“I never said that,” my reply shoots out of my mouth before I can stop myself, and not only that, but the angered tone that came with it was a sure shock to me, and most likely to Faith as well.
“You’re right . . . you didn’t, but given the way you just snapped at me . . . I’m pretty sure I’m gonna make it out on top with this bet,” Faith giggles, and I roll my eyes at the woman.
Iris hands me the drink and I grab my beer, slide off the barstool and walk over to where Venom is. I don’t ask to take a seat across from her because I know she’ll more than likely tell me to fuck off. It’s how she gets when she’s aggravated, but I care too much about the woman to walk away and let whatever she’s battling fuck with her head even more.
“You look like you need this,” I tell her while scooting the vodka on the rocks across the table at her.
She wraps a hand around the glass and gives me a head nod in thanks, then brings the glass to her lips and takes a sip. “Thanks.”
I sit across from Venom and don’t say much of anything. I’m not here to pressure her into saying anything, and I’m not here to give her some sorta lecture either. I’m just here, for whatever she needs, regardless of what it is. She sits across from me sipping her vodka in silence and I finish off my beer.
Still, what Faith said burns deep in the back of my mind. I like Venom in more ways than one, but I’ve never wanted to ruin our friendship for any reason. We get along well, in fact, very well. The last time I fucked a woman I was friends with it ended up backfiring and after the fact, the chick and I weren’t friends anymore. The last thing I want to happen is to lose Venom, not when the woman knows things about me I haven’t even told some of the brothers here. Nor have I told Emerson, and Emerson is damn near my best friend.
Fuck, I wish this decision wasn’t the type to plague my mind with warnings of what the future might bring.
Chapter Four
Venom
I can do this. I can fucking do this. It’s not like I have any other choice now . . . because if I get caught they’ll kill me. God, they won’t just kill me, they’ll make sure I suffer . . . and Eric . . . and Peyton too.
“Are you alright?” Eric nervously asks me, his chest rising and falling with every breath.
I nod though it’s a lie. I’m not okay. I’m about to risk all of our lives to get out of this damned place, a place I never thought we could be free from. While it seemed like solace at one point in time, in reality we’re living in a prison. There are no physical walls, yet there are walls.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” I question him, taking his hand in mine.
We’ve been married for a little over two years. We were high school sweethearts and he went into the Army. He didn’t even make it to Iraq and gave me some sort of excuse about being discharged for medical reasons. While I never pressured him about it or searched for more information, I knew there must’ve been more to the story. Someone doesn’t just get medically discharged after going to basic training.
“If it’s what you want, I’ll do it, Vanna. We’re family. We’re in this together.” I grab onto Eric’s hand and squeeze it, silently thanking him for supporting me. I was so fearful he’d betray us, but he hasn’t. Instead he immediately jumped on board and decided this was the best for our family. I can’t express how thankful I am. I know I’m one of the lucky ones here. There are so many others whose husbands would’ve betrayed them. They would’ve told the leaders what they planned, got them stoned to death, maybe even pulled apart limb by limb. It’s shit from the Handmaidens Tale, but this is our reality. This is the life we live.
“Okay, okay, um, let me get Peyton and we’ll go,” I tell him while I walk into our daughter’s nursery. I gave Peyton a little bit of Benadryl before she went to sleep, hoping it would help keep her quiet while we run out of the compound. I know enough to know a screaming baby would alert anyone who’s awake, so hopefully we won’t run into that issue. After all, there are so many more obstacles for us to jump through.
After I have Peyton wrapped up in a blanket, I head into the living room and see Eric is standing by the door with his jacket on waiting for me. “We’ll have to be quick about this,” he mutters lowly, like the seriousness of what we’re about to do is finally settling in.
“I know, and we will. We’ll get out of this, Eric.”
He turns to look toward me, scans over my body. “You’re sure you want to do this? You want to leave?”
Immediately I nod. “I can’t stay here anymore . . . I can’t . . . not with . . . not with the t-things . . .” I lose track of my words as a chill runs through me at the memories.
A hand over my mouth. Cloth being wrapped around my eyes so I couldn’t see. The hand being replaced with duct tape, and then hands . . . so many hands going over my body. It was hands . . . and then it was other things . . . then my clothes were being cut off and . . .
Eric’s fingers against my cheeks pull me back into reality as he wipes
