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The knife went completely through Adam’s hand, driving into the wood beneath it. Adam cried out, first in shock, and then in pain. Danny rotated the blade back and forth in Adam’s hand, trying to free its sunken tip from the beam.
The pain was agonizing, but Adam feared if he yanked his hand away, the knife would slice through the rest of it. He heard Iris’s screams, Danny’s frustrated swearing, and a grinding moan that tore from his own throat as his knees buckled. But the lower he dropped, the more the blade tugged at his hand. Adam braced his knees against the stone to stop his descent.
The knife finally came free, sending Danny stumbling backward. Adam clutched his arm to his chest, staggered away from the altar, and ran toward the woodpile. Recovering his balance, Danny skirted
