Never love and respect.

What the hell was I doing?

Everything was a mass of confusion in my brain. I tried to imagine being married to Mae here in New Zion. I would never have taken another. But Mae would have never have suffered this life. She hated this place, and I had once loved her enough to not want it for her.

Hell, I had no idea what I felt anymore. The longer I had stayed in that cell, hurting and in pain, the more my feelings for her had dimmed. Who wanted someone who despised you? Who wanted a woman who was repulsed by everything that you are?

Mae had wanted me as her friend, and all I had done was stab her in the back. A dull, unbearable ache settled in my stomach. Besides my brother, she had been my only friend.

I needed a friend right now.

Sucking in a slow, labored breath, I met my brother’s eyes. “I would never have kept her.” Judah’s head drew back. I’d shocked him. And just as I sensed no deception in his revelations, I knew he sensed no deception in mine. “She was never meant for our world.”

Judah seemed to radiate rage. It started as a low ember, growing to a molten fire. “Why?” he shouted, rising from his step like a demon from hell. “Why are you being this way? We were made for this life, but you are turning your back on the path, your people. Your brother! For what?”

I didn’t speak. Judah walked to where I sat and grasped my arm, sending pain ricocheting down toward my fingers. But Judah’s eyes were on my ink again. “I never let myself believe it. But you were truly corrupted. If you were still pure in your beliefs, you would not be fighting this with such venom.” He bent down and asked coldly, “Do you want to be put back in that cell? Do you want the punishment to continue? Do you want to be alone for the rest of your sinful life?”

A flicker of the old Judah sparked in my brother’s eyes. Buried beneath all of the power he held, below the faith that protected him like a shield, he was sincerely imploring me to repent. In that moment, I saw that he was just as afraid of failing in his leadership as I had been.

Judah’s hand slipped down my arm and landed in my palm again. I swallowed back the rush of emotion that came flooding forth. For the longest time I had been starved of faith in others. His hand was a lifeline. I was drowning, and he was trying so desperately to save me.

We’d only ever tried to save each other.

“Repent, brother,” Judah begged, his voice soft and pained. “Together we can make our people great. We can prepare the faithful for The Rapture. Heaven will be ours.” His fingers tightened around mine and he dropped a kiss on my head.

“If the end of days has come, then we will perish regardless. We have no pure Cursed Sister to save us through marriage. We’re doomed either way, Judah. All is lost. It is over.”

Seconds passed in silence. “No, it is not,” he said. I froze. Judah sighed in excitement. “I have found another.”

I reared my head back and searched his gleeful face. “What?” My voice was raw with shock.

Judah’s hands landed on my shoulders. “Repent, brother. All is not lost. Everything is going exactly to plan. Our people are training. They are learning how to fight. The devil’s denizens will not take us before we rise.” Locking eyes with me, he said once more, “Repent. Repent and return to stand beside me. It was always meant to be you and me. Let us finish this as we began. Together.”

Shock rendered me speechless. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to agree. I wanted to bathe, to sleep, to eat in the mansion. I wanted everything my brother did . . . but not how he wanted it.

I couldn’t.

I pulled away from his touch. “I won’t repent for what I’ve done. I was right. Our practices must change. The Cursed Sisters don’t belong here with us.”

In a flash, the loving brother I knew was gone and in his place was the pretender prophet once more. Standing, he turned from me, only coldness in his stance. “Brother Michael! Brother James!” Judah called. The door behind me opened. My heart was breaking, but I held still. Judah addressed the men behind me. “He refuses to repent. He is a sinner and his punishment must continue.”

“Yes, Prophet,” Brother Michael replied. I stared at my brother, willing him to look at me again. He didn’t. He walked out of the room, never looking back.

Large hands wrapped around my arms and I was yanked to my feet. I bit my tongue to stifle a shout of pain. The disciple guards dragged me to the punishment room, struggling to carry my limp body. I was taller and broader then both these men. But I was weak. I couldn’t fight back.

Like every day, I was made to stand, and the punches came. Fists plowed into my ribs, kidneys and chest . . . but I didn’t feel anything.

I forced myself to remain standing. They left my face alone today, but with every strike and blow to my body, they smiled, and I could see the disdain on their faces. But I could not hate them. I had been like them once. They believed in our cause, one hundred percent. In their eyes I was a sinner that had been swayed by the devil.

Maybe I was.

I knew the devil was real. Panic whipped around me. Maybe I had fallen victim to evil. Maybe my soul was destined to burn in hell.

I just didn’t know. As the questions circled in my head, I realized that, in that moment, I didn’t even care.

Brother Michael delivered one final rapid punch to my back and I fell to the floor, my knees buckling with the pain. My palms pressed down on the stone floor as I fought for breath.

Brothers Michael and James wrenched me back to my feet and pulled me from the punishment cell. I shook with every step I took. And with every new step, my anger grew. I could feel it infusing every part of my body, bitterness seeping into my veins like an intravenous drip.

The door to the cell house opened. Sensing someone was near, I lifted my head to see two new guards standing at the entrance. They were both dark haired, with dark eyes. They were heavily muscled, with short hair and dark-stubbled cheeks. They looked as if they were related. Each of them held an AK-47 in their hands, and they were dressed in the typical black clothing and heavy boots of the disciple guards. They flicked their chins at the guards holding me. When their eyes fell to me, their lips curled in disgust.

As I was dragged back to my cell, I noticed an older man and an older woman preparing food at the end of the long hallway. They both looked toward me, but quickly turned away when the guards from the entrance ordered, “Work!”