Page 139 of Outcast’s Vow

The violence leaves Baptiste’s eyes to be replaced by something even worse.

Hurt.

“Get rid of him,” Leopold commands the men with a frustrated wave of his hand.

“Stop,” Baptiste roars, turning to all the other Elders gathered.

There’s another silence. His actions today have completely rattled the society.

“This is ridiculous,” Leopold shouts.

“Let him speak,” Cromwell implores the chamber, cutting through the bark of his rival Elder.

Leopold, incensed, turns to the Supreme Elder.

My father simply nods. Baptiste can speak.

The men restraining him loosen their grip slightly, but they’re still hanging on in case he strikes again.

“I know the gift was a test of my loyalty to the Castaways, but I am only loyal to Sylvie,” my former husband says.

“You failed that test,” Leopold snaps.

“Kill me,” Baptiste continues. “I don’t care anymore. I’m tired of hiding. Give me the consequence I deserve, but there’s one thing I ask of you.”

“And what is that, Mr. Tremblay?” Leopold asks.

“Don’t punish Sylvie,” Baptiste says. “Do what you want with me, but not her. I am prepared to die for it.”

Leopold grunts. He doesn’t believe this. He’s confused. Uncharacteristically so.

“You would really die for this girl?” he asks Baptiste.

“Yes.”

The quiet, deathly way he says it. The look in his eyes. I know Baptiste. I know his soul. And I know he is telling the truth.

Here he is. He fought his way in. He came back for me.

“Don’t ruin her dreams because of me,” Baptiste says, voice totally raw. “Don’t make her marry this coward. Let her live her life free from you. Free from me. Free from the Order. Have me instead.”

And now it’s Father’s turn to speak.

“Why would you hand yourself over?” Father questions Baptiste. “Why would you trade your life for hers?”

“Because she’s my wife.”

Father scoffs.

“Bullshit.”

There’s a beat.

Everyone is waiting for my former husband’s answer. The Supreme Elder never swears, and not like that.

Baptiste’s lips part. His chest heaves. He’s totally spent. Exhausted from fighting a small army. But he has enough strength for one last sentence. A sentence that is already circling in the air before he even utters it. A sentence that doesn’t even need to be said.

He looks at me as if to answer directly and only to me.