Page 72 of The Final Storm
They stare at each other without words. I’m holding my breath, watching them, terrified about what may come next. It’s in the past, and nothing can change it, but my stomach twists in knots. I want to jump in between them and rip Dean’s hands off my sister, but I’m frozen in place, desperate for air.
“Then explain, because they’re on the manifest. I’m taking them.”
Morgan steps back, placing her hands over his and slipping them off her shoulders.
“Rowan has the gift - not them,” she says. “Good luck getting her to go with you.”
“She would have told me,” he argues.
“Didn’t she though?” Morgan bites back. “Right before Sam was born, you heard her screams. The broken cuckoo clock that went off every ten minutes. The three feet of snow that had come out of nowhere in March. Our neighbor who dropped the teapot and burned her right foot. She knew, Dean. She already knew.”
She steps out of the door, and I remain, watching Dean look down at the floor. He turns to take a sip of coffee, nodding to himself.
The truck’s engine roars to life, and my sister sends a cloud of dust down his drive as she leaves. There’s a minute of silence while Dean rocks the cup in his hands before he throws it at the wall and it smashes into a million pieces, sending a cascade of dark liquid down the wall.
I waver, standing in the kitchen, watching his fury as he tosses the table on its side and rips off a cabinet door. He rages in the room, aware whatever plan he had has now fallen to pieces.
He didn’t have my loyalty. I’d begun distancing myself from him by this time, and he knows this.
My sister did what she had to, so the boys didn’t end up in his clutches. I forgive her the moment she says the words to Dean. I would have done the same. I would sacrifice anyone for them, even Sam, and he would want me to.
We ended up in Dean’s path, anyway. No doubt he’s working out a new plan in his tantrum, thinking of ways to keep me and my gifts close by.
I wonder what he does next, but it’s easy to imagine. When does the swim happen… a week from now, perhaps? No sooner, before he leaves.
He’ll phone my brother-in-law, telling him it’s coming and to prepare. That scared, pathetic man will do anything he wants. And when I call him to help me clean up the mess I made, he’ll do it acting like he wasn’t the cause. As if he didn’t kill my family and kidnap us.
BeLew could have died. They almost did, and he didn’t care.
The fridge tips over on its side, and I step out of the way. Dean’s red-faced and covered in sweat, his rage slowing down now that he’s destroyed everything in this room. I suppose it doesn’t matter. Everything succumbs to the storms soon.
I hate him.
I hate the man he became.
I hate myself for not seeing it sooner.
The room mists into nothing, and darkness surrounds me. This part doesn’t scare me anymore, and I flutter my eyes open moments later.
My body rocks in Sam’s arms. He’s shaking me and calling my name.
“Should I get someone,” Padmoore says by my side, helping me up to sitting.
“S-stop,” I stutter. “No need.” I press my hand on Sam’s chest. “How long was I out?”
“Maybe a few minutes,” Sam says. It felt so much longer, but I don’t dare say that in front of the captain.
“I’m just a little weak, still,” I say to them. “I’m fine.”
They look at each other and Padmoore stands. “You go to medical if you need to, but I have to go.”
Sam helps me to my feet. “Can we have the boat?” I ask and Padmoore’s eyes widen.
He shakes his head. “Fine. Are you going to the island first? That Gemma woman keeps pestering my people about the one left behind. Or does she need a fucking boat, too?”
“We’ll speak with her and figure that out. Maybe make a stop on our way out of town,” Sam shrugs. “What about the men you had scouting the island? Can you radio them and see if they can just detain the one left?”
Padmoore tilts his head. “What?”
