“I know what you’re doing,” he says maniacally. “I’ve heard the stories about what you heathens do in Mexico. Slaughter and sacrifice the innocent to pay homage to the devil. Your spells and sorcery will not work on me, witch! I am a man of God, and I have vowed to purge the devil from the souls of men.”
When he finally turns his back on me to face the altar, I frantically rub the rope around my wrists on the edge of the pillar in hopes of being set free.
“When I learned that you were coming, that your arrival would mean there would be a ceasefire amongst the mafia families, I tried to keep an open mind. This city has seen too much destruction and death as it is. I should know since I gave the last rites and carried out more funerals than most in my position. But the minute I laid eyes on you, jezebel, I knew in my heart you were not the answer to our problems or my prayers for peace. No. You would be the thing that would finally destroy us all. I can’t sit on the sidelines any longer and watch you corrupt our sons and lead their souls into hell. You are an abomination, and that child inside you is the spawn of Satan himself.”
My heart stops when he turns around with a dagger in his hand.
“I’ll cut the sin out of you and clean the earth of the threat you want to bestow on it.”
“You’re insane!” I shout, thrashing around to break free from my bindings.
“No, whore. I’m one of the last remaining few that see you for what you are. Do not think I’ll be the only one against these unions. I’m sure more God-fearing men like me will see through this fa?ade and take matters into their own hands. The treaty be damned if it compromises the salvation of our souls. You’ll see. You all will.”
When he starts walking in my direction, my back goes ramrod straight, flush against the pillar.
“You’ll see hell long before my men or I ever will, priest. On my life and The Virgin Mother’s, I guarantee you that.” I spit in his face and growl like a woman possessed.
This time he doesn’t slap me but purposely punches me in the gut, pain and fear for my unborn child wrecking my senses. He rips my shirt open, buttons flying across the small room until I’m bare-chested in front of him, my lace bra the only garment left intact. My chest heaves up and down as he places the blade to my neck and then lowers it down to my belly.
“No. Please,” I cry out, true fear clawing away at me.
“Your fake tears hold no sway over me, harlot! Jezebel! Witch!” he shouts. “Watch as I cut the devil’s spawn from inside you.” He grins menacingly, making him sound even more mad.
When the tip of the blade pierces through my skin, I scream.
I scream so loudly that it breaks his concentration, and he falls back on his heels.
I only stop when the door to the room flings open, Colin kicking it down. Tears of relief fall down my cheeks, as Colin pushes the priest away from me, his hand wrapped around his neck. Shay runs to my side, agitatedly asking me if I’m okay while untying my binds. Tiernan, however, barely walks into the room, preferring to remain close to its door. My husband looks like Hades himself, ready to raise hell. His rage is so pronounced that I’m actually thankful he doesn’t try to come closer to me right now, for I fear his fury would swallow me whole.
“Petal?” Shay questions again softly after he’s successfully untied me. “Fuck, say something. Tell me you’re alright!”
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I repeat on a loop, trying to pull my shirt closed as he helps me up to my feet.
“No, you’re not,” he growls, running a soft finger over my swollen cheek and the blood smeared on my lips.
He then looks down at my stomach and sees the small flesh wound the priest was able to make. Shay then turns to his brother, his expression morphing into something one would only expect to find in a nightmare. “He’s hurt her. Made her bleed.”
“Has he, now?” Tiernan states dryly, but I hear the bubbling fury underneath it. “Then I guess it’s his turn to bleed. Bring him upstairs.”
Tiernan then turns his back on us and disappears. My gaze falls on Father Doyle, who is dangerously close to being strangled to death by the way Colin’s gripping him.
“Don’t kill him yet, Col. I’ll be fucking pissed if he dies so easily,” Shay orders, pulling me to his side and wrapping a protective arm around me.
Colin growls, loosening his grip as he pulls the priest by his throat out of the room. Colin only stops long enough in front of me to see for himself the damage Father Doyle has inflicted. I reach a hand out to caress his cheek, gently giving it a stroke so he knows I’m not broken. Relief flashes across his eyes, but then it’s replaced with hatred when the priest starts whimpering and begging for his life.