Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen Book 4)

by Tillie Cole

  “Just . . . return to me,” I begged again. “I . . . I need you to survive. I need you to return home.”

  “I . . . ” Rider went to speak, but his raw voice cut out. “I . . . I have no home,” he said sadly.

  Taking his hand from my face, I placed it over my racing heart. “Yes you do. Your home is right here.”

  Lost for words, Rider leaned forward and took my mouth with his lips. He kissed me hard and long and deep. “You should go before you are caught. I could not bear for you to be hurt over this,” he said.

  I did not move for a few moments, then I forced myself to lift from his lap. Rider’s hand immediately reached for my own. I smiled. His body begged me to stay even though his head told me to go.

  But what Rider had not yet realized about me was that I rarely did as I was told. It was how all my personal strife had been caused. I had never been able to toe the line.

  With my free hand, I pushed on Rider’s chest and lowered him to the ground. He tried to resist, but one look at my face made him obey. I settled down over his body and wrapped my arms around his waist. My head lay over his heart; it instantly called to my own.

  The chains rattled as Rider’s hands threaded through my hair. Then nothing was said, and the sound of the chains was quieted by stillness. I knew what I felt for him. And by the way that Rider’s hands held me close and cherished me with their touch, I knew he felt the same way too.

  But I refused to confess my love yet. That would only come when he was freed from the heavy guilt that held him in its grip. It would come when he returned to my arms.

  Because tomorrow, if he managed to save our innocent people and rid the world of Judah’s cruelty, then that would make Rider a savior . . .

  . . . no longer a destined false prophet, but a redeemed, liberated soul instead.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rider

  I watched the sun rise through the slits in the barn’s wooden walls . . . alone. Bella had left just before sunrise. She’d had to. It wasn’t safe for her to be here with me.

  Though she seemed to not care. I felt a smile pull on my mouth at how defiant I had discovered she was. When I had awoken this morning, it was to Bella peppering kisses on my face.

  I loved her. If I had not realized it before, I would have in that moment. But I’d already known. I had known it from the moment she discovered who I was and didn’t run. She wanted me, despite my transgressions.

  I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  “Return to me,” she had said as her goodbye. I had wanted to promise her I would, but deep down, I knew I couldn’t give her that vow.

  I didn’t know how long I sat watching the sun rise slowly into the sky. I heard the sound of voices outside. The lock was turned, and the door opened. I braced, ready to see the prez or VP . . . but it was neither.

  It was the brother I dreaded seeing most. It was the guy I had lied to worst . . . the one I couldn’t ever forgive myself for deceiving.

  Smiler.

  My former road brother shut the door of the barn, a bundle of black leather in his hands. I watched him walk toward me with a blank expression on his face. His hair was tied back, and he was dressed as he always was—white shirt, leathers and his Hangmen cut.

  He stopped before me and dropped the leathers to the ground. There was no cut in the jumbled mess, just a jacket, pants, boots and a black shirt.

  “Get dressed. Prez will be here in a few. You’re goin’ in first like you wanted.”

  “I know,” I replied. “AK came and told me the plan last night.”

  Smiler glared at me, then bent down and freed me from the shackles. He turned on his heel. Guilt and shame cut me down as he walked away, a stranger to me now. As he was about to reach the door, I said, “I’m sorry.”

  Smiler stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, but he was listening.

  It was something.

  I stood, kicking the heavy shackles to the floor. “I’m so fucking sorry . . . brother.”

  Smiler’s shoulders rose and fell and, shocking me all to hell, he turned and walked back toward me. His expression was stone cold, but when he stopped in front of me, he asked, “Why the fuck did you do it? Why the fuck did you give all this up, give us up? I vouched for you, man. I brought you into this club. You have any idea how fuckin’ stupid I looked when you turned out to be a rat? So why?”

  My head fell. “I don’t know.” I shook my head. “No, that’s bullshit. I do know. Now. But I fucking didn’t know that the faith I was raised in was a fucking sex ring. I had no fucking idea that everything I knew was wrong.”

  I could feel Smiler’s gaze boring through mine. “You were my best friend, Rider. You were my fuckin’ brother. I don’t let no one in. I don’t ever get close to no one. But I did you . . . and you turned out to be a fuckin’ rat.”

  “I know,” I said, feeling like shit. I raised my head. “I don’t have the words, other than I’m sorry. If I could take it back, I would in a second. I’d have stayed with the Hangmen and told them exactly who was fucking with their business. But I didn’t. And for that I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “You were never in the marines, were you? All that was just some bullshit cover story.”

  I sighed. “I never served. I learned about medicine at The Pasture. My uncle wanted me to be able to heal the people.” I gave a sardonic laugh. “He wanted me to appear Christ-like. A miraculous healer to our flock. But no, there was no military service. I never left my home once before I came here.”

  Smiler’s expression seemed to falter. But he quickly schooled his features and pointed at the clothes. “You better get dressed. Prez is sendin’ you in soon. And Rider?” I tipped my chin in response. “You better not fuck this up, and it better not be another fuckin’ trap.”

  “It isn’t. You have my word.”

  “Well your word ain’t shit to me now. But I’ll promise you one thing.” He stepped right up to me. “If you lure us into a trap, if this is some fucked-up Oscar-worthy act . . . I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself.”

  With that, my former best friend walked out of the barn. I threw on the clothes. As the familiar feel of leather smothered my skin, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Right. All this shit felt so fucking right.

  The sound of voices came from the front of the barn. The door slammed open. Tank stood in the doorway. “Get the fuck out,” he ordered.

  The biker boots that felt so fucking good on my feet sounded like thunder on the old floor of the barn. The comforting smell of leather drifted to my nose, calming my nerves. When I reached the door and stepped outside, all the brothers were gathered around . . . all standing around a fucking matte-black and chrome chopper.

  The same model I used to own.

  Smiler flicked the keys at me. Ky approached me, getting right in my face. He cast his disgusted gaze over my leathers. “This ain’t no fuckin’ welcome-home gift, you got that, dickhead? This is so you get the fuck in that place undetected, and so we can trace your every fuckin’ move.”

  Vike tapped the tank of the chopper. “GPS. What a fuckin’ good stalkin’ invention.”

  Ky’s chest bumped into mine. “One turn you shouldn’t make, any sign that you’ve jumped ship and joined your long-lost fuckin’ Manson family, and we’ll know about it.” His mouth went to my ear. “And then we’re comin’ for you, and your kiddie-fiddler brother.”

  My jaw clenched. “I won’t fuck up,” I said. “I want those people saved. And I want all the other fuckers dead. And Judah . . . ” I forced the words from my mouth. “You get him. As promised.”

  Styx clapped Ky on the shoulder. Ky moved aside, and Styx signed, “AK decided to give you a four-hour head start to get your part in this done. We’ll be right on your heels to come do ours. That entrance better be open like you said, and if there’s anyone in our way—kid, bitch or dick—we’ll fuckin’ mow ‘em down. Got it?”

  I nodded my head. Styx s
tayed planted in front of me for several seconds, fucking eyeballing me to push home his point. I glared back. The prez smirked, then stepped out of my way.

  I threw my leg over the chopper’s saddle. It took about two minutes for muscle memory to return and find my seat. I slid the keys into the ignition. As the engine roared to life, I noticed Bull up ahead on his Harley.

  “Bull will drive you out to make sure there’s no fuckin’ detour. Then you’re on your own until we arrive,” Styx signed. “Don’t fuck up.”

  Nodding, I revved the engine. Bull pulled out onto the narrow graveled road that led from the barn to the clubhouse. As the chopper cruised along the path, I focused on the task ahead.

  In a matter of hours, it’d all be done.

  I ignored the pit that was caving in my stomach. I had about an hour’s ride until the shit hit the fan. I intended on just riding. Nothing was simpler than when it was just me and the open road.

  I’d forgotten all this, how good this freedom felt, when I became the prophet. But I made a promise to myself to never forget it ever again.

  *****

  When I arrived at the fence, I felt nothing but relief. The wire had been cut as planned—Samson and Solomon had done their job. This fence was at the opposite end of the commune to the one we had escaped from yesterday. Just in case.

  I slid through the fence and began tracking my way through the trees. With every step my heart pounded harder and harder. I willed myself to keep going, picturing Bella’s face in my mind.

  This has to be done, I told myself. My feet faltered when I thought of yesterday. When, as Judah was tied up, knocked out from my punch, we had managed the switch . . .

  *****

  Yesterday . . .

  “You ready?”

  I nodded at Solomon and took in a deep breath. Harmony had just been taken away for her wedding preparations. When Sarai had come to collect her, it had taken all of my willpower not to jump from my cell and slit the bitch’s throat.

  But what haunted me most was the sadness in Harmony’s eyes as she left my cell. I hadn’t been able to comfort her. I was too wired. I needed to make this plan work. I had to be the one to meet her at the altar. I couldn’t let her be under Judah’s hand—no cause was worth that.

  Solomon left the cell, and I sat down. And I waited. There wasn’t anything inside me that doubted Judah would come. I wasn’t stupid enough to think it was out of love. Judah would come here for his own selfish pride.

  He’d come to celebrate his victory of breaking me . . . then I’d take him down.

  Brother Stephen appeared at the doorway, a cloth in his hand. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  I nodded. “You have the chloroform?”

  “Yes,” he replied and held up the white rag. I had been amazed at what the defectors had managed to smuggle in from Puerto Rico. “Cain . . . maybe it is best if we . . . take him out now . . . permanently.”

  His suggestion immediately filled me with such emotion I could barely breathe. I shook my head. “If we want the Hangmen onside, we need to keep him alive. He is the leverage. Believe me, there are more than just us who want him dead.” Inhaling, I said, “Keep him sedated. Make sure he looks like me. I will convince the Hangmen to return before the four days of the celestial cleansing are over. No one should look for him in that time. And I can come back in and free the people. I will assure the guards and people that I have exorcised the devil from Harmony in record time and that she is resting. They’ll be too blinded by my success to doubt me . . . at least for the time we will need for everything to work.” I sighed. “I will order the people to the far side of the commune, where they will be safe. I will gather the guards and elders somewhere the Hangmen can find them.” My jaw clenched. “Then I will hand Judah to them too. They will take it from there.”

  Brother Stephen nodded.

  “Are you sure you all want to do this?” I asked. “It’s risky. So many things could go wrong. Are you prepared for the punishment that could fall on you if we fail?”

  “I am ready. I am ready to die if that should happen too.” He gave me a watery smile. “I have failed my daughters too many times to count. I will not fail this time.”

  “And Sister Ruth?” I said. Something flashed behind Brother Stephen’s eyes at the question “She has her reasons to fight too. She is ready for whatever the stars have planned for us.”

  I heard the sound of people approaching outside. Brother Stephen met my eyes, silently wishing me luck. He shut the door, and I moved to the corner of the room. I waited.

  The door burst open and, without looking up, I could sense it was my brother. Slowly, I lifted my head. Judah glared at me through narrowed eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in his wedding tunic. I was relieved. So far the plan was working.

  “Judah,” I whispered, ensuring my voice was raw and vulnerable. “Thank you for coming.”

  Judah didn’t say anything at first. When I shifted to my knees, Judah staggered back. But I kept my head down and gradually lifted my hand. This was how our scholar had always told us to greet my uncle. It showed his supremacy over us all.

  Our submission.

  A long breath escaped Judah’s mouth. I almost screamed as I recognized that sound of victory. I had told Judah so many times in our lives that he let his pride blur his vision, govern his choices.

  It was what I relied on for this moment.

  His hand reached out and landed on my head. For a moment, feeling his touch, my confidence waned. But I closed my eyes tightly and brought Harmony’s brave yet fearful face to mind.

  I had to do this for her.

  “You have chosen to repent?” Judah asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I want to repent for doubting our ways . . . I . . . I have thought and thought of what I have done to you, to our people. And I cannot . . . I cannot . . . ” I let my words fade on a choked cry.

  “Look up,” Judah commanded.

  I lifted my head. I studied Judah’s face, his hair. I drank in how he was wearing his tunic. Everything I possibly could. “My brother,” I whispered, forcing tears to my eyes. “My prophet.”

  Judah’s eyes flared at my reverence, and his hand tightened in my hair. He kneeled down, placing his face directly in front of mine. Judah’s hand drifted down my face then fell to land on my shoulder. My chest squeezed as he touched me. But all I could think of was what Sister Ruth had made me realize days ago.

  Judah had never cared for me.

  This act of affection was all for power. Everything he did was calculated. Measured for his optimum gain.

  Nothing was pure in his soul . . . not anymore.

  “I have missed you, brother,” he said, and a smile formed on his lips. “When I was told you wanted to repent, I had to come and see you. I never wanted to hurt you, brother. But I had no choice. You pushed my hand.”

  “I know that now. I understand.”

  His head tilted to the side. “And you will adhere to our practices?”

  Bile rose in my throat, but I forced myself to nod my head. “Yes,” I said. “I will fall into line . . . I will stand proudly by your side. You were always the one who should have been our leader. I see that now.”

  Judah’s nostrils flared in triumph.

  “And after my isolation period with the Cursed has ended, you will take a consort in my honor?” I nodded my head. Judah leaned forward. “You will awaken a child in my honor? We have three that have been prepared for next week’s post-wedding celebration.”

  My cheek twitched as a sudden, blistering anger roared through me. But I quelled it enough to say, “Yes. I would do anything for you. Anything.”

  Judah opened his mouth to say something else, when a loud crash came from the entrance of the cell and I heard Solomon and Samson raise their voices as if they were under attack. Judah’s attention snapped to the open door. “What the—?” he began, and I launched from the floor and tackled him to the ground.

  Judah�
��s wide shocked eyes were the last thing I saw as I raised my clenched fist and slammed it against his jaw. Judah lost consciousness immediately. I was careful where I’d hit him. I couldn’t draw blood and stain his pristine white tunic.

  “Now!” I called out and several feet immediately came rushing into my cell. Brother Stephen smothered Judah’s mouth with the chloroform-coated rag. Solomon and Samson helped me rid Judah of his clothes. In minutes I was dressed in the tunic and Sister Ruth had applied the makeup to my bruised skin. Judah was now dressed in my filth-ridden pants.

  My heart pounded as adrenaline rushed through me. Sister Ruth stepped back, water filling her eyes. “Well?” I asked. “Will I pass as him? The bruising is not too much?”

  Sister Ruth looked down to the unconscious Judah on the ground, and then back to me. “The guards have not harmed your face too badly in recent days, so it is fine.” She paused, then said, “The two of you are completely identical in every way . . . it is . . . it is astonishing.” I breathed out a sigh of relief, but Sister Ruth’s sudden sadness touched something inside me. She did not belong in a place like this. Her soul was too kind, too tender. She only looked to be in her late thirties. If I could just pull this off, she could have a life outside. A good, happy life.

  Another reason why I couldn’t fail.

  “Brothers Luke, Michael and James were in the prophet’s quarters when I collected him,” Solomon said. “They have already gathered the people for the ceremony. Judah told the brothers he would be back, then they would go straight to the altar.”

  I cast a glance down at my unconscious brother. “We will be fine,” said Brother Stephen. I inhaled deeply. Just as I was about to leave, he said, “Protect her, Cain. Take her back to her sisters . . . Just get her to a better life.”