Chapter 8 One sentence hurled Angela Summers straight into the abyss. She let out a low laugh that shook her whole body while the tears came harder. Of course. She should have known. He would always believe Elaine-and only Elaine. They dragged her away. Twenty-four hours in the stockade felt like a tour through hell-dark, cold, and damp, with hunger and the kind of "rules and punishments" no one ever writes down. When they finally let her out, she looked like a broken doll, torn up everywhere and hanging on by a thread. She inched back home on wrecked legs and found Gideon Holt had brought Elaine Ward into the house. "Elaine got hurt because of you and has no one to take care of her. She'll stay here awhile," Gideon said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Angela said nothing. She had no strength left to argue. She slipped into her room. Elaine had no intention of letting it go. Dinner was "cold on purpose." The blanket was "too thin on purpose." She pecked and needled until the whole place was chaos. Every time, Gideon lit into Angela without asking a single question. At last, his patience snapped. He locked Angela in her room. "There's malice in you. Stay in here and think it through. When you've figured out how wrong you were, I'll let you out," he said through the door, voice flat and cold. "Gideon Holt! Let me out! You can't lock me in here!" Angela pounded the door, crying until the sound broke. No one answered. After dark, a block captain tore down the hall, pounding on doors and shouting through a bullhorn: "Emergency notice! Heavy rain upstream-the flood may hit tonight! Evacuate now! Take only essentials!" A flood was coming. Their row of base family housing sat close to the river, and during peak season they evacuated almost every year. Angela panicked. She hammered the door and screamed for help. "Gideon! Open up! The river's coming over! Let me out!" Silence on the other side. Gideon had left-with his Elaine. He had clean forgotten the wife he'd locked inside. Hopelessness rose like icy river water and swallowed her whole. She slid to the floor and listened as the commotion outside thinned and then faded, until the world went still. The surge came quickly. Water slid under the door and across the floor, bone-cold. It climbed her ankles, then her knees, then her waist. She fought to get higher, but her body was too torn up. Strength ran out. The river took her mouth and nose. Then the dark took everything. She woke in a hospital. Through a blur, she heard a nurse's urgent voice. "Captain Holt! Your wife's wounds soaked in floodwater too long. The infection is severe. We have to give tetanus antitoxin immediately or we may lose the leg. Ms. Ward only has minor scrapes, and her infection risk is very low. Are you sure you want to use the only dose on Ms. Ward first?" Gideon didn't hesitate. "Use it on Elaine. She's too frail to risk anything." The world detonated in Angela's chest. Tears poured sideways into her hair. It felt like ten years thrown away-like a love fed to the dogs. She blacked out again. When she clawed her way back, the first thing she did was grab for her leg. It was still there-God, it was still there. Relief flooded her, and she cried from the sheer luck of it. The door pushed inward. Gideon stepped in. "You're awake. Are you in any pain?" His tone held the tiniest edge of softness. Angela stared through him, voice flat and empty. "I didn't drown. I didn't lose my leg. That must be disappointing." Florence Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She's also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.