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"I want to see her before I say anything to your people."
"Don't worry," he said, a sliver of something dangerous in his innocuous words. "You will."
The guard behind her wrapped his arm like an iron bar across her chest and held her tight enough that she couldn't pull free. He slapped his other hand across her mouth. She bit down on the soft fleshy part of his palm, but it was too late. Jarrod picked up a syringe from the fireplace mantle and shoved it into the vein at the crook of her elbow.
Whatever it was, it hurt as it burned its way through her. She opened her mouth to scream, but suddenly it seemed like doing so would take too much energy. The tension in her body seemed to melt away and a cotton-swab soft fog wrapped itself around her.
"Don't worry," Jarrod said. "It's just a sedative to keep you nice and calm while you get ready for the wedding."
"You promised." The words came out slow and a little slurred.
"Yes. But after receiving a vision, I knew what I had to do." That fanatical gleam came into his eyes, making them sparkle as if he was powered by an other-worldly source. "Having you apologize isn't enough. You have to make up for your transgression. How better to show your remorse than to submit as only a wife of mine can?"
This was bad—very bad. He wouldn't be so happy if it wasn't, but she couldn't wrap her addled brain around it. "What are you talking about?"
"A double wedding, of course. There’s no better way to show my strength and the truth of my word than having those who defied me voluntarily repent and pledge their devotion to the true believers."
Panic shot through her. "You crazy bastard."
His hand sailed through the air and his palm connected with her cheek. Pain exploded in her head. If the bodyguard hadn't still been holding her up, she would have ended up on the floor.
"Watch that mouth of yours." Jarrod loomed over her, anger leaving red blotches on his cheeks. "I've been exceedingly tolerant of you up until now. Don't expect it to last. Karen!"
A woman rushed through a door next to the fireplace. She had a white cap on her head and a plain brown dress that covered her from throat to ankle.
"You have two hours to get her ready." Jarrod picked up a second syringe from the fireplace mantle and handed it to the woman. "If she starts getting mouthy, give her another shot."
The woman nodded but kept her eyes downcast.
The guard half pulled/half walked her toward the door. Although fear and pain had helped clear the fog, Tamara kept her face slack. Isaac and the rest of the team would be here in a matter of hours. She had until then to find Essie and prepare her to get the hell out of there. If Jarrod and his goons thought she was woozy, that could only help her cause. She just prayed Jarrod hadn't lied about Essie still being at the compound.
Tamara staggered through the doorway and into the other room with almost all of her attention focused downward. She was only partially faking how hard the drug had hit her. Whatever the fuck Jarrod had used, she sure as hell did not want a second dose.
"Aunt T!"
Tamara’s head snapped up and she fought back the instant wave of relief at seeing the one person she’d desperately wanted to find on the compound. "Essie!"
The girl rushed to her side and wrapped her arms around Tamara's waist. Tamara buried her face in Essie's blonde hair and couldn't stop the tears when she smelled the girl's favorite vanilla shampoo. She must have finagled her way into packing a few things before they'd left Hamilton, which explained how she'd managed to sneak her phone onto the compound. Essie’s plan hadn't worked, but the girl was definitely a fighter and that would serve her well when the shit hit the fan.
Essie pulled back and Tamara got her first good look at her niece. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but there weren't any bruises or other visible signs of abuse.
"Are you okay?" Tamara asked.
The girl nodded. Her face was clean of makeup and she was wearing a simple white dress, both of which made her look even younger than her sixteen years. The steely determination in her eyes didn't say kid, though. That was the look Amelia had worn when she'd made Tamara promise to keep Essie safe from Jarrod. The man didn't know what he was in for.
Tamara took a quick look around the room. There was a narrow bed against one wall and a trio of women huddled in the corner wearing drab brown dresses with their hair pulled back under white caps. One of the women had tears in her eyes. She gave Tamara a sympathetic nod and dropped the unused syringe into the trash can beside the vanity table. The women might be in the Society, but that didn't mean they were here any more voluntarily than she and Essie were.
"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Essie said in a hopeless whisper. "He's making you marry him."
Tamara brushed the girl's hair back and kissed her forehead. "It's not your fault. And I'm not marrying him—and you're not marrying…"
"Phillip." Essie rolled her eyes.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, the typical teenage reaction made Tamara chuckle. "Well, Phillip is out of the picture. We just need to play along for a little while until help arrives."
"How do you know someone's coming?"
Tamara squeezed Essie's shoulders. "Because he'll always be there."
