Dylan grins again, blood dripping down onto his teeth. “They all think that.”
Heath glares at him. “Kneel.”
“No.”
“Compared to you, I am a king. You will kneel.”
“I kneel to no man,” he replies. “And the only king I have is Jesus Christ.”
Heath glances back at the three men who followed us in here and Mattheus, then laughs. “You think God will save you now?” He throws his head back again and barks out an exaggerated laugh. “You’re already here. Now, bow.”
“No.”
Heath hits him again. “Submit to me, cowboy, and we’ll take this slower.”
“I will never. I kneel to no man,” he repeats.
“We’ll see about that,” he growls right back. “Chain him up. Let’s let him think on his choices for a bit.” Before he pulls away from Dylan, though, he leans in closer. “Before this is over, you both will bow to me.”
The two guards rip Dylan’s arms overhead, all while he continues glaring straight at Heath. They shackle him to the ceiling, then turn to leave, following their master like beasts on a chain.
Delta is nowhere in sight. I didn’t even realize that they hadn’t brought him down here with us. Is he scared? Confused?
My breathing turns ragged now, the panic setting in as they seal the door. We’re trapped. In the bottom of a boat.
That’s about to be out on the ocean.
Where we can’t escape.
“Breathe, Emma,” Dylan tells me.
“I’m—trying.”
“Slow, deep breaths.”
“But—I—we’re trapped. We’re trapped, Dylan. He’s going to kill you.”
“It’s going to be okay. Have faith.”
“How are you calm?” I turn to him. “How are you so calm?”
“I prayed,” he says. “And as I was standing at the top of those stairs, I felt it.”
“Felt what?”
He smiles, and despite the ugliness of our situation, there’s beauty in it. Joy. “We’re going to be just fine. No matter what happens. But I need you to keep your head and believe it. This isn’t the end of our story, Emma. Okay?”
I try to cling to his words, to tell myself that, if he’s this calm, then it means he definitely has a plan. But how can I do that when all I can picture is a million different ways Heath could torture Dylan? Will he use a whip and add to those scars on his back?
Will he hurt me to torment the man I love?
Will he decide we’re not worth the trouble and just kill us both?
“Keep your head and believe it,” Dylan said. I take a deep breath and try to steady my racing heart.
“You’re bleeding.” Blood drips from his lip where he must have bitten it when Heath hit him. It’s dripping down to the floor near his feet. Not a lot, but enough that I imagine it hurts pretty bad.
“It’s just a scratch,” he replies calmly. “We’re going to be okay, Emma. God is with us here, right? And if He’s at our side, what do we have to fear?”
