Then he turned toward me and aimed the gun at my head.
My entire body went cold.
Henry fought against his restraints, his voice muffled through his gag.
“An eye for an eye,” Josiah whispered as he moved his finger to the trigger.
But I didn’t look away.
If he was going to kill me, I wanted him to look me in the eye as he did it.
Several protracted moments passed as he applied pressure to the trigger.
Then a loud bang reverberated through the room.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Henry
The sound of the gunshot cracked through the chapel like lightning splitting the sky.
For one horrible second, I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.
My eyes locked on Ariana, waiting for blood. For her body to crumple.
But it never happened.
She remained kneeling, no blood pouring from her head as I had feared.
Relief crashed through me so hard it made me dizzy. But if Josiah’s gun didn’t have a bullet, whose did?
A sharp cry echoed in the space, several women screaming and dropping to the floor as I frantically searched the chapel for the source.
And standing beneath the arched doorway, like some sort of wrathful angel, was Blake.
I’d never been so damn happy to see another human being in my life.
He looked like hell, considering the injuries he was still healing from.
But he was here.
Just like he swore he would be if everything went to shit.
And everything had definitely gone to shit.
But I didn’t have time to reflect on that. Not with the chapel erupting into chaos as Blake stormed down the aisle. He only made it a few steps before Josiah yanked Ariana violently against his chest, one arm locking her in a bear hug while the other pulled a knife from his pocket and pressed it against her throat, the gun he’d held now several feet away.
“Take another step,” Josiah snarled, all traces of his calm preacher’s voice now gone, “and I’ll slit her fucking throat.”
Several women gasped. One even began crying harder.
This wasn’t the composed prophet they worshipped.
This was the real man beneath the mask.
