To the Ends of the Earth

by Skye Warren

  A man in a suit speaks into a microphone, rallying the crowd to louder and louder heights. The sound becomes waves, crashing over me. It’s impossible to speak to Allie, even yelling. I can’t even think with this much commotion around me, sweeping me up into its frenetic energy. It feels like the exorcisms Leader Allen would do, his violence turning the crowd into a mob. In fact, that’s who the other fighter’s eyes remind me of—Leader Allen’s, hollow and reptilian. He takes off his robe, revealing ropes of muscle layered on top of each other. He’s in the corner nearest me, so I can’t see his face.

  The only comfort is West, the guard, who stands a few rows back from me.

  I’m grateful to Luca for sending him to guard me.

  The buzzer goes off, and the fight begins.

  Both men circle each other, throwing easy hits that aren’t returned. They’re testing each other. I’ve watched Luca fight all week. I know his style. He’s holding back plenty.

  Then suddenly everything shifts, and the other man lunges for Luca. A solid hit, which whips around Luca’s large body. When he straightens, his lip is bloody—and there’s a feral gleam in his eyes. As if that taste of blood is all he needed to attack.

  Luca pulls a combination move that has the other man staggering against the ropes.

  But he’s up again and coming back at Luca. They’re well matched, both of them at the top of their games. The best in this underground fighting world. Head to head. I cringe every time the other man lands a punch on Luca, wince when he takes a fall.

  I’m close enough that I see the other man knee Luca’s groin.

  I call out as if I can somehow fix it.

  Colin’s shouting, his face a mask of fury. The ref calls a time and gives the other man a warning. But if there was any doubt, now I know he’ll fight dirty.

  They wear each other down, both of them violent and ferocious. It’s painful to watch, but I can’t look away. This is the man I love—

  The thought stops me cold. This is the man I love.

  Do I love Luca? I’m not sure, but I can’t stand the thought of him being hurt.

  The other man has to head back to his corner. That’s when I get a clear view of his face, a spotlight flashing over those features so like mine. Alex. My brother. My heart stops. How is that possible? No wonder the men working with Luca didn’t see him. He’s not a spectator.

  He’s a fighter.

  Then something gold and shiny catches my eye. It’s on the other man’s hand. A ring? My stomach drops. No. Brass knuckles. He’ll hurt Luca. He’ll kill him!

  I take a step toward the ring, determined to do something. I don’t know if anyone else has seen them, but it’s way too loud to hear anything. I have to help him.

  A hand on my arm pulls me back.

  West. He frowns at me, his mouth forming words.

  I yell at him. “Luca’s in trouble. Brass knuckles! My brother!”

  He doesn’t understand, so I point to my knuckles. His eyes widen. He mouths the words, Stay here. And only because I think he’s probably right do I listen. I’m afraid that if I climbed into the ring, I’d distract Luca—giving the other man the perfect opening. He needs real help, someone strong, someone who can fight.

  West heads for the ring, but two security men block him.

  He exchanges rapid words with them before shaking his head in disgust. He starts to turn away—where is he going? He’s circling the ring, I realize, heading for Colin. Colin sees him coming, knows there’s a problem, but he doesn’t know what.

  That’s when Alex’s fist comes up in the air, flashing the spotlight back in the crowd. Everyone can see the brass knuckles, but it’s too late.

  “Luca,” I scream.

  My warning is swallowed by the crowd. The other man’s fist hits Luca’s face in a spray of blood, and I scream again, wordless and horrified. No no no.

  I surge forward, desperate to be near Luca, to protect him.

  The crowd surges forward, multiplying the chaos. The men who’d been guarding the stage area scramble, some heading into the ring to help, others mixing with the crowd. With the smoke and the shadows, it’s impossible to see Luca.

  An arm wraps around my waist, and I struggle, thinking it’s another one of the guards with West. Maybe the man guarding Allie, maybe Allie herself. I fight, but the hold is like iron—it drags me back and back. We don’t head to the seats, but instead out of the exit. The arm over my waist is covered in some kind of silky material. A robe.

  I look over my shoulder, into the face of my brother. Alex.

  Every part of me feels cold, the same desolate winter I felt in the prayer sessions. Oh God. He’s wearing his robe again, somewhat disguised to the crowd. But no one’s even looking at us. Everyone’s focused on the ring.

  “Luca,” I scream again, this time my voice raw with hopelessness.

  It doesn’t matter. He can’t hear me. He’s down on the mats, his large body obscured as men crowd into the ring. Is he alive? I can’t tell. I don’t know. Then we’re through the doors. They swing closed in front of me, blocking out the sight of Luca. Turning down the volume.

  “Let me go,” I whisper. “Alex, please.”

  My brother’s voice is grave. “I’m here to save you, sister.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Alex drags me toward the exit, but there’s already a crowd gathered. The doors slam open as paramedics wheel a stretcher inside. My brother makes a growling sound, before dragging me the other way. The only door left leads into a locker room.

  He uses a loose pipe throw the metal handle to lock us inside.

  “Alex,” I say, my voice shaking. “What are you doing?”

  “I told you,” he says, pulling something around my wrists. “I’m saving you.”

  “You’re kidnapping me.”

  He laughs shortly. “Kidnapping. One of the milder crimes I’ve been accused of.”

  “Leader Allen turned you into a monster.”

  “Leader Allen was the monster,” he snaps.

  My mouth closes. I hadn’t realized he knew that. “He was.”

  “He deserved to die. I should have killed him.”

  “Alex…if you think that, then why have you been searching for me?”

  “To get you away from those…those heathens! Do you think they’re any better, sister? They’ll rape you and throw you away. I saw the way he kept you, never letting you out of his sight. Like some pet.”

  Like a little bird he had caged.

  Except Luca had every chance to hurt me. Instead he wanted to heal me. “So you’re going to keep me in this locker room forever?”

  “Better here than with him,” he snaps.

  “He doesn’t hurt me.”

  A makes a rough sound. “You sin with him. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I realize Alex is like me—broken by our past, unable to shake the chains. We know that Leader Allen was wrong, but we can’t forget all the lessons. “It isn’t a sin.”

  And in that moment, I know it’s true. Love can’t be a sin.

  My brother snarls. “I killed him so he couldn’t touch you again.”

  I’m stricken. Is he dead? “You’re sick.”

  He paces away from me. “Sick. Sick. Sick. That’s what he called me. Sick.”

  I blink, confused. Alex was always the perfect soldier for Leader Allen. That’s what he called them—soldiers. His spiritual army. “Who called you sick?”

  “Leader Allen. And he was right. I’m disgusting.”

  I wriggle my fingers behind my back, but the rope is tight. I can’t break free. “Why are you disgusting?”

  “For what I want.” His eyes plead with me. “For what I still want. I can’t get away from it. The sin. The pleasure.”

  I swallow past the knot in my throat. “Alex. Leader Allen hurt me. He…” My eyes close against the truth, but the darkness only makes it more real. “He touched me.” I open my eyes again, seeing the same shame reflected back at me. “Did he hurt you
too?”

  “You don’t understand,” he whispers.

  “What don’t I understand?”

  He comes and lays his head in my lap. “I wanted it.”

  “Oh, Alex,” I whisper brokenly. “I’m sorry.”

  And I am sorry. Even if he killed Luca. I can’t hate him for what Leader Allen turned him into. Mostly I forgive him. That’s what Allie said to me. That’s all I can do.

  “Don’t be,” he snaps, rearing back. “The devil’s inside me.”

  “Leader Allen’s the only one inside you, whispering all those horrible things to you.”

  Alex’s face is pale, making him look younger than me instead of older. “I’m gay, Sarah Elizabeth. He said that if I did everything he told me, that he could cure me. That he could fix me. But now he’s gone and I’m still sick.”

  There’s a bang on the door, so loud and fierce that we both jump.

  “Beth!”

  Luca’s voice washes over me like salvation. He’s alive!

  Although he probably should be lying down, not running around a crowded warehouse. And he definitely shouldn’t be chasing after my brother in his condition.

  And I realize something else—Luca will kill him. Taking him in alive, turning him over to the authorities. Those things might have been possible if Alex was apprehended by one of the men at the entrance. Maybe even after the dirty fight.

  But now he’s kidnapped me. Luca will never let him live.

  “Let me go,” I say urgently. “It’s only a matter of time until he gets in here.”

  Alex pulls out a gun. “You think I don’t have a backup plan?”

  My mouth goes dry. “Please, no.”

  He looks at me with such solemn sorrow, the crowds of religious furor clearing for a moment, and I know I’m seeing my brother for maybe the first time. “Do you really want him?”

  I really want him, with every scar and shadow he comes with. “Yes.”

  His gaze lingers on the gun, contemplative, his hold turning sideways. “Then there isn’t anything left on this earth for me to do, is there?”

  Horror seizes me as I realize how he plans to end this.

  “There’s not just hope for her,” I say, urgent as more banging comes from the door. I twist my hands, managing not to wince at the harsh burn against my wrist. If I strain, I can just barely reach the knot with my fingers. “There’s hope for us too. You. Me. We can live normal lives, too.”

  He laughs, harsh and cold. “We’ll never be normal.”

  I know that now. It was a false dream. I came from Harmony Hills, both the good and the bad. That’s my history. We can’t ever escape our memories, not really, but we can learn from them. And we can go on living.

  “I know it won’t be easy, but we can find a new faith. One that works for us. And maybe, with time, we can…” I close my eyes, knowing this is the answer. And the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do. “We can forgive.”

  “You’re lying,” he snarls. “You’re delusional.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe I finally learned the lessons. Not of Leader Allen, but the Bible itself. What it was trying to tell us all along.”

  Alex turns the gun to himself. “It’s just an old book, Sarah Elizabeth.”

  The gun expands from half an inch to fill the whole room. It’s all I can see, because for maybe the first time ever, I understand forgiveness. It’s not only Leader Allen I need to forgive, not only Alex. It’s myself. I don’t only need to live for Delilah. I want to live for myself, for Luca. I want to live for the sake of living, for the beauty and the evil and every shade in between. I want to take a bite of the apple, because it’s the only thing that matters.

  “Call me Beth,” I say gently, working furiously at the knot. “That’s my name now.”

  “You can’t just change your name,” he says, pleading, hands sharking violently as he stares down the barrel. “You can’t just go on with your life like none of it happened. Like it doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters, Alex. It matters so much sometimes that you’d rather die than go on living. I understand that. And I’m grateful that I had Delilah to keep me holding on during those times.”

  His eyes are bleak. “And what do I have?”

  The rope falls to the floor. “You have me.”

  I put my palm up, waiting. I won’t fight him. I wouldn’t win. He has to choose this—choose family, choose life. One breathless moment, then two. He sets the gun down on the floor and takes my hand.

  The door bursts open.

  Luca rushes into the door, looking like a wild bull on a rampage. He’s covered in blood and bruises, his face twisted in a snarl. He’ll kill Alex with his bare hands. He reaches him before I do, throwing a punch that sends Alex back into the lockers.

  I throw myself in front of my brother, because sometimes you have to forgive. You have to make your own faith in this crazy world we live in. And I believe in Luca.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Waves send music through the open window. The smell of salt floats in on the breeze. Three weeks in paradise and I still marvel at every moment. Hawaii is a land of ocean and lava, of sand and stone. A crack in the earth built for us. After my brother agreed to work for Ivan—a kind of criminal penance, after I got Delilah back from a tearful Candy, we made our own Eden.

  “Slow,” he says.

  I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. And I don’t have any patience left. I push my hips down, only to wince. He’s too large.

  “Slow,” he says, sharper this time. His hands grasp my hips, holding them in place.

  So far we’ve done everything but sex, again and again, in every position possible. He wanted to explore my body; he wanted me to explore his. Until I’m begging to feel him. There’s an ache deep inside me that only he can fill.

  I’m on top of him, knees spread wide over his hips. “I can’t.”

  “We can wait, little bird.”

  “No, I want—I need—”

  His laugh is unsteady. “I know what you want. But you’ll get it when you’re ready. And that means you taking me inside your body without pain.”

  I’m ready for him now. And being with a man this big would always hurt a little. I close my eyes and focus on the sensations, on the stretch. And then I do what he told me to—I go slow, sinking down on him, impaling myself by degrees.

  When he’s fully seated, shivers run over my skin.

  My eyes fly open, meeting his green regard. “I love you,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t seem surprised. “I know.”

  “How?”

  “I knew in the hotel suite in Chicago. When I touched your pretty little clit.” He demonstrates by rubbing his thumb over my clit. “You wouldn’t have given yourself to me if you didn’t love me.”

  I experiment with moving my hips, gasping at the thickness of him. “I offered myself to you at my apartment.”

  “That was different. That was payment.”

  I bite my lip. “What’s this, then?”

  His hands grasp my hips, and he thrusts up. “This is pleasure.”

  “It may be pleasure, but we still had a deal.”

  His expression grows dark. “I’d take you anywhere you want to go.”

  “And you’d leave me there.”

  He stills, his hands tightening on my hips. “I didn’t promise.”

  “Could you do it? Would you leave me?”

  A shudder runs through him. “I’d sooner rip off my arm.”

  “Good,” I whisper, lifting myself and sinking down again. Because I had found my prince. He didn’t have blond hair or a white horse. He had green eyes and a mean left hook. And he had slayed every one of my dragons. “Because if you left, I’d follow you.”

  He closes his eyes briefly, as if in pain. “God, Beth. Fuck.”

  I smile, because Delilah’s still with Candy and Ivan in their villa. She can’t hear him swear. “Now say it.”

  His eyes narrow. “Say what?” />
  “You know what.” And I roll my hips as punishment for making me wait. The way he gasps makes me feel powerful. I want to explore this newfound sensual strength.

  He grits his teeth, flexing inside me. His eyes meet mine. “I love you, little bird.”

  And I realize that I’m not surprised either. “I know.”

  A rough laugh. “I’ve loved you from the moment you stood in that doorway with a shotgun in your hand. And I would have followed you anywhere. God help me, I still will.”

  I meet my lips to his, promising him without words that I’m here, that it’s all right—that he might follow me, but I will lead him wherever we’re meant to go.

  Epilogue

  The sweet ache of red bean paste fills the bungalow, wafting into the living room where I’m reading a book. A timer dings from the kitchen, and I cross to check on the buns. I learned how to make Anpan from the woman two doors down from me, a young woman with dreadlocks and a gorgeous island accent.

  Mine aren’t as good as hers, but the crust is golden and the red bean paste has caramelized where it’s seeped from the bun. I pull them from the oven, moving them onto a rack to cool.

  Then I push open the screen door to find my small family.

  The island air lifts my hair around me, an ordinary magic. Small black gravel fades into pale sand. I hear them first—a small baby voice wafting in on the breeze. A lower voice answering her. Delilah took to the ocean like a mermaid, more comfortable swimming than walking. She’ll go as far out into the sea as we let her.

  Right now she’s on land, her tanned legs dusted with a fine layer of sand. Her turquoise swimsuit has ruffles at her waist. A white cotton hat sits atop her dark curls, protecting the pale skin of her face.

  Luca lounges opposite her, his skin dark after weeks on the island. His broad shoulders and muscled abs are covered with scars and faded tattoos, remnants of his former life. And on his chest, over his heart, are the fresh lines of a sparrow in flight.

  “This is A,” he says, drawing the letter in the sand with his finger.

  She makes a slanted copy. “Apple.”

  He draws a B beside it. “B. B is for blueberries. And bananas. And bedtime.”