She looked down at the trembling body she held too closely. Mercy was burning up. Eden’s healer hadn’t been able to help, but that hadn’t been too big a surprise. Sister Coleen dealt with colds and minor cuts.

Mercy had an infection. It was bad. Very bad. So progressed that it could be detected by scent alone. Coleen simply wasn’t equipped to deal with such things.

Which was why Rhoda had taken this drastic step. Why she’d bartered her own life to get Mercy out. To get her away. Hopefully to safety, although anywhere was better than the place they’d left behind.

Eden. Rhoda quelled what would have been a bitter laugh. She’d welcome death were it not for the small body she held. Lovingly, she brushed a lock of black hair from Mercy’s sweat-covered forehead. How I wanted to see you grow up!

Although Mercy was already grown up. She’d had her twelfth birthday nearly a year ago. Rhoda remembered turning twelve. Remembered playing games with her friends. Mercy’s birthday had been nothing like that.

Mercy’s birthday had been filled with tears and pain. And fear. So much fear. It’s all my fault. I agreed to go to Eden. To blindly take my children with me. I believed a stranger. He’d promised her food and shelter and a safe place to raise her children. And Rhoda had believed him, her children paying the price for her stupidity.

“I’m so sorry,” Rhoda whispered. “So very sorry.”

Mercy’s eyelids fluttered, her lashes lifting to reveal bright green eyes so like those of her brother. “Mama?” Her murmur was hoarse and harsh. “It hurts.”

“I know, baby. It’ll be better soon.” Rhoda had no idea if that was true or not. But the words seemed to soothe her precious daughter, who closed her eyes again. Hopefully she was asleep.

Or unconscious.

Rhoda hoped it was the latter, actually. She hoped that Mercy had been unaware when DJ Belmont had stopped the truck an hour into their trip, and then another hour after that. And yet another hour after that, taking his payment from Rhoda’s body.

But getting Mercy out of Eden would be worth anything Rhoda had to endure.

They were almost there. Almost to the bus stop where she’d left Gideon four years before. She leaned down to whisper in Mercy’s ear. “Mercy, honey. Are you awake?” Mercy’s chin dipped in a silent nod. “I need you to listen to me. This is important. Find Gideon. He’ll help you.”

Mercy’s eyes opened wide, her shock apparent. “He can’t. He’s dead.”

“No, baby. He’s not.” Please let that be true. “He escaped. I smuggled him out that night, just like I’m getting you out now. He is alive and you need to find him.”

Emotion flashed in her daughter’s green eyes. “He is alive? But you said—”

“I know what I said,” Rhoda hissed, prepared for Mercy’s disbelief. I played the part of a grieving mother too well. Except that she hadn’t been grieving his death. She’d grieved the fact that her actions had put both of her children in danger. She’d grieved that she’d left him alone, here, at this bus stop, while he bled and suffered. “But you need to believe me now. He is alive. And he will help you. Find him, Mercy.”