“And how would I join you? I’m already married to the cult leader’s daughter. That seems about as joined as a person can be.”
He was determined to be impossible. “My father isn’t a cult leader.”
“Right. Your father is an Empowered and most likely a terrorist. I was being unfair to cult leaders.”
Charity glared at Enzo. He could cool off in the chair for a while. She walked past him, opened the fridge, and shoved things inside. Eggs. Milk. Cheese. She winced at the corn cobs, wishing she could throw them away. Corn was going to have a bad association for the rest of her life.
“What are you doing over there?” Enzo called. His back faced the fridge. “Are you getting out knives for the torture session?”
Was worry in his voice or only curiosity?
“I’m putting the milk away so it doesn’t spoil.”
“Okay. I guess that’s important too.”
When that was done, she took her backpack to her parents’ bedroom and unpacked her things. But she couldn’t avoid Enzo or the decision of what to do with him forever. She pulled a notebook and a pen from a drawer, tromped back into the great room, and slumped down on the couch.
Enzo’s gaze followed her. “Now what are you doing?”
“Writing pros and cons of my options, so I can make an informed decision.”
“Can I help you with that?”
“No.”
“I have some really good pros for the baby option.”
She ignored him and wrote all the possibilities she could think of. The list wasn’t long. The wordbabykept stealing her attention.
“Torture is messy,” Enzo said. “You don’t want to clean up a lot of blood. Be sure to put that on your list.”
She kept ignoring him. Another minute went by in which she did nothing but tap her pen against the paper.
“Also,” he said, “you’d feel guilty torturing someone who saved your life. In fact, I bet you already feel guilty for keeping me tied up this way.”
She peered at him over the notebook. “You tried to arrest my father. I’m not feeling a lot of guilt.”
“I didn’t apprehend him because I couldn’t shoot you. I’m going to get no end of grief about that from my supervisors. That is, if I live through the next two weeks.”
Was he afraid of her? “Of course you’re going to live.”
“I’m not sure about that. You’re still considering your options.”
She put her notebook down. All her writing had done was convince her that fate had brought Enzo and her together because she was supposed to have some sort of chosen-one child who would help New Salem. An Empowered, perhaps.
Or said child might be the one her father passed his ability onto. Perhaps the child’s core desire would be to help the entire world and would change the course of history. What did Charity know about the vision’s end designs?
More pen tapping.
What other reason could there be for marrying an enemy—not just for being with Enzo for two weeks, but an actual arranged marriage to him? This was their honeymoon. Married people slept together.
But it was too much to ask of her.
Enzo was the enemy.
And yet, another part of her mind repeated the words that had been the constant drumbeat since last night.This is all your fault.
She’d trusted Enzo, kissed him, and put her entire family in danger. Now they were all on the run. How could she refuse to do any action that would redeem herself? She’d always known keeping her family safe required sacrifices. Certainly, saving the world required no less.