34. Teysha

34

TEYSHA

The news is met with stunned silence.

It's unclear who's more shocked by the news—Logan or Abraham.

I'm not sure whose reaction makes me shake more. A range of emotions pass in Logan's gaze, from shock to confusion to anger of some kind. His eyes narrow, his jaw so clenched it could be wired shut.

Abraham's shock fades for confusion too, then his pointed features spread in glee. He gains a feverish gleam about him, like he's been told he's won the lottery. In his twisted view, impregnating one of his wives is one and the same.

It's an open secret that he's struggled to spread his seed. None of his wives have produced any heirs that were his. The few pregnancies that have occurred within the Chosen Saints were always the doing of other men in the family.

By virtue of carrying his child, I'm as precious as gold. I've got an upper hand that I'm hoping to use as a bargaining chip.

Me for Logan .

At least in this moment. At least 'til we can figure something else out.

Abraham won't hurt me so long as I'm pregnant… I hope.

It's a wager that could be life or death for Logan and me, but what other choice is there?

I'm finally taking the situation into my own hands. I'm exercising an agency that I haven't otherwise been afforded in what's the most difficult time of my life.

The truth is, I'm not sure who the father is. I'm barely even sure I'm pregnant. When he drove me to Mason and Sydney's house, I had asked Logan to stop by the Buy N' Save, pretending I needed more tampons. Instead I snuck off to the female health section and snagged a couple pregnancy tests. While he left to handle his business, I took the tests in the bathroom of Mason and Sydney's house.

All four came back positive.

It made sense given how emotional and sick I've become over recent weeks. It hadn't even been a consideration I'd thought of until Sydney's bachelorette party. As my belly churned at the taste of wine and the smells of the cheeses available, I realized something was up. Something was wrong if I couldn't even handle a tiny bite of brie.

You'd think as a married woman, I'd be over the moon to be expecting. I'd be excited about telling my husband the news and celebrating the life we'd be welcoming in the coming months.

But I'd broken down in tears instead.

How could I be happy when a disturbing possibility hung over my head? What if… what if the baby growing inside me wasn't Logan's? What if I'd been pregnant all along and the test I'd been given when I was freed from captivity had been wrong? What if it had been too early in my pregnancy to tell and now I'm carrying someone else's baby?

Logan and I have struggled to find our footing in our marriage, and that was without the burden of pregnancy.

…without the devastating blow that I could be carrying another man's child.

There's a chance he would probably want nothing to do with the situation. Me and the baby.

My heart shrivels up every time I consider the possibility. It weighs on my mind again as I make my revelation to the two men before me.

Potential heartbreak I shove aside for the time being. Right now, I have to stay strong. I have to find a way out for Logan, distracting Abraham long enough for the Kings to arrive… which should be any minute.

Hope had gunned it down the highway. We'd gotten off early, before we hit the traffic that clogs up the highway come early evening. We took back roads at my direction that led us straight into Boulder, mere miles away from the old, abandoned church.

The MC was nowhere in sight by the time we pulled up. I sucked down some air and put a brave face on, pressing forward alone anyway.

"My sweetheart," Abraham finally says. He opens his arms. "Come to me. Come to me my precious, sweet believer. You have proved your worth to be immeasurable."

I remain where I am, my hand on my belly. "Please agree to what I said. Please… just cut Logan free. Let him walk."

The light dims on Abraham's face. "You know I won't be able to do that."

"He has no bearing on the future of our family. I will give you the heir you've wanted. Isn't that more important? "

"Teysha, what the fuck are you talking about?" Logan growls at me, jerking against his binds. "Are you crazy coming here? What have I told you? Get the hell out of here!"

"Untie him and let him walk free. Be the merciful, loving Leader—the father of my child—that I know you can be," I say gently. "You'll never see him again."

Abraham arches a white-blond brow. "Believer Teysha, you know better than to speak beyond your station. You will be rewarded if you have become pregnant with my heir, yes, but that in no way means you can decide Believer Logan's fate. Come here now. Obey or you will be punished."

"I told you the truth out of love and respect," I fib. "I was hoping you would see it as a gesture of good will."

"The child you carry is mine. Your hopes do not factor in. I will only tell you once more. Come here right now."

"Don't you fucking talk to her!" Logan barks.

I gather up nerve, ignoring how my lungs constrict. It's not easy doing what I am, telling these lies and putting on this charade. The man who really owns my heart is only a few feet away, yet he's not the one I'm about to make these confessions to. He's the one forced to listen as I tell a monster I couldn't want less how I'm here for him.

Though it's a necessary evil, it tears me up from the inside even uttering the words. I close my eyes so I won't have to look at him—either of them—and push the words out.

"I wanted to start over with you. I wanted to raise our child free of what happened in the past. I wanted us to be together without the violence and bloodshed. Does the Lord not say he examines the righteous, but the wicked, who love violence, he hates with a passion? Can you find it in your heart to be the benevolent man I know you are?'

"Believer Teysha?—"

"Please," I beg shakily, "I am devoted to you and our Lord and no one else. I… I love you."

Uncertain silence spreads around the large room in the seconds following my confession. Opening my eyes, I try my best to give Abraham a soft smile. It's broken and sad instead, reflecting the distress that's filling me up on the inside.

But Abraham doesn't care about authenticity. He doesn't care about what's real.

So long as you appeal to his ego, you present him an illusion he can buy into, then it's good enough.

He slants his head to the side, wearing suspicion on his pale face. "You are speaking candidly, Believer Teysha?"

"Yes," I gulp down air, "yes, of course."

Abraham takes another moment to consider what I've said. Behind him, Logan wriggles against his binds, creating slack, loosening the rope enough that he's able to move more. I can't see what else he's doing, but his left hand seems to be at work on something.

A knot?

His face is set in concentration, his hard eyes still on me, as if he's communicating wordlessly. He's realized what I'm doing and is telling me to keep going.

Keep Abraham distracted.

It's the encouragement, the strength he offers, that breathes new life into me.

I can do this.

"We can have a ceremony," I say, scanning the room full of antique stained glass windows and wooden pews collecting dust. "We can invite the other believers and make a joyous occasion out of it. Is this church special to you, Leader? "

He follows my gaze, turning his head for a look around. "This place? This beautiful church. It is very… meaningful. It is the place my father once gave sermons. He was a pastor. Pastor William James. A long time ago. Before the church closed its doors."

"My family used to come to this church too. I… I knew your father. He was a very kind man."

The ego-stroking words seem to win him over even more. His expression eases and he takes a step toward me. "Yes, he was, Believer Teysha. I saw you before. Did you know that? At my father's church? I saw you blossoming into a young woman—though you never saw me—but I knew, I knew one day, I would welcome you into our family. The family I created when I decided to continue my father's work. He would be so proud to see you here today."

"I'm sure he would be," I stammer.

Logan's freed his left arm. He wrenches it out of the rope, then goes still as if biding his time. He's waiting to see if Abraham's still distracted and if he can make another move. Once he deems it safe to do so, he reaches across to the other knot that's bound his right arm and begins working on it.

I breathe easier, thinking on what else to say.

But Abraham's noticed the shift of my gaze. He picks up on what it means and whips around to check on Logan.

Logan's as attuned to the situation as he is. He anticipates what to do next. As Abraham turns toward him, Logan throws a fist that lands in his gut.

Abraham doubles over, curling his arms around his mid-section. Logan uses the momentum he's gathered to strike again. He grips a fistful of Abraham's blond strands and steals the knife he's holding from his grasp.

"SAINTS!" Abraham croaks, coughing. "SAINTS! "

Before I can even react, the main doors fling open, and Amos and Hershel burst inside. They raise their rifles at us.

One aimed at Logan as he slashes himself free then holds the knife to Abraham's throat.

The other rifle's pointed at me. My stomach pits staring at the barrel that could end my life at the quick pull of a trigger.

"SHOOT THEM!" Abraham roars. "SHOOT HIM!"

"But… Leader, I'm not sure I have a clear shot," Amos says.

"Then shoot her! SHOOT HER!"

My eyes widen, and I take an anxious step back. "Please… I'm pregnant. You can't kill an unborn child…"

Hershel wavers. His hesitancy drips from him. He lowers his rifle slightly, then glances at Abraham, silently pleading for more direction.

"DO IT!" Abraham yells, bucking against Logan. The blade against his throat presses against the knob that bounces up and down with each fanatical swallow. "They must learn! They must pay for what they've done!"

Hershel double blinks, his hands shaking. "I don't know if I can, Leader. I don't think… if she's pregnant… what would the Lord say?"

"I SAID DO IT!"

"I can't… I can't… I'm sorry… I can't."

The rifle slips from Hershel's hands and thuds on the floor as he breaks into hysterical sobs, then falls to his knees, his hands covering his face.

Amos looks just as taken aback, lowering his rifle as he glances at me, then Hershel, then over at Logan pressing the blade into Abraham's throat.

"YOU COWARDS!" Abraham barks, his face reddening with manic fury. "YOU COWARDS WILL DO WHAT I SAY AND SHOOT THE?—"

Logan takes what's perhaps the greatest risk of our lives—he slashes Abraham's throat mid-sentence, despite the fact that Amos still holds his rifle and can easily go through with his leader's wishes. Blood gushes out of the slit the blade creates, and Abraham's mouth drops open in a mix of shock and pain.

For a second, he's still alive, blinking and staring, then his face goes blank and his body goes still.

"You gonna shoot me?" Logan challenges, shoving the cult leader to the ground. He beckons at Amos, his jaw clenched in defiance. "Then do it—fucking shoot me! I just killed your leader. What will you do now? Who will you take your marching orders from now?"

Amos's nostrils glare, his grip tightening on the handle of his rifle as though tempted to lift it and aim. Any second, he'll go through with it. He'll pull the trigger and shoot Logan.

A crackling explosion worthy of fireworks rocks the church. The standoff goes from tense silence and challenging glares to the four of us turning our heads in every direction to place the sudden deafening sounds.

It's coming from outside.

Gunfire.

The Steel Kings have arrived, and they're about to make quick work of the few followers Abraham has left.

It only takes Amos a second longer to make up his minds. He bolts for the door to escape.

Logan's not letting him off that easily. Not after what he's done to us and how he's served faithfully as a guard under Abraham. He launches into a sprint, scooping up the rifle that Hershel's dropped as he sobs on the floor.

He takes aim and lands the shot on Amos's retreating form. The bullet hits him in the spine and he drops to the floor in a scream of agony.

Logan turns the rifle on Hershel next, teeth gritted, sweat clinging to his face.

"P-please," Hershel begs. The elderly man holds up trembling hands. "T-they ma-made me… he-he had no other fo-followers left…"

I take a step forward. "Logan, he was a believer like us. We both remember what that was like. He didn't shoot me when he had the chance."

Logan takes another second to make up his mind before he lowers the rifle and then motions for Hershel to get out of his sight. The older man needs no further instruction as he wobbles to his feet and darts for the same side door I'd entered through.

Logan snaps into action too, heading straight for me, the assault rifle still at his side.

"C'mon," he says, scooping my hand up with his free one. "Let's get the hell out of here."