Then the worst thing happens. He smiles, a little wry. Definitely amused. “Believe me, Candy, I know that. I think everyone who’s ever met you knows that.”

Now he’s just patronizing me. Everyone who’s ever met me knows exactly the opposite. Even Lola assumed I was fucking the boss until I told her otherwise. “You know what, Ivan? You can kiss my ass.”

“Maybe I will.”

God. Everything is so fucking easy for him.

Except one thing. “Excuse me if I’m a little stressed out,” I tell him, using the words like venom. “I’m going back to where I grew up, to the place I never thought I’d see again. But then maybe you don’t know what that’s like.”

He goes deathly still.

Like I’m on a suicide mission, I finish roughly, “You’re the one too afraid to go home.”

His amusement evaporates. “Is that so?”

I’m practically shaking. It’s too much. My mother’s death. Seeing Leader Allen again. Coming back to the place of my birth, my home for the first sixteen years of my life. “Enough with the fucking rhetorical questions. Yes, that is so. You act all tough and fearless, but inside you’re just as scared as me. And if you think I’m going to let you spank me because I’m telling you the truth, then I suggest you go ahead and try!”

Immediately I realize that the divider separating the front and back is down. Which means Luca and the other guard in front can hear what we’re saying. Shit.

Ivan looks furious, and I half expect him to accept my challenge. He’ll try to spank me, I’ll fight him—and he’ll win. Of course he’ll win. Then I’ll be spanked in the back of the limo, with an audience. I’ll show up at Harmony Hills with my ass red and my eyes puffy from crying.

It would almost be a relief to cry right now, to be able to cry. I want that, but I don’t want to show up in front of Leader Allen with that kind of weakness. It would only make him more likely to pounce.

Ivan leans forward. His voice is low, but I have no doubt he can still be heard over the gentle whoosh of the air-conditioning. “If we were at home I would put you in a diaper since you insist on acting like a baby. But since we’re not, you can sit on the floor.”

I hiss at him, shocked and weirdly turned on by his threat. Even in the midst of a tantrum, I know it isn’t the way to convince him I’m grown up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Now, Candy.”

I stare at the carpeted floor. It’s probably just as comfortable as the seats. And definitely more comfortable than a concrete corner in the basement of the Grand. But still. It’s the principle of the thing.

“It’s not safe.”

His gaze flickers over me. “Because there’s no seat belt?”

Of course he’s already seen that I’m not wearing a seatbelt. “I’m not doing it.”

I expect Ivan to grow enraged at my response, but instead it seems to relax him. So it’s a surprise when his fist closes in my hair. He barely has to move his body. Just a twist of his wrist has me sliding off the seat, legs folding underneath me as he forces me to the floor.

He doesn’t release me. His hand remains there, tight in my hair, fist against my scalp.

I close my eyes, relieved. When I’m like this, I can breathe again.

When he’s holding me, I can be still.

We remain like that over the many miles of the country road. I drift off—not quite in sleep, but not quite awake. It’s some floaty place where I don’t have to worry anymore. And Ivan holds me tight the whole time, not letting go even when it becomes clear I won’t fight him anymore, when someone else’s arm might get tired.

Even as a calm settles over me, I hate myself a little bit more. Hate myself for wanting his tender form of captivity, hate myself for needing it.

You don’t need it, Candace. The truth will set you free.

“A lot of people depend on him,” I say softly. “You may not understand it. Hell, I don’t even understand it completely. But there are innocent people there, children too, who depend on him.”

Ivan says nothing, staring out the window while holding me in place.

*     *     *

We turn a corner, and I feel Ivan’s body tense. He releases me, and I know we’ve arrived.

I scramble back onto the seat.

The entrance to Harmony Hills is unassuming, a simple metal arch topped with a metal medallion of the sun coming over the hills. There is no sign and definitely no phone number. There is a gate, but that’s not all that keeps people out.

The ground has spikes facing toward the road.

We pull to a stop along the side of the thin dirt road, where gravel fades into grass. Luca steps out of the car to open the door. Ivan steps out first, then extends his hand to me. Okay then.

There’s a small intercom jutting up from the road that I didn’t see before. The black metal box looks like it was installed decades ago, and I’m not sure it’s even functional—until Ivan presses the button.

A crackly voice comes across. “Who is it?”

Ivan says nothing, just watches me. Nerves tighten around my throat. My wild gaze catches Luca, who mouths They can see us.

I’m the engraved invitation.

I step forward and say in a tremulous voice, “It’s Candy.” A flush rises through my whole body—heating my chest, my neck. My cheeks. I don’t know where cameras would be located, but I’m hoping they’re black-and-white. “Candace Rosalie Toussaint.”

There’s a flicker of static, as if maybe a single short word was said, or maybe the connection was closed. The gate doesn’t move and the spikes don’t lower, but Ivan tilts his head toward the car. I follow him—taking his lead not to speak unless needed. He seems colder than ever, removed from the rest of us. This is how he’s able to do it. How he’s able to kill without remorse. How he’s able to rule. By being separate. Above us. It’s like he told me—he’s not so different from Leader Allen that way.

We sit in the back of the limo with cool air and smooth leather for ten minutes.

Then the gate rattles open on its own, remotely connected just like that intercom. The spikes lower. All three cars move forward, down the bumpy road that will take me home.

The road goes from bad to worse, and the limos are forced to stop.

Wordlessly, Ivan steps out and holds the door open for me. We’ll have to continue the rest of the way on foot.

I point to the tall house at the end of the lane. “There.”

The corner of Ivan’s lips lift. “I assumed as much.”

Of course, it’s the biggest structure here. It’s also the only one with regular running water and electricity that doesn’t black out at eight p.m. We have to pass all the other houses to get there. Some of them are barely held together, leaning to the side. Some of them are real houses. Where you live is based on how sinful you are. In other words, how much you obey Leader Allen.

I can feel eyes on me as we walk down the bumpy lane. It’s tricky to navigate even by foot, rough holes made by rain and loose rocks to remind us where we stand. My heart pounds as I see a curtain twitch in a window.

In the darkness of another house, I can see the whites of someone’s eyes as they watch us. In another one, I see the glint of something metal in the window. My heart starts to pound. A gun?

The sun ducks behind the clouds, casting a shadow over the cluster of buildings.

We pass the building that I know is the school, but there’s not a sound coming from it. No crying, no teaching. No slapping. Nothing I could recognize. We might as well be walking through a ghost town except for the smoke that rises from some of the chimneys, preparing for dinner.

We come to a stop at the end of the lane.

“Reverence Hall,” I manage to say past the lump in my throat.

That’s a fancy name that means Leader Allen’s house. It’s the nicest one on Harmony Hills, naturally, with central air and real floors. I think the word reverence is supposed to be about revering God, but I’m not sure if I ever believed that, even when I lived here. It’s about revering Leader Allen, who has so much more than his followers. His wealth is a sign that he lives without sin, which is kind of ironic, since Ivan’s wealth means the opposite.