The Forsaken (The Chosen Series Book 2), Patricia Bell [e textbook reader .txt] 📗

each other, Abigail held in the strong grips of the elders, and her father held only by his own cowardice.

For a split second, Abigail thought she saw a determination in his eyes. But it was fleeting. “I am sorry, daughter.” He turned and walked away.

Abigail’s heart broke. She’d known he would not stand up for her. He didn’t for Rachel and he wouldn’t for her. But somewhere deep in the depths of her soul, she’d hoped that he would.

Pulling her arms away from the elder’s grip, she nearly spat the words, “I can walk on my own.”

She marched to the truck, climbed into the bed, and threw herself down. The elders jumped into the front, and the truck zipped away.

As the scorching wind attacked her bloody face, she cried. She would never survive out in the desert alone. She would surely die.

But as she stared out at the community, the only life she’d ever known, the vehicle did not head for the main gate. Instead, it turned to the back, around the mountain, and to the most interesting looking home. She knew where she was. Everyone knew the High Prophet lived back here, but she’d never been past the mountain that shrouded his home. She had imagined in her mind what it might look like but as she stared at it, it was nothing like she’d thought.

The yard was perfectly landscaped with shrubbery, desert plants, and a vase of the prettiest flowers she’d ever seen stood on the porch. The house was bigger than two of the community houses, and it was painted in warm browns unlike the standard white she was used to. Strange circular-shaped lights were mounted to the wall. Colorful curtains lined the windows. And the black slick vehicle that was parked in the driveway was one she’d seen before.

Before she could be mesmerized any longer, the truck pulled around to the back side of the home and parked next to a gray brick wall. The elders got out of the vehicle and she winced as the truck doors slammed. What were they going to do to her?

“Bring the girl,” Elder Aaron said as he sauntered toward the back of the home only a few feet away.

As Elder James reached for her, she pulled away, watching what Elder Aaron would do next. He walked down a small set of stairs, pushed on a spot in the wall and a square popped open, revealing a doorknob.

“Now, James. You are not afraid of a little girl, are you?”

Elder James grunted and extended his reach. He caught hold of her arm, and this time he was much rougher. She tried to pull away, but he gripped her shoulder and squeezed. A debilitating pain came over her as she cried out.

“Get out! Now!” Elder Aaron yelled.

Abigail could not move.

“James!”

Elder James hopped up into the back of the truck, picked her up, and jumped to the ground with her. All fought out, she closed her eyes as the man carried her roughly toward the back of the house. A click sounded, and she opened her eyes. With his foot, Elder James opened a tall, heavy door and deposited her roughly onto a dirt floor. Before she could move the door closed. Next, the clink of a lock.

Overwhelming darkness surrounded her. The only light was a stream that came from a small vent next to the door.

She jumped to her feet and ran to the vent. Stretching on her toes, she watched through the small grates. The truck zoomed off, kicking up dust in her bloody face. She backed away.

“Do not leave me here!” she cried out. “Someone, help!”

It was useless. No one would come and if someone did, likely it would be the High Prophet. She didn’t want to think of what that man would do if he opened the door. Likely it would not end favorably for her.

Why hadn’t they fleshed her out as they did to Rachel?

She is alive. Her father had said it, and Malachi had confirmed it.

They hadn’t meant for her to survive. But she had, and they wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

Chapter 22 ― Luna

“Luna, wait!” Jonathan yelled, but it was too late, Luna was out the door.

“Where is he?” she asked, staring at the spot she’d seen Naaman standing only seconds before.

“He must have left,” Jonathan called from behind. “Let’s go back in—”

But before he could finish, Naaman stepped out from behind a tree.

“What the—”

He walked into the street and spoke. “You both are in grave—”

A blue SUV squealed around the corner and plowed right into him. They had watched as the big man hit the bumper, flew across the hood, and landed on the street, bloody and unmoving.

“Oh, my—” Luna covered her mouth as she watched the man who had once saved her life, dead in the middle of the road.

“Luna?” a voice broke through, waking her from her nightmare. “Honey, are you okay?”

Luna opened her eyes. “Mom?” She looked around the room frantically.

“It’s me, honey. Are you okay?”

Luna shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

“It wasn’t just a dream, was it?” she whispered. “He’s really gone.”

“Yes, honey. He’s really gone. I am so sorry.”

Luna closed her eyes again. Naaman had been killed. And thanks to her, the police had nothing more to go on other than a blue SUV that had come from out of nowhere. She had been so shocked that she hadn’t even tried to get the license plate number. She couldn’t blame Jonathan. He didn’t know how things worked in the English world.

Jonathan had not spoken of the scene they’d witnessed at all. Instead, he’d pretended everything was fine. He’d gone to Todd and Hannah’s house to sleep, got up the next morning, and went to work as if nothing ever happened. Luna, on the other hand, had thrown the covers over her head and cried herself back to sleep.

She glanced at the clock. “It’s four already?” she asked.

“Yes. Jonathan should be