“Rider,” Bella whispered. “What have you done?” She picked up clumps of my fallen hair.
“I couldn’t be him anymore,” I said. “I couldn’t look in the mirror and see him. I . . . I couldn’t see everyone out there in that bar and have them see me as him . . . Grace, Lilah . . . ” I looked at my wife. “You.”
Bella shook her head. “No, Rider. You are not your brother. No one thinks that.”
Judah’s dying words raced through my mind . . . Evil begets evil, Cain. Whatever sin blackens my soul lives in you too. We are the same. Made the same . . . born the same . . .
“We are,” I said. I traced the veins in my wrist with my fingers. “We share the same blood.” I shook my head. “We never knew our parents, but look at our uncle. Look at Judah . . . I am made from the same evil as they were. I can’t escape my fate.”
I hated the helpless expression on Bella’s face. I didn’t want to hurt her even more than I already had. But . . . but . . .
“Do you think I am evil?”
My head snapped up to Ruth, who was standing nervously in the doorway. I frowned. “What?”
Ruth lowered herself to the floor and sat opposite me. Bella molded herself against my side and took hold of my hand. I drew strength from her touch. She was my fucking strength.
“Do you think I am evil?” Ruth repeated. Bella looked confused.
“No,” I said, staring at the woman I knew almost nothing about. She looked different now, in her long skirt and shirt, from when I’d first met her. Her long brown hair was down, and her brown eyes watched me closely . . . so fucking closely.
Ruth swallowed and lowered her eyes. “Then you are like me.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. “I don’t understand.”
Ruth kept her eyes down. Her hands were clasped on her lap. “I was thirteen when I was taken away by my adopted older brother. My parents were never around, too busy finding their next drink to care. So he took me. He came for me and told me he had found God, and that he had been given a holy task to fulfill.”
I completely froze as she continued.
“He took me to Texas. I could not believe his new home when I saw it. I could not believe all the people that loved him, worshiped him . . . but my love of his home did not last.” Bella squeezed my hand so tight I thought it might cut off my blood. “Because he came for me one night. I didn’t understand what he wanted from me—his sister. But I soon found out.” She winced. “He took me to his bed . . . and . . . and . . . ” Ruth squeezed her eyes shut.
When she lifted her head, tears were tumbling down her cheeks. “I did not know I was carrying twins. Lance, my brother, kept it from me when the medics gave me scans. I was kept away in seclusion until they were born.” She released a sob. “I was only allowed to hold them in my arms for a few minutes after they were born. I had never wanted those children; they were forced upon me by him. But when I saw their big eyes staring up at me, I instantly fell in love. I wanted them so badly, I can barely explain it. They were mine . . . my soul, my heart . . . until he took them away.”
“No,” Bella whispered and her hand shook violently in mine. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. No air was getting through.
“I cried and cried for hours. I screamed for my sons to be brought back to me. But I was told by my older brother, the prophet, that my boys—his sons—were to be raised as his heirs. That God had given him instructions on how to raise them . . . far away from the people. Because they were special.”
“Ruth,” Bella said and reached out for her hand. Ruth’s face contorted with pain as Bella gave her much-needed comfort. But I couldn’t move. Shock rendered me speechless.
“I never got over losing my boys. The prophet said I had become a plague on the commune with my depression and lack of faith, so he sent me away. He sent me far away from my sons so I would not interfere with God’s plans.”
“Puerto Rico,” Bella whispered.
Ruth nodded. “I was there until we were brought back to the US to join New Zion.” Ruth looked at me nervously, then shuffled forward. She picked up a piece of my hair from the floor. I realized then that her hair and mine were exactly the same brown. Her eyes were the same color and shape as my own.
She was . . . she was . . .
“I think that Judah was like his father, and that”— she swallowed—“that you are like your mother . . . ” She met my eyes. “Me.”
I stared at this woman, trying to take in everything she was telling me. Uncle David wasn’t my uncle, he was my father. And he had raped his adopted sister . . . my mother . . .