Upton Pendleton stands at the registry counter with Lillian Newell, the dust catching in the midday light across faded claim maps. When his forearm brushes her shoulder the preacher does not pull away. His low voice carries the weight of command as the half-open door lets the world linger just outside.
He lays out the terms of their claim in words that degrade and possess, promising to breed her deep on the fresh earth until she carries proof of his ownership and nothing of her old life remains untouched. She holds her chin high in defiance yet her breath catches, every inch of her responding to the man whose faith cracks under the need to mark her as his.
How far will he go before the line between salvation and ruin disappears entirely?
