He was here…the goddamn Priest. I took a step toward the church before fate took over, lengthening my stride until I pushed through the massive wooden door of this place of worship. Hinges squealed as shadows descended, moving between the pews…until I realized the shadows were me. Ominous and dark, they reached over the rows of hard wooden seats as I headed for the massive statue of Jesus hanging from the cross suspended at the front.
There he was.
Thomas Cruz.
The one they called The Priest. He paced the floor in a frenzy before suddenly turning and sinking to his knees. I watched his head bow, my boots a heavy muffled thud against the hard wooden floor as I came up behind him.
But he didn’t seem to hear me, lost in his own torment he clasped his hands together, not quite in prayer, more like in distress. I swallowed the tang of rage. His distress had only just started.
“Thomas,” I growled his name. He whipped his head toward me, his gaze narrowing as I lifted my clenched fist into the air. “Your God will not help you tonight.”
I unleashed the blow with a crack! His head snapped backwards, but if I thought the goddamn lying bastard was going to go down easy, I was mistaken.
He shoved upwards from the floor. “London.” He started, his gaze moving behind me.
Was he searching for the sons?
Was he expecting Carven to follow, full of fury and rage, determined to exact revenge for his brother? But there was no Carven…and there was no Colt. There was only me.
“Wait!” he roared as I lunged, driving my fist against the side of his head.
The blow hit with a crunch. He stumbled sideways and slammed into the tiered rows of dozens of candles alight and glowing. Some spilled, their flames hitting the white fabric covering.
“Fucking wait?” I barked, lunging once more to grab him by his black shirt. “You. Fucking. Bastard! Where is he…WHERE IS MY SON!”
He shoved, kicking out with a foot to catch me on the side of the knee. My stance buckled as pain shot straight into my thigh. The bastard was fast…and strong, tearing out of my grasp to stumble backwards. “I don’t know, okay! I don’t know about Colt…I don’t know anything!”
“LIAR!” I rushed him.
But he swung his fist, arcing high in the air, aimed for my head. I ducked and drove my own upwards, hitting him under the jaw. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. My knuckles burned as they made impact. I unleashed the darkness inside me, driving it down into his face.
There was no hope for him.
No going back now.
Thump!
My son was all I saw. His bright blue eyes filled my mind. A montage of moments as that scared, broken boy slowly learned he was safe.
I’d made him safe.
Thump!
I’d made him strong. I did that, pouring my heart into those boys, teaching them how to fight…and how to kill…and finally…how to be a man…and a lover.
Go to him. Those words haunted me now. Go to him, pet.
I grabbed The Priest with one hand, holding his body off the floor as he slumped. His eye was a mess…bloody and bruised. His mouth was no better. Blood slipped between the cracks of his teeth and stained the enamel. I sucked in hard breaths, remembering the last moment of Killion Dare…as I’d severed his thumb and sent it to Hale.
Now I had caused my son pain.
A roar tore free as my mind morphed it into Colt’s severed digit on Ophelia’s kitchen counter.
I’d done that.
I’d done that.
I sucked in a hard breath, seeing the blood splatter on my hand. “Someone has to know where Hale is.” I settled my gaze on those blood-filled eyes. “Because he has my son.”
His head rolled backwards, as did his eyes…until he was out and I lifted my head to the carnage. Flames from the broken candles grew bolder, eating away the corner of the cloth. I heaved Thomas upwards, dragged him over to the destruction, and slammed his body down on top of the fire…snuffing the flickers out instantly.
A low, throaty sound shattered the silence.
Shadows shifted behind me, drawing my gaze.
I swung around and found a woman standing at the edge of the pews…watching me. Not just any woman…her…Helene King.
“One way to put out a fire, I guess,” she murmured, unfazed by what she was seeing.
I dropped The Priest.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head and lifted the gun in her hand. “I’m not here to fight with you, London.”
I didn’t care what she said. The fact she was here was more than telling. “Really?”
“I’m here to offer…my support.” She glanced at I Priest.
“Fuck your support.” I surged forward. “Give me King!”
She stepped backwards, but there was no fear in her eyes. Just pure determination as she aimed the gun at the center of my chest. She’d do it, too. She’d pull the trigger. That stopped me.
“My father isn’t who you need right now. Focus on your family, London, and I’ll focus on mine.” She eased her grip around the gun, handing me a card instead.
I took a tentative step forward, finding an address scribbled on Kane Cruz’s business card. “What the fuck is this?”
“You wanted to find The Teacher, there he is.”
I lifted my focus. “Why are you helping me?”
She turned to The Priest once more. “Let’s just say, if we don’t find your son, Hale, and the rest of the splintered Order, we have option B. One I’m hoping we don’t have to use.”
“Option B?” I shook my head, glancing at the card then back to her. “What fucking option B?”
But she was already stepping backwards, sinking back into the shadows and not giving me her back until she was sure I wasn’t following.
“What option B!” I barked.
The Priest behind me gave a moan and mumbled, “What?”
I spun around, finding him trying to push up from the floor. Fuck, his face was a mess. I clenched my bloodied knuckles, my gut clenching with what I’d done. Jesus. Revulsion gripped me as I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone free.
I swiped my thumb across the screen, leaving a bloody smear in its wake as I pressed Harper’s number.
“Yeah?” he answered instantly, sounding tired.
“The church on the corner of Heist Street and Malibu…Thomas Cruz is waiting.”
“The fucking Priest?” He sounded awake now.
“Yeah.” I lowered my head to the card in my hand. “If Riven doesn’t want to answer my goddamn messages, then the Therapist will be joining him.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.” The Priest tried again to push up from where he lay.
“Oh, I think I have a very good idea,” I answered.
“I’ll be there in five,” Harper said.
“We’ll be waiting,” I added before I hung up.
Thomas didn’t look priestly as I stepped forward and aimed my phone’s camera at his face.
“Fuck you,” he spat as the flash brightened the blood on his face.
I attached it to a message to The Principal before I stepped closer, standing over him. “Let’s see if your brother wants to answer my messages now. I have no problems spilling more blood. As much as it takes to get the answers I want.”
“We’re on the same fucking side here,” he growled, spitting more blood.
I lifted my stare to the statue of Christ hanging over the beaten priest. “Oh, I doubt that…very fucking much.”
