Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“That’s it.” Caleb’s voice strains as he wipes some of the blood away. “That’s how I pictured this moment.”
I hear his zipper coming down, and terror streaks through me. On instinct, my arms jerk behind me, and when they do, I feel the last of the rope splitting apart, freeing me. But when I open my eyes again, prepared to fight, the sight above me makes me freeze.
Caleb is sucking the blood from his fingers on one hand while he fumbles around in his pants with the other. He looks like he’s trying to jerk himself off.
I wait in shocked silence, wondering what’s happening. I expected him to force himself on me the same way he tried to do last time. But is it possible he won’t because he knows I’m no longer a virgin?
He mutters a curse as I’m considering it, glaring down at me.
“Worthless whore,” he growls. “That’s what you are.”
He shoves my dress over my hips, exposing my thong to him. I brace myself, searching for weak spots. He took my self-defense ring, learning his lesson from last time, so all I have are my hands, which he doesn’t yet know are free. Even in his current state, he’s stronger than me, so I have to think this through. But even as I try to recall what I learned in my defense classes, his irritation grows, and I can’t understand what he’s doing. Not until he finally yanks up his robe and grunts his frustration as he tugs on his limp dick. There’s something wrong with him, and he can’t get it up.
Relief swells inside of me as Elizabeth’s voice returns.
I’m with you, Willow. Always with you.
It’s all I hear before the sound of tires crunching over gravel snatches his attention. I turn my head in that direction, noting the headlights coming our way, and a renewed sense of alarm compounds inside me. It’s the same truck that left us here, with the man Caleb was arguing with.
“Fuckkkk!” he roars. “Sonsofbitches.”
He stuffs his cock back into his pants and moves to stand, and panic drives me to act. I know this is the only shot I’m going to get. The van is still running, and it might not even make it out of the ditch, but whoever’s in that vehicle is coming back for us. If I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself.
While Caleb is distracted, I scoot back, reaching for the rope around my feet as I sit up. The truck comes to a stop, lights blinding us as two men hop down from the cab.
“Caleb.” The voice is one I don’t recognize, but it sounds like an older man.
“Frederik,” Caleb responds, tension lingering in his tone.
“You disobeyed my orders.”
Caleb shifts, giving me more of his back, and I use the opportunity to work faster, yanking the knot free before I unravel the rope around my feet.
“I don’t take orders from you,” he tells the man. “I take my orders from God.”
A moment of silence passes before the other man speaks again. “You’ve brought us nothing but trouble since your release. You’re being too reckless. The damned will come for us and toss us all in cells to rot. Is that what you want?”
I don’t wait for Caleb’s response. The moment the rope is free, I’m up on my feet, darting for the van. I make it to the door, nearly tripping over the driver’s body, before I hear Caleb’s muttered curse as he chases after me. But when I grab the door handle, my fingers slip on the blood there.
I’m still scrambling for purchase, frustration making me scream when I feel his presence behind me.
“What did I tell you?” He grabs me by the hair again. “Fucking heathen.”
It’s the last thing I hear before he slams my head into the door, knocking me out cold.
3
AZRAEL
Salomé doesn’t come rushing out to us. In fact, she’s not in the house at all. Emmanuel calls down from Bec’s room, confirming she’s gone, and there’s no need to search mine. I know Willow is, too. And Raven.
Rage spreads through me as, with that tome in my hands, I slam through the French doors and hurry to where I know my grandmother will be. Sure enough, at the foot of Shemhazai’s broken altar, Salomé is on her knees with her head bowed. She’s spread something out on the stone altar, familiar red strands like thread.
Except they’re not thread.
Her eyes are closed, and her lips move in prayer.
“What did you do?” My voice is a roar in the night.
Even she, with her supposed superhuman hearing, must be startled by my sudden appearance because her head snaps back to look at me, her hands coming to the altar as she raises herself up.
My gaze falls to the red wisps blowing in the breeze, and my vision blurs black at its edges.