Taken Bride Read online

  Taken Bride

  The Secret Bride Series - Book Three

  Alta Hensley

  Copyright © 2021 by Alta Hensley

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Special Thank you to my editor: Kayla Robichaux and my wonderful beta readers.

  Cover Design: Jay Aheer

  Dedication

  To the victims of the Dixie Fire in Northern California. I wrote this book as an evacuee, and will always remember the raging fire around me as I wrote.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Also by Alta Hensley

  About the Author

  The Secret Bride Series

  1

  Ember

  * * *

  Desert thunderstorms possess an energy that can’t fully be described. You must live it. See it. Breathe it. Be it.

  Powerful, majestic, beautiful, and even eerie.

  You can feel the intensity in the air right before they begin. Your senses come alive; your skin tingles as you anxiously wait for the storm to come.

  You can also smell it. The sagebrush releases a scent as if to welcome the dark clouds. Almost like an aphrodisiac seducing the storm to come. The dust settles, and for a brief moment, the desert has a certain freshness to it. That is, until the rain comes. The rain replaces the fresh with an earthy musk as the droplets bounce off the hard and dry ground below.

  I always loved thunderstorms in the Nevada desert. Summer nights were riddled with them, and I welcomed each one with excitement and appreciation for how the lightning daggered across the gray sky. They were loud, scary, even dangerous, but I gladly watched each one with awe. I loved how they rolled in unexpectedly at times, and other times, you saw them coming from miles away.

  But the thunderstorm around me right now is threatening to strike me down. The lightning going off in my heart and soul is tearing me to shreds. The storm brewing is so intense that I may not walk away from the wreckage it’s causing.

  “I need you to come with me downstairs,” Louisa says, hooking her finger at me to come along.

  I’m paralyzed for a moment, but as if under a trance, I eventually follow.

  As we reach the top of the stairs, my knees nearly buckle as I look down below. As insanity nears, I hear her say, “They’re waiting for you.”

  She’s led me into the eye of the storm, and the hurricane of emotions steals what little bit of sanity I have left.

  Papa Rich.

  Scarecrow.

  They’re here.

  Oh my God, they are here.

  I try to blink away the madness, but it’s determined to stay.

  “You knew where they were all along, didn’t you?” I prompt Louisa without looking at her. My eyes are pinned on Papa Rich and Scarecrow down below in the foyer.

  “No, but I have the resources to hire the best in the world to hunt them down. I had no intentions of resting until they were found.”

  “Why?” I barely squeak out. “Why do this to us? You knew Christopher and I were trying to stay hidden. We wanted to keep the darkness away. You knew this. So why?”

  “Because I’m a mother. I understand your father in many ways. There’s nothing a parent wouldn’t do for their children. Nothing.” Her voice—calm and collected—sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Ember,” Papa Rich says as he reaches his hand up to me. “It’s time to leave.”

  This can’t be real.

  This can’t be happening… and yet it is.

  I look over my shoulder at Louisa, not sure what to do next. Alarm bells are banging against my bones, feeling as if they’re splintering beneath my flesh. Internal screams are demanding I run away from everyone in the house as fast as I can.

  I need to find my husband… now. Christopher will fix this. Christopher will make it safe again. He’ll save me. He’ll save us.

  But my feet are planted, and no matter what I do, I can’t move.

  Insanity is a sticky motherfucker.

  “Christopher—”

  “Deserves to be set free,” Louisa interrupts. “He didn’t choose you. He was forced to take you as his wife, and then his morals and overall good-natured personality made him feel responsible for you. This is not love, Ember. Maybe it’s devotion at most, but not love. You are just as bad as Richard. You are stealing his freedom. You are shackling him to your broken self. You are his captor now, and I’m doing everything within my power to save my son. Nothing more than that. He deserves to be rescued.”

  You are his captor now.

  You are his captor now.

  You are his captor now.

  Maybe I always have been….

  “We need to get moving, girl,” Scarecrow chimes in from below. “The pilot said he’ll only wait one hour.”

  If my eyes were lasers, they would sear Louisa’s Botoxed skin from her old lady bones. “You brought them here. You didn’t just find them, but you also helped them come to New York to take me back with them, didn’t you?” I ask Louisa, not glancing down at Scarecrow as he spoke.

  Maybe if I don’t look at them at the bottom of the stairs, they will disappear like ghosts. Maybe this is a nightmare. It’s not real. If I just don’t look and see them….

  Louisa still hasn’t moved an inch. She’s near, but not close enough for me to strike out and hurt her, which I’m considering doing—if only I could move.

  “I have the power to help people, and I have the power to hurt people. In this case, I’ve chosen to help your papa Rich.”

  She says his name as if it burns her tongue. The sneer on her face is not pleasant, and I’m sure she’ll need more Botox after this conversation, for she’s surely breaking the plastic shell with her looks of disgust.

  “But I want you to remember something, Amber. I can hurt far more easily than I can help. So, leave here, and never look back again. Leave my son alone. Forget he was ever in your life. Your father kidnapped him once. You chose not to help him then, but I’m asking you to help him now. This is the last time I’m asking. Consider it your last warning.” She doesn’t yell or raise her voice even slightly, but the threat in her tone is obvious.

  I don’t want to go to battle with this woman. I’m too tired to battle anyone.

  And she’s right.

  I didn’t save Christopher. And even now, I’m keeping him captive and chained to me until death do us part.

  I know this.

  Louisa is speaking the truth.

  I turn my attention back on Papa Rich and study his face. He’s not angry or full of rage. Dark circles are under his eyes, and he appears as if he’s aged in the short time we’ve been apart. I hurt him. I can see just how deeply I did.

  He’s been out there the entire time, hiding in the smoke from the flames of Hallelujah Junction. He didn’t give up on me. He never would. Never.

  When our eyes lock, he calls up, “It’s time, Ember.”

  “But I’m married, Papa. You married us. You chose Chr
istopher for my husband. I can’t just leave him. I’ve tried to be a good wife. I have.”

  My voice sounds weak. I’m weak.

  I hate it.

  I thought I’d grown stronger, and yet, with just his presence in the room, I’m a coward once again.

  “I allowed the devil to enter me,” Papa Rich says as Scarecrow nods beside him. “The decision was a poor one. I misjudged. I wanted a strong man for you, Ember. I wanted one who wouldn’t cower to me or anyone and would protect you at all costs, but—” He looks down at his boots and then back at me. “—when Christopher arrived that day in Hallelujah Junction, I thought it was a sign from God. I now know it was a temptation from the devil. I’m merely man, however, but have repented for my sins for allowing the evil within the walls of my home. Fire burned down that evil.” He takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling in what appears to be defeat. “I chose the wrong husband for you. I will rectify that decision now.” He extends his hand again. “You don’t belong here, Ember. I’m here to save you from the grips of the devil’s work.”

  “Go pack your bags,” Louisa instructs loud enough so that Papa Rich and Scarecrow can hear. I can tell her patience is thin, and she’s not going to allow anything negative to be said about her son any longer. “That man—Scarecrow—is right. The pilot I hired won’t wait for long. He’s risking a lot by flying you all back to Nevada.” When I don’t move right away, she adds with more force, “Go. Hurry up.”

  “I can’t leave without speaking to Christopher.” I swallow against the lump forming in the back of my throat and blink against the burning of tears threatening to fall. “I need to at least say goodbye. I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “You hurt him by staying,” Louisa snaps. “And if you don’t leave while he’s at work, he’ll never let you go. You’ll be trapped, and so will he. Is that what you really want? You’re going to drown him, Amber. You know this. I can see that you know this.”

  I glance at Papa Rich and Scarecrow and consider her words, even though they shatter me from my very depths.

  I don’t want to leave.

  But I don’t want to stay.

  “Go pack, Amber. Hurry. We only have a small window,” she repeats with more force.

  As if her words are the key to curing my paralysis, I do exactly as commanded.

  She’s right. I know this is not the place for me. I don’t belong, and I seriously doubt I ever will, no matter how hard I try. And Christopher has his life here. His work, his friends, his social stature, and his family. He has slid so easily back into who he was before me, and frankly… deep down, I know there is no room for me in that life.

  But I love him.

  I love him so much.

  But love is not always enough. I can’t live in the fairy tales I read back in the schoolroom. This is reality—as cruel as it may be.

  I enter our room and try my best to not look at the bed we shared together. I don’t want to remember his touch, his kisses, his promises that all would work out in the end.

  No, Christopher. It won’t all work out in the end.

  There’s only one thing left to do.

  * * *

  Dear Christopher,

  * * *

  I’m going home.

  What that means, or what that looks like, I don’t know. But it’s time I find out.

  Papa Rich and Scarecrow came to get me. I knew they would, and to be honest… I think the reason I was so afraid they’d find me is that I knew deep down I would want to go with them willingly. This is not a kidnapping. This is not a choice forced upon me.

  I’m leaving because I want to.

  You and I both know that I never fit in. Yes, I was trying… God, how I was trying. But this is not my home, just like Hallelujah Junction wasn’t yours. You were held captive against your will, and in many ways, that is how I feel now. I’ve had a chain around my ankle, and I finally found the key.

  It’s Papa Rich… my family.

  I know this doesn’t make sense to you. I know he’s a bad man in many ways, but fate brought us together when I was five, and fate has brought us together again. This is how it’s meant to be. And you living your life free of any obligations is how you are meant to be.

  I know you love me, and I love you. I love you so very much, but love isn’t enough to blend our two lives together. I’ve always wanted to be a good wife. But I can’t in New York, no matter how hard I try. And I want to walk away knowing you love me before the love turns to resentment and even hate.

  I’ve seen all the articles about you and me.

  “A Demented Love Story” is the one that stays with me the most. Because it’s true. But in this love story, our happily ever after is not the traditional.

  Do we still get a happily ever after? Yes, I believe so. It’s just that our story must have two different endings—one for you, and one for me. What’s happy for you is not going to be what’s happy for me.

  It’s how our demented love story ends.

  I should have freed you the minute you were taken captive. I should have removed that chain around your ankle on day one. Well… I am now. You’re free, Christopher.

  I’m removing the chain.

  You’re free.

  * * *

  ~Ember

  * * *

  It’s time our demented love story comes to an end.

  2

  Christopher

  * * *

  “What do you mean she’s gone? Where did she go?” I ask, looking at my mother and then at Ms. Evans, who diverts her eyes from my glare. “To the park again?”

  I don’t like the idea of her being alone, but I also understand I can’t be with her at all times either. I can’t expect her to stay locked away in her room all day.

  “No, son. She left for good. She packed her bags and left.”

  My mother’s words don’t make any sense. “What are you talking about? Where would she go? With what means? To whom? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Go see for yourself,” my mother says as I’m already halfway up the stairs, heading to our room.

  It feels as if someone is gripping my heart and squeezing tight as I storm into the room and see a letter resting on the foot of the bed. I don’t need to check the closet to know Ember’s gone. I can already feel she’s not here.

  Picking it up with shaky hands, I read the Dear John letter from hell. The words swim on the paper, and no matter how hard I struggle to focus on Ember’s delicate penmanship, I’m unable to let the words sink in. What is she saying? How can this be true?

  She left.

  She left with Richard!

  She willingly left with a madman.

  I sit on the bed, because I have to or fall to the ground instead. I keep rereading the words over and over in hopes that they will make sense to me. In hopes that there is some explanation or cure for the shattered heart that’s somehow beating a mile a minute in my chest.

  * * *

  A demented love story.

  I’m removing the chain.

  You’re free.

  It’s how our demented love story ends.

  * * *

  “It’s for the best,” I hear from the doorway of the room.

  “What the hell happened?” I ask, looking down at the letter. How could Ember write these words to me? I then shoot my eyes at my mother, feeling rage replace the sinking hole of despair in my heart. “You let those crazy men take her? Did they threaten you? Please tell me they held you at gunpoint, because that is the only defense for allowing Ember to leave with them.” I drop the letter as if it’s burning my fingertips and run my hands through my hair. “Jesus Christ. We need to call the police.”

  “She chose this,” my mother says as she enters the room. “I wasn’t going to stand in her way. I’m not going to hold her captive like they did to you. Hate me for it, son, but I believe she made the right choice.”

  “The right choice! Are you fucking kidding me?”<
br />
  My mother nods, unfazed by my shouting. “She didn’t want to be here. You may not have seen it, because you’re in denial, but she didn’t want this life. It’s your life, Christopher. Not hers.”

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Richard is a killer. You allowed a serial killer to enter our house and take Ember, all because she was struggling with getting acclimated to modern society? Not to mention this is the man who kidnapped your son! He chained me up in a cellar! You let my kidnapper into this house! Is that what you’re telling me? Please tell me that I have this all wrong, and this is a huge mistake. Because a mistake is the only way I’m going to forgive this. Tell me this was an awful fuck-up, and you want to beg for my forgiveness. Tell me!”

  “I’m telling you that I wasn’t going to stand in her way of what she wanted to do.”

  I reach for my phone to call the police.

  “Calling the police isn’t going to help. She’s gone. She’s been gone for a while. She didn’t put up a fight. She walked out the door with bags in hand and left of her own free will.”

  “Fuck!” I scream as I throw the phone across the room. “Fuck!”

  Anger? Intense sadness? A suffocating fury? Devastation? Relief?

  No, not relief. Ember should be here. She should fucking be here!

  “Fuck!”

  I have no idea what I’m feeling. A mixture of grief and rage is a potent combination, and it makes me feel as if I’m losing complete control of everything.