Away From the Dark (The Light #2)(92)

I searched behind the manic blue for the man whom, at one time, I’d thought I loved. “Explain it to me, Dylan. Tell me what’s happening, what happened. I thought we . . . I thought we were going someplace. I didn’t lie earlier. After my accident, which wasn’t real, but some drummed-up scenario that The Light put me through. A scenario that harmed me—like broken leg, concussion, injured me—I did dream of you, of your eyes. When I was finally able to see, Jacob’s brown eyes upset me. I couldn’t remember you, because of the medicine they gave to me, but I wanted to remember. Please tell me why you did it.”

“How can I trust you?” he asked, taking a breath and sitting in the chair to my left.

Trust me? Is he serious?

“You lied about remembering,” he went on. “You acted like you didn’t know me.”

“I was afraid, and I didn’t lie about that. I’m still afraid.” I met his gaze. For the first time with any man other than Jacob, I felt empowered, back on an even keel. I wanted information. I just needed to figure out the best way to get it. “If I ever meant anything to you, tell me what’s happening. What was Brother Elijah saying? Why was he so mad?”

Dylan shook his head. “It’s you. It’s f*cking been you. You have that effect on people.”

I waited as he ran his hand through his hair and leaned back with a look of utter exhaustion.

Reaching out, I covered his hand lying on the table. “I don’t understand.”

“I fought to keep you alive and now, this is what happens. Gabriel must be . . . shit . . . I can’t imagine.” He removed his hand from mine and pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly his eyes widened. “Where’s my phone?”

I looked from side to side. “I-I don’t know. I reached for it, but Elijah threw me to the ground. I think I left it on the sofa.”

“Fuck! I won’t know what Gabriel is thinking, unless he calls this one. I need to get my phone out of his office.”

“What? Why? And what is Gabriel Clark or Garrison Clarkson to you? How are you connected to all of this? I mean, you didn’t seem like”—I looked down and took a deep breath—“with me, you were never like them.”

Emotions flooded his expression, creating a spinning kaleidoscope. Happiness and sadness battled, and at the same time, I saw loss and duty as well as pride and shame.

“You may think you know The Light,” he said with an eerie calmness. “But you don’t. You only know what you’ve been allowed to see, and,” he added exasperatedly, “what you learned in your f*cking research.”

I knew more than he thought because of Jacob, but I wasn’t going to correct him.

“Then tell me,” I said, adjusting in my seat as the cramps continued to ache. “Help me understand.”

“It’s bigger, so much bigger than you know. I’m not part of this f*cked-up religious sect. I don’t beat or use women. The man you knew, that’s who I really am. And believe it or not, Stella, I tried to save you. If you would’ve had a damn ounce of the obedience you appeared to have with that *, you could be living your own life right now.”

My back straightened, rebelling at Dylan’s description of Jacob, but I decided that learning more about The Light was more important. “What do you mean, it’s bigger? And what did I do that caused Brother Elijah to be so upset?”

“You left. Nobody leaves and talks about it! Did you think you’d get away with it?”

Shit!

“I left the Northern Light and came here, because Father Gabriel ordered it. I didn’t, no, I don’t, want to be here. I’d rather be there.”

His gaze narrowed. “Truth? Really? Stop the f*cking lies! You left the Northern Light four days ago with some douche bag named Thomas. I don’t f*cking know if he took you willingly or unwillingly, but I know he said that you begged him to help you get away. He said you claimed you’d been kidnapped.”

It wasn’t only the cramping from before that caused my discomfort, but also nausea, bubbling, no, gushing and churning the sandwich in my stomach. If Dylan knew this, then so did Father Gabriel, so did the Commission at the Northern Light.

Where is Jacob? What have they done to him?

Perspiration dotted my brow and lip as the blood drained from my face. “Dylan, I-I . . .” I looked down, unsure what to say.

He reached for my chin. “What’s the matter?” he asked in a tone I didn’t recognize. “Cat got your tongue? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stella Montgomery speechless. Is that who I’m talking to now, or is this Sister Sara?”

“How? How do you know that?”

His palm slapped the table. “I told you, The Light is bigger than you think. What The Light doesn’t know is how the US Marshals became involved. Why would they be there when you landed and how did Jacob find you?” His expression softened and his tone morphed to that of the man with whom, at one time, I’d considered sharing a life. “That’s what I need you to tell me.” He reached for my hand. “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll show you mine, you show me yours. We used to be good at that.”

I pulled my hand away. “Stop it, your bipolarness is scaring me.”

“Really?” His chair scooted across the expensive flooring as he stood and began pacing. “I scare you? I never gave you a damn black eye.”