Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen 4)

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 . . .”