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His faith in Sabre and the Legion both comforts and terrifies me. We need to be ready when they come for us.

I take his face between my hands. “Sending those messages was incredibly brave. I’m so proud of you.”

He swats my hands away, looking bashful. “I just did what Sabre taught me. I stayed calm, shared the intel, and came prepared.”

The last two words make me suspicious. Noah glances towards the door before sitting on the floor and pulling up one pants leg. He’s got three shiny new blue throwing knives that I’ve never seen before.

I quickly pull his pants leg down in case someone walks in unexpectedly. “Where did you get those?”

“I took them from the clubhouse after knife throwing practice. I wanted to show Braden.”

“Taking knives to school is dangerous,” I say. If we get out of this, I’m going to have to have a talk with him. I continue, “Throwing knives are for sport. If they find those on you, they’ll be really angry.”

“They only patted down my jacket.” His mouth twists into a half smile. “Amateurs.”

I take his hands. I force my voice to remain calm because this is important. “I need you to listen carefully. Those aren’t dull practice knives. They’re sharp enough to cut someone. There are six grown men here and at least one of them has a gun.”

“Sabre says the element of surprise matters.”

“It does, but you can only surprise them once. After that, they’ll take those knives away. They might also decide you’re dangerous enough that you need to be restrained or taught a lesson. I don’t want to scare you, but these men are dangerous. This isn’t a game.”

Noah’s expression becomes serious as he considers the situation. I can almost see his little hamster wheels turning.

“Our job isn’t to defeat these men. Our job is to try and stay alive until Sabre and the brothers reach us if we can’t escape.”

Noah listens in silence.

“Sabre also taught you to think before you throw and gather intel before making a move,” I add. “Promise me you won’t use one of those knives unless there is no other choice. And I decide when we reach that point because protecting you is my job.”

Noah remains silent for several seconds. He doesn’t want to surrender control because he’s scared. Finally, he nods. “I promise, Mom.”

I hear my father climbing the stairs. He has a very distinctive step that I easily recognize from hearing it growing up.

I pull Noah close, afraid of what my father might do if I disobey.

My father stands beside the door frame with a lantern in his hand. My mother is beside him holding a tray of food. Her eyes glance up to meet mine for a second before she looks away. She quickly passes the tray to the young man guarding our room and goes back downstairs without saying a word. She helped set me up to be abducted by lying to me. I never realized she had such a talent for manipulation.

“You’re probably hoping someone will come and rescue you,” my father says as the young man places the tray on the dresser. “I’ll spare you the endless waiting. Nobody knows this property exists. Your outlaw friends are searching secondary roads while police search highways and bus stations. By the time anyone thinks to look at old family land, we’ll be long gone.”

“You don’t know what his club are like. They’ll come for me.”

“You need a good husband to take you in hand, Linny.”

“Dylan beat me,” I say. “He did it in a parking lot in front of half a dozen witnesses because he couldn’t control his own anger. Before that, he beat me in our kitchen for two years. That’s why I ran. Stop pretending like that didn’t happen.”

My father looks directly at me without a trace of discomfort. “The problem is, you don’t understand discipline. A man is entitled to discipline his wife.”

“Do you realize that he nearly killed me in that parking lot?”

“A husband overcorrecting is a fault. A wife running from her family is rebellion. They are not equal sins. You’d know that if you paid attention in Sunday school all those years ago.”

Noah speaks up, “Men aren’t supposed to hit women or kids,” he says clearly. “That’s not discipline. It’s just taking advantage of the fact that you’re bigger.”

My father looks at Noah with real interest for the first time. His expression warms, and that frightens me more than anger.

“There is my blood. It shows up when you talk,” he says softly. “Your mother might have taught you wrong, but the strength is still there. I’ll turn you into a God-fearing man.”

He crouches in front of Noah. “Outlaws and women have filled your head with nonsense. But you’ll soon learn that men have authority over women and children for a reason. It’s God’s will.”