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43
BRYNN
Brynn awoke cocooned in warmth the next morning. Aaron’s hot breath tickled her shoulder and his steady heartbeat thrummed against her ear. His fingers traced lazily from her shoulder to her lower back, grazing the raised scars. He held her so completely, as if he cherished her. And the gift he’d given her last night went beyond pleasure but showed his true dedication to her happiness. She’d never had anyone besides her sister care about her joy. I love him. The words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t say it without knowing if he felt the same way. But she could give him one gift.
“Can I tell you something about my past?”
He kissed her jaw. “Of course.”
“When my sister tried to leave and they found her, they dragged her into the center of the compound and called everyone out of their homes. The sun was just coming up and it was so cold.” Brynn closed her eyes, seeing the horrible memory, as if it happened just yesterday.
Aaron’s hand stilled, as if he was too scared to move in case it caused her to shut down.
“Her name was Brynna.”
“That’s why you chose Brynn?”
She opened her eyes and nodded. “I’ll never forget the complete and utter terror on her face when the prophet had Brynna’s husband beat her in front of everyone.”
Brynn’s body tensed, and she slammed her eyes closed again, fighting off the tears. Her stomach roiled.
Aaron’s strong arms tightened around her as he recommenced the soothing circles with his hand on her back.
“They stripped her naked and whipped her. That was the first time I stood up and said anything. She was always the one protecting me—my little sister. But it was my job, and I failed her. She’d asked me to run with her, but I had David—I mean Danielle. I was so scared they would take him from me. I didn’t have any skills, or proper schooling. No money. If it had been just me to worry about, I would have gone with her.”
“That sounds like an impossible choice,” Aaron said, his voice free of blame.
“Because I spoke up, my husband, the prophet’s son, dragged me to her. They accused me of conspiring with her, and not telling them—which was true. They whipped us.” Brynn snuggled closer into his chest, holding on to her one sense of calm.
Aaron’s grip was like iron, his muscles tense as a low growl rumbled in his chest. She could still smell the scent of blood in the air, hear her sister’s screams. She could still taste her own salty tears, and feel the blinding burn of the whip as it split her flesh.
“We were separated after that. I didn’t see her for two months, and when I did, she was a shell of the person she’d been. Her bruises fresh, and her body nearly a skeleton. She didn’t even look up at me when I called her name. She was . . . a ghost. Not the defiant, free spirit who I knew and loved. They broke her.”
Aaron pulled in a ragged breath. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I still stayed.” The confession left her, the weight of her shame bearing down.
“It doesn’t sound like you had a choice.”
“You don’t understand. I stayed for years after that. My sister . . . I found her . . . She’d hung herself in the tree we used to play at when we were kids.” Pain lanced Brynn’s heart, but her voice was emotionless, her body numb at the memory.
Aaron rolled over, cupping her face as he looked into her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“How can you say that?”
“You and your sister were victims in a horrible situation. You were brainwashed and abused. They used fear to control you. That’s on them. Not you.”
“But—”
“Do you blame Brynna?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No. Of course not.”
“Why?”
She struggled. “I see what you’re trying to do, but Brynna tried to leave. I didn’t.”
“But you did. You’re here now. You got you and Dani out of that place.”
