Page 91 of Anchored to the Storm

Styx made fists. “Little girl toys and clothes.”

“The pastor has another little girl in there?”

“No. They combed the house for a victim as soon as they noticed the items.”

Not only were these men watching over my extended family, but they had already cased a house that my fellow fosters were about to invade, rage owning them.

It was like witnessing a bomb go off inside my friends. Any trigger that had been spared evaporated. The Misfits no longer cared if they got caught. They wanted blood.

Now in the light of security cameras, four large Sinners were tackling the broken-hearted souls. My boys put up a fight because they were slightly unhinged.

Just then, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. It was Sarah sneaking across a street and to the fencing…

“M-must save h-her.”

“Oh, my God.”

I heard Styx cursing behind me, but I had to break my promise to him. I now knew who I had to save. Pulling down my full ski mask, I ran faster than I ever had because the pastor had her in his sights. And a rifle pointed at her chest.

The child murderer sneered, “You’re the bitch who put nonsense in her head.”

Carrying a weapon had been so brand new to me. Under such immense fear, I didn’t even think to retrieve it and reacted on natural instincts. Like I had done in the water with Saleeni, time slowed. I manipulated seconds so I could beat the slug shot that had been fired. As I had from the seawall, I let my body soar like an athlete so I could be my dear friend’s shield.

When the buckshot slammed into my back, I knew I had succeeded.

I’m sorry, Saleeni.

West Nine

Gage

He’s life. . . for us. . .

Like illegal dogfighting, my father fought me. For years, I was forced into confinement to fight another innocent. Some kids pissed themselves and cried. Some were already soulless, far from the kind child they’d been born to be.

Back then, every time I lifted my fists to survive another day, it felt like another piece of any hope I had left was eaten away. But not fighting would cost me. Dad was brutally cruel with his ‘motivations’. He even forced me to beat… I can’t talk about what I was forced to do to Sam.

Once Dad finally got busted over his criminal ring of abuse, and I was taken away, I promised myself I would never be controlled again. That’s why I swung like mad when a body collided with mine, and I was tackled to the ground.

“Easy, kid,” a man ordered in a low, gritty voice. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

With no clue who was on me, I clocked him in the jaw, shouting, “Making this harder for you is all I’m gonna do, fucker!”

“Cool it, kid!”

Boom!

We both froze when a gun fired into the night. From the ground, we peered in the direction the sound had come from. What I saw was confusing. Even though it was all happening so fast, time slowed. Something began to shift inside me. It was hard to describe, but it felt like an invisible force wrapped a blanket around me. It wasn’t restraining or threatening. It was actually… comforting, even though havoc and all hell were breaking loose around me.

In disbelief, I stared at another big dude tackling the pastor—who I hadn’t even known was nearby. Then I recognized a sneaker lying on its side, with no owner.

Ethan roared, “Sarah!”

I blinked, trying to clear my mind of this calming effect I was experiencing because it was time to panic. Right? Sarah was on the ground. On her back. With someone on top of her.

That someone wasn’t moving and captured my full attention.

It had captured the attention of the man on top of me also. He sounded gutted. “No,” fell from his lips as he shoved himself to his feet. His heavy footfalls echoed in my ears as I rolled to my stomach, watching him charge toward this ‘someone’ lying over Sarah. I had to get closer.