Page 21 of The Savage

All five soldiers recoil as though struck.

My heart pounds. Who is this man? Who commands armed shadows with a single word?

Why does he sound like he knows me?

He takes a step towards me slowly, as if each movement costs him something.

One hand presses to his ribs like they’re hurting.

The lantern swings, and for a fleeting second, I glimpse his jaw, his mouth, the outline of a scar near his temple.

He’s injured.

Badly.

But when he speaks again, his voice doesn’t waver. ‘For your sake,’ he says quietly, ‘for the sake of everyone in this place… come with me. Now.’ It’s a soft, deadly command writhing with savage violence.

I swallow hard. My voice is a trembling whisper. ‘Why? W-who are you? What do you w-want with m-me?’

He blinks, shakes his head.

The lantern swings again, catching his eyes – dark, burning, familiar in a way that shatters something inside me.

Someone I should know.

Someone I do not remember.

He steps closer.

A storm wearing a man’s skin.

‘Let’s go. Now.’

He moves… Looms. I stumble back, then sideways, then turn as the soldiers press in without touching me.

The wind shifts again and the smell of diesel hits me. I lift my head as the rising chop of rotor blades thrash the night apart.

The helicopter that I heard.

Dear God, this must be a nightmare.

A test. A punishment.

Seconds pass swiftly with a hand on the back of my head forcing me to duck – his hand. The click of harnesses, the scrape of metal, the unrelenting push forward. I’m shoved into a space that smells of oil and ozone and leather.

The noise becomes unbearable as the rotors roar, lifting us skyward. My stomach lurches as gravity lets go.

Lights flicker red, white, then the soft pulse of instruments. I hear a man on comms speaking low Italian, the cadence clipped, professional. ‘Package secure. Ground team following.’

Package.

That’s all I am now. An abducted package.

Something soft brushes my knee, then drops into my lap.

My bound hands reach, trace and search, and I know I’m holding my packed belongings. They brought everything. Even my rosary. For a strange moment I think that must mean I’m not being punished at all. That this is… protection. Salvation.

Or it is a hastened start of my next journey in the noviciate?