see you.”
“You . . .” she whispered. “You are my sister. You told me you were my sister . . .”
“I had no choice. They would not let me tell you the truth. They did not want us to become too attached.” I laughed without mirth. “It did not work. From the minute you were born, you were my entire soul.”
Sapphira’s bottom lip quivered as she stared at me. She searched my face as if seeing me as someone new. “I wanted you too,” she said softly and inched closer to me. “I would ask for you all the time, but they said you would not come to me unless I did as they ordered. I . . . I wanted you. My sister Phebe.”
“You did?” I asked in disbelief.
She smiled slightly. “My favorite moments were when you came. I would count the days in between wondering where you were.” She dropped her eyes then, looking up at me nervously, said, “I . . . I always wanted a mother.”
Her words shattered my heart. My eyes drifted to a close. “Phebe?” she said urgently, and I smiled. I smiled through the pain and the tears. “I always wanted you too.”
I opened my eyes and saw Sapphira staring at me with nothing but love in her gaze. Then she looked at Martha’s body on the floor and sadness quickly overcame her. She broke. My daughter broke, and for once in my life, I was here to offer comfort . . . I was here for her . . .
I took her in my arms, pulling her into my chest. And she came. She took the solace I offered and caused my heart to soar. I rocked her back and forth, kissing the hair on her head. I held her in my arms, and even in this hell, I could have been fooled into believing I was beside a river in heaven, peaceful and content.
Sapphira cried. I cried as I held her. “Shh,” I soothed and heard her stuttered breaths. She fell apart in my arms for minutes and minutes, until her breathing calmed and she slowly came back together. Taking advantage of the silence, I said, “I did not know you were here.” Sapphira stiffened. “The prophet, or who we all believed to be the prophet, told me he had saved you.” I winced. “I thought you were safe.”
“I was given to Meister,” she said, and I felt the guilt take root. “I . . . I do not remember much of that until . . . until a few weeks back when he brought me around.” She hiccupped. “He wanted me . . . he used me as his. Wanted me as his white princess, he said.”
Her words sent a stab of pain into my stomach. Sapphira lifted her head. “I cannot believe this.” Blushing, eyes timid, she ran her finger over my forehead, down my cheek and over my lips. “My mother,” she said and the sound of that name from her lips punctured my heart. “You are my mother . . .” She laughed a single laugh, then her forehead creased and she began to weep. “And you saved me from him,” she said. “You took my place. And he . . . he . . .”
“Always,” I promised and laid her head upon my shoulder.
“Why is life like this?” she asked softly. She looked up at me, and I met her gaze. “This . . . painful. This sad.”
Uncontained sadness burrowed inside of me at the life she had. That she had lived. “It is not,” I said and watched the surprise blossom on her cheeks. “Out there, there is happiness to be found.”
“Truly?” she asked.
“I have seen it. I . . . for a short, precious time, I lived it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “And what is it like?”
“Beautiful, if you only let in the light. If you chase the sunrise.” I smiled to myself. “There is a man out there who made me believe in something I thought was forever lost.”
“What?”
“Love.” I glanced down at my daughter. “I have loved you. I have loved you, yearned for you, yet have been wounded every step of the way. I have a sister—you have an aunt. Lilah. And I watched her be hurt too many times to count. And you have a cousin, Grace, who you would simply adore.”
“I do?” she said in shock.
I nodded. “Then there is AK. The man who showed me what good truly means. Showed me love without condition. A man I left as I could cause him no more pain. He has suffered too much in this life too.” Then my heart fell. “But Meister has Grace. She is here . . . somewhere.”
Sapphira’s eyes closed. “What . . . what will happen to us? What will become of us all?”
I held her tighter as she rested on my shoulder once more. “I do not know,” I said honestly. “But I will fight for us. For you and Grace. I will . . .” I kissed her, stroked my hand through her blond hair. “I will fight for my daughter.”
Sapphira’s breathing steadied into a soft rhythm, and without seeing her face I knew she had smiled. “Daughter,” she murmured and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Mother . . . I like the sound of that.”
As she fell asleep against me, cradled in my arms, I realized that wishes and hopes could come true. I had rocked her to sleep when it mattered most. And although I did not know what Meister planned, I would never let her down again. In this dark moment, I cherished every second of this time. This silent time with my daughter back in my arms. As a baby, her heart had beat next to mine. And in my warm embrace, it beat once again, making me whole.
After all these years of struggle, I had my baby back with me.
Asleep, comforted by my touch.
And I would die to keep her safe.
*****
“Where are we going?” I gripped Sapphira’s hand. The guard did not speak as he dragged us from the room in which we had slept. He forced us into the bright morning light and toward a waiting van.
Three larger vans were beside it. Meister stood, waiting. He watched as the door was opened and we were thrown inside. “Aunt Phebe!” a familiar voice shouted as I hit the floor of the truck. Sapphira came in beside me and I pulled her to my side. Grace was tucked into the corner of the van, looking fearful.
“Grace,” I said in relief and she scurried into my arms.
“Aunt Phebe . . . I am scared,” she cried and tucked her head into the crook of my arm. I shook my head, tears springing from my eyes as I tried to think of what to do. But I had no answers. Gentle fingers wiped away the droplets from my cheeks. I turned to see Sapphira giving me a watery smile.
More pain than I had ever felt in my life rushed through me when I realized that all of this—this pain and suffering, this rough treatment by men—was nothing new to Sapphira. It was all she had ever known.
Grace’s head lifted and looked across at Sapphira. I hugged Grace tighter. “Grace, this is Sapphira . . .” I inhaled deeply and said, “My . . . my daughter.”
I heard Sapphira’s breath hitch, knew she felt the strangeness those words conjured as much as I did. But they felt right, and when I nervously met Sapphira’s eyes, I saw a sense of peace settle within them.
“Your daughter?” Grace sniffed.
“Yes.”
Sapphira ran her hand over Grace’s head. “Nice to meet you, Grace,” she said shyly.
“You too,” Grace replied.
I had little time to enjoy the moment. The doors were slammed shut, and we were plunged into darkness. So I held on to my niece and my daughter, my hands clasped tightly in theirs.
And as we rolled away, I prayed to whoever was listening that I could somehow get us out of this alive.
We deserved our chance at happiness.