Deep Redemption (Hades Hangmen Book 4)

by Tillie Cole

I opened my eyes and looked back in the mirror. My jaw tensed as I stared myself down. I pulled back my hand and slammed it into the cabinet on the wall. The contents poured out as I smashed the door from its hinges. As I focused on breathing through the pain of my broken ribs, I saw something in the sink.

  I picked up the black hair clippers and stared into the mirror. Judah and I had always had long hair. We had always had beards, just like Jesus and the disciples.

  But I didn’t want to be anything like Jesus.

  And I absolutely did not want to be like Judah.

  Without thinking, I flicked the switch and brought the clippers to my scalp. Ignoring the screaming pain of my ribs, I forced the buzzing blades through my long brown hair. With every chunk of hair that fell to the floor, a fucking strangled cry left my mouth.

  With every newly shorn section, I gritted my teeth and pushed Judah from my mind. His smiles, his laugh, his hand on my back. His excitement, his happiness . . . his fucking insanity. His victims’ faces as they cried in pain, his crazed fucking eyes . . . his nails on my skin as they clawed for me to stop . . . his glassy eyes as he died . . .

  Tears poured down my face and I watched the last of my hair fall into the sink. I moved to my beard and shaved that too. The blade wasn’t too short, so it didn’t get it all. But when I dropped the clippers, I looked at my new reflection . . . and felt everything come crashing down.

  Judah was gone. He was gone from my fucking face.

  My legs gave way and I sank to the floor. My hands landed on my head, and I screamed out all of my pain as I felt my palm meet the shorter hair. I’d wanted Judah gone . . . but I hadn’t known how much fucking pain I would feel when he finally was.

  I curled forward, rocking through the unbearable ache in my chest. “Rider!” I heard Bella call frantically. She came racing through, dropping immediately to my side. Someone else was in the doorway. I looked up; Sister Ruth was watching me fucking fall apart.

  “Rider,” Bella whispered. “What have you done?” She picked up clumps of my fallen hair.

  “I couldn’t be him anymore,” I said. “I couldn’t look in the mirror and see him. I . . . I couldn’t see everyone out there in that bar and have them see me as him . . . Grace, Lilah . . . ” I looked at my wife. “You.”

  Bella shook her head. “No, Rider. You are not your brother. No one thinks that.”

  Judah’s dying words raced through my mind . . . Evil begets evil, Cain. Whatever sin blackens my soul lives in you too. We are the same. Made the same . . . born the same . . .

  “We are,” I said. I traced the veins in my wrist with my fingers. “We share the same blood.” I shook my head. “We never knew our parents, but look at our uncle. Look at Judah . . . I am made from the same evil as they were. I can’t escape my fate.”

  I hated the helpless expression on Bella’s face. I didn’t want to hurt her even more than I already had. But . . . but . . .

  “Do you think I am evil?”

  My head snapped up to Ruth, who was standing nervously in the doorway. I frowned. “What?”

  Ruth lowered herself to the floor and sat opposite me. Bella molded herself against my side and took hold of my hand. I drew strength from her touch. She was my fucking strength.

  “Do you think I am evil?” Ruth repeated. Bella looked confused.

  “No,” I said, staring at the woman I knew almost nothing about. She looked different now, in her long skirt and shirt, from when I’d first met her. Her long brown hair was down, and her brown eyes watched me closely . . . so fucking closely.

  Ruth swallowed and lowered her eyes. “Then you are like me.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. “I don’t understand.”

  Ruth kept her eyes down. Her hands were clasped on her lap. “I was thirteen when I was taken away by my adopted older brother. My parents were never around, too busy finding their next drink to care. So he took me. He came for me and told me he had found God, and that he had been given a holy task to fulfill.”

  I completely froze as she continued.

  “He took me to Texas. I could not believe his new home when I saw it. I could not believe all the people that loved him, worshiped him . . . but my love of his home did not last.” Bella squeezed my hand so tight I thought it might cut off my blood. “Because he came for me one night. I didn’t understand what he wanted from me—his sister. But I soon found out.” She winced. “He took me to his bed . . . and . . . and . . . ” Ruth squeezed her eyes shut.

  When she lifted her head, tears were tumbling down her cheeks. “I did not know I was carrying twins. Lance, my brother, kept it from me when the medics gave me scans. I was kept away in seclusion until they were born.” She released a sob. “I was only allowed to hold them in my arms for a few minutes after they were born. I had never wanted those children; they were forced upon me by him. But when I saw their big eyes staring up at me, I instantly fell in love. I wanted them so badly, I can barely explain it. They were mine . . . my soul, my heart . . . until he took them away.”

  “No,” Bella whispered and her hand shook violently in mine. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. No air was getting through.

  “I cried and cried for hours. I screamed for my sons to be brought back to me. But I was told by my older brother, the prophet, that my boys—his sons—were to be raised as his heirs. That God had given him instructions on how to raise them . . . far away from the people. Because they were special.”

  “Ruth,” Bella said and reached out for her hand. Ruth’s face contorted with pain as Bella gave her much-needed comfort. But I couldn’t move. Shock rendered me speechless.

  “I never got over losing my boys. The prophet said I had become a plague on the commune with my depression and lack of faith, so he sent me away. He sent me far away from my sons so I would not interfere with God’s plans.”

  “Puerto Rico,” Bella whispered.

  Ruth nodded. “I was there until we were brought back to the US to join New Zion.” Ruth looked at me nervously, then shuffled forward. She picked up a piece of my hair from the floor. I realized then that her hair and mine were exactly the same brown. Her eyes were the same color and shape as my own.

  She was . . . she was . . .

  “I think that Judah was like his father, and that”— she swallowed—“that you are like your mother . . . ” She met my eyes. “Me.”

  I stared at this woman, trying to take in everything she was telling me. Uncle David wasn’t my uncle, he was my father. And he had raped his adopted sister . . . my mother . . .

  “I don’t know how to be a son.” I wasn’t sure why that was the first thing that spilled from my lips. But it was.

  Ruth sighed and cast me a watery smile. “I do not know how to be a mother.”

  I dropped my head, not knowing how the fuck to deal. Suddenly a hand was placed in my free hand—warm and soft and . . . “Mother,” I whispered, fighting to push my words out of my clogged throat. “I have a mother.”

  “Yes,” Ruth cried, her hand trembling in mine. “And if you would let me . . . I . . . I would like to know you. I . . . I love you, son. I always have . . . ”

  Bella leaned over to Ruth and kissed her on her temple. My wife curled into my side, forever keeping me close, keeping me from breaking.

  I sat on the bathroom floor, my hands and heart filled by my wife and my mother. Both good women. Both pure souls . . .

  . . . all of us survivors.

  Smiler’s words replayed in my mind, and I knew the brother was right. I had to try and live. I had been blessed by pure gifts in my life of impure hell.

  Squeezing the hand of my mother, and the hand of my stunning, brave wife, I closed my eyes. And this time as the darkness set in, no horrific images came to mind. Instead a lightness spread through my chest and a warmth lit up my heart.

  And despite it all, I smiled.

  I smiled and kept my family close . . .

  . . . because I was blessed.

&nb
sp; So truly fucking blessed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bella

  Three days later . . .

  I threaded the black shirt onto Rider’s arms and pulled it over his still-injured torso. He could dress himself now, but I worried it strained him too much. When I lifted my gaze, his eyes were already on mine. Over the past few days, it had been that way. Like something had changed within him, something that had made him cherish me, adore me . . . accept that I would never leave his side.

  It was the truth. I was not going anywhere.

  “Are you well?” I asked. I lost the ability to breathe as he leaned forward, capturing my mouth with his own. I closed my eyes as I ran my hands through his recently shorn hair.

  He pulled away, and I smiled when he whispered, “Yeah. I’m well.”

  “Good.” I placed a kiss on his head.

  I moved to gather the few things he needed from the room. This day brought our departure from the Hangmen and resettlement in our new home. When Rider had told me of Styx’s decision, I’d cried. In that moment, all my pent-up emotions fled my body. All the strength that I had forced myself to hold onto fell away.

  He was to survive.

  I was to live my life with the one I loved.

  That was all that mattered.

  There was a soft knock at the door. I smiled when I saw Sister Ruth enter. Her timid eyes immediately landed on her son.

  Her son.

  Even now, as I watched the quiet woman approach Rider, her body racked with nerves, I could barely believe it. Rider met her gaze and a nervous smile spread on his lips.

  They were both so broken by their pasts, but desperately trying to fight for a future. As mother and son reunited at last.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked. She raised her hand to touch a fading bruise. She faltered mid-movement, but I watched with pride as she kept going and ran her hand gently over Rider’s skin.

  Rider swallowed at the brief touch of affection. “I’m feeling better. Happy to be leaving this place.”

  Ruth nodded in understanding. Stephen arrived at the door with Solomon and Samson in tow. I wrapped him in a hug. The past couple of weeks had been good for Stephen and my sisters. We had spoken daily, and all grown closer.

  I already knew of his kind heart and spirit from my days in Puerto Rico. But knowing he was my father—my blood—made my connection to him even deeper. I could see it was the same for Mae and Maddie too. Mae, like she did with most people, welcomed him into her heart. And as for Maddie, every day she became more comfortable around him. Every day her barriers were crumbling down just that bit more.

  I was so proud of them both.

  Stephen and Ruth had moved to an apartment that Tank owned just outside of the compound. I had often wondered in Puerto Rico if they were more than friends, but I was assured they were not. I thought that, in a way, Ruth saw Stephen as the older brother she should have had. Stephen had cared for her and given her the love she had needed so desperately in Puerto Rico. They were best friends.

  They were our family.

  Solomon and Samson had taken the apartment above the garage. They visited the clubhouse often, and not just to see Rider and me. I got the distinct impression that the brothers liked the Hangmen. At least, they liked how they lived. Solomon had confided in me that he found the way the Hangmen lived was not a huge adjustment from their role as guards. The Hangmen seemed quite fond of the brothers too. I could understand that. Solomon and Samson had always been strong, decent men. I was never told what had happened to them to take them to the defectors’ commune, but I understood it was bad. I could see it in their eyes every time they spoke about our former home.

  Like me, they were simply trying to adjust to this strange new world in any way they could. Though, unlike them I had yet to realize that we were truly free. I had yet to even step out of these clubhouse doors.

  “You ready?” Solomon asked Rider.

  “Yeah,” Rider said. Solomon and Samson helped him off the bed and toward the door. My heart sank when I saw how much weight he had lost. His denim pants hung loosely off his legs, and the shirt that used to be fitted was now a size too large.

  I still found his short hair strange, and his shorter beard too. Yet he still looked breathtaking. Long or short hair, beard or not, he was still so incredibly handsome. Rider slowly walked to the door. I followed behind with Ruth and Stephen.

  As we walked down the hallway, I could hear voices coming from the bar. That filled me with nerves. It was no secret that the men hated Rider. Only Smiler had ever come to see him.

  This was not going to be easy.

  As Rider entered the bar, it fell into silence. Ruth stretched her hand out and gripped mine. I straightened my shoulders as we followed behind . . . and my heart cracked. Each of the brothers were glaring over at Rider. Words were not necessary; we could read their silent expressions—none of them wanted Rider to be alive.

  My breath faltered as the men rose from their seats, folding their arms across their chests, sneers on their faces. My heart shattered apart in pride as Rider hid the devastation I knew he would be feeling and forced his legs to move forward.

  He shook his arms from Solomon and Samson’s supportive grips and turned to face them. I was right. This reaction from his former club was killing him inside. The pain in his eyes was obvious.

  “I can walk myself.” I had to turn my face away as my husband staggered forward under the hateful glares from the men in the bar. I could not bear the sight of seeing him try to hold on to the pride they had so savagely ripped away.

  I heard Ruth suck in a pained breath. Rider had stopped in the center of the room to breathe through his pain. I wanted to go to him, to help him, but Ruth shook her head. “Let him do this,” she whispered almost silently. “He needs to do this himself.”

  It went against all my instincts, but I knew she was right. My husband raised his head and started walking to the exit. He kept his face straight forward, never once looking back.

  Because we could not. If we were to survive, we had to look solely to the future. He was doing just that, stealing more of my love as he did so.

  Rider made it to the door and he stepped outside. Solomon and Samson went straight after him. But I could not. Instead I roved my disappointed gaze over all of the men who had so cruelly stood and intimidated him. But they did not care. I could see it in their blank expressions.

  I was unsure if Rider would ever fall back into their favor. Too much bad blood had passed between them. I no longer cared. I was beginning to feel that these men were not worthy of his favor. I did not understand how they could stand by and ignore everything he had done to atone for his sins.

  He was worth more than these men were giving him. And yet he took it all. I loved that man. I loved him with a breathless, soul-shattering intensity.

  Ruth tugged on my arm for me to move forward. Just as I was about to go, I saw my sisters standing to the back of the bar. Their beautiful faces were conflicted, riddled with uncertainty. But I did not blame them. I knew now the sacrifices you made for the man you loved.

  I dipped my head at them. Maddie almost brought tears to my eyes when she lifted her hand and cast me a delicate wave.

  I loved them, too. I loved them so much that I would let them go. They were no longer children needing my protection. I too had to move on.

  “Bella?” Ruth said. I nodded my head and followed her outside, where two vehicles were waiting for us.

  Ruth got into one with Solomon and Samson. Stephen sat in the front of the other. I had been surprised to discover that he could drive, having learned before he joined the commune. I climbed in behind my father.

  Rider’s head was resting against the headrest, but his sad eyes were on me. Sudden emotion caused my eyes to prick with tears. I reached for his hand. “I am so proud of you, baby. So very, very proud.”

  Rider’s eyes closed. He said nothing. And I did not push it. I would not shatter the fading
strength that he was clinging to. I shuffled beside him and laid my head on his shoulder.

  I held tightly to my husband as we drove past several empty fields. Stephen stopped the truck in front of a small wooden cabin. It had none of the grandeur and luxury of Mae’s or Lilah’s. It did not even look as well-kept as Maddie and Flame’s.

  But my excitement grew nonetheless . . . this was to be our home.

  “I’m sorry.” Rider suddenly said.

  “Why?” I asked, my eyebrows drawn down.

  “This,” he said, pointing at the cabin. “It’s a mess. Run down . . . less than you deserve.”

  I met his eyes and shook my head. “No. It is ours. It will become our home. Looks do not matter, remember?” Rider searched my face doubtfully, then a smirk blossomed on his face.

  We entered the cabin. It was small and in need of cleaning. But there was a large bed, and a couch. To me, it was a palace.

  Ruth dressed the bed, and Rider moved slowly to it. He sat on the side of the bed, while I crouched down and untied his boots. Rider watched my every move.

  I love you, I read on his face.

  I love you too, I said with mine.

  A throat cleared behind us. “We shall leave you alone to settle in,” Stephen said, casting his disappointed eyes around the shabby room.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Solomon, Samson and Stephen left the cabin. Ruth came awkwardly to the bed as Rider lay down. He was tired; I could see his eyelids dragging down.

  “Do you need me to stay and help you clean?” Ruth asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I can do it. This place is not so big.”

  Ruth nodded, then nervously approached her son. I moved out of the way, busying myself with the cleaning supplies Ruth had brought us. But I could not help but watch the tentative new relationship between mother and son with a lump in my throat. Rider watched his mother as she rounded the bed to stand by his side.

  Ruth ran her hand along the edge of the bed. “Will you be okay here?”

  “Yes,” Rider said in his low, fractured voice.

  Ruth nodded. “Maybe I could come out to see you most days? If . . . if that is something you would want. It is okay if you do not, but—”