Chapter 22 #2
Jack steered Ronan toward the door again. “We’ll wait outside, baby. You go do your thing and remember what I told ya’ you will see.”
The boy glanced back once before sadly following his stepfather. Then they were gone. I held Jack’s gaze until the door shut behind him.
I looked for Sayuri in the halls, but she wasn’t there. I needed her gaze to give me strength. But instead, I was walking into the counseling room without a shield.
Before I got to the door, Sayuri was there. Her eyes lingered on my face just long enough to ask something without speaking it.
Are you alright?
“I’ll be finished soon. Miranda is here for her counseling session,” I said.
Her gaze dropped briefly to my hands, then back to my eyes. “Yes, Father. I will see you soon.”
I walked away before I could read too much into the softness there.
Miranda was already seated when I entered the counseling room. Her legs crossed, and her back straight like an arrow. Her smile was strange.
“Is Jack joining us?” I said.
“Oh, he’s sulking,” she said lightly. “Let’s have our little chat, Father.”
I closed the door and cleared my throat. “Very well.”
I sat down across from her at my desk, and up close, something was very wrong. Her pupils were blown wide, her skin flushed, and there was a sheen of sweat at her temples, despite the chilly temperature in the church.
“Miranda,” I said gently. “How are you feeling today?”
She giggled.
Giggled.
“I feel wonderful, Father.”
“You seem…different. Are you sure you are okay?”
“Different good?” she said.
“Different…concerning.”
Her fingers drummed on the armrest. “I don’t like it when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m broken. Because I ain’t Father. In fact, I have never been better.”
“I don’t think you’re broken.”
She leaned forward, and I felt immediate discomfort at her smile. “You think I’m sinful.”
“I think you’re hurting,” I said instead.
She stared at me, studying me like a bug under a microscope. Then her eyes slid past me like I wasn’t even in the room.
“Miranda,” I tried again. “Are you taking anything new? Medications maybe? Or…substances?”
She smiled again, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” she whispered.
My stomach tightened. “Miranda.”
She didn’t answer, just stared at the crucifix behind me like she wanted to stab me with it. Awkward minutes passed. I sighed and pushed myself to my feet.
“We can reschedule when you’re feeling more present.”
That was when she moved. Or rather, when she lunged forward.
Her body toppled over my desk, locking me in my chair and the wall of her body. Her hand shot out and grabbed the front of my robes, slipping under them and right into my underwear.
For half a second, my brain didn’t process what was happening.
Then it did.
“Miranda—”
Her fingers pushed downward, fumbling, invasive, and grabbing my dick in a painful death hold. I grabbed her wrist immediately, but she didn’t stop. She jerked my skin painfully, panting with deranged rage.
“Stop. Please. What has come over you?”
She laughed…actually laughed, sounding like a witch from a fairytale. “You like being the hero, don’t you? Saving sweet damsels you know can’t be saved.”
I tightened my grip just enough to restrain her without hurting her wrist.
“Let go,” I said, low and firm, but she didn’t stop.
She continued the rigorous pulling. My body was locked, and I couldn’t move without risking injury to her. She had me caged.
I wiggled in my seat, trying to wrench her hand away from my body, but she gripped me tighter to the point of pain, and my anger and fear spiked.
“Miranda, this is inappropriate. Stop this right now, have you no sense?”
“Inappropriate?” she shrieked. “Oh, Father. You preach about purity and sin, and somewhere along the way, you’ve got big ideas. You think you’re not rotten underneath all this damn cloth? I feel your dick gettin’ hard for me. Don’t play. You been askin’ for this. Just take it.”
“Stop this. This isn’t you. Don’t let Jack break you. Think of Ronan.”
She froze at the mention of her son, and tears ran down her face without a change in expression.
I took advantage of the pause and pushed her hand away, scrambling out of the seat and putting distance between us. She stumbled when she stood up, but didn’t fall.
“You need to leave,” I said, my heart pounding, leading her to the door. “We need to—”
She slapped me right across the face.
Hard.
The crack echoed in the small room as my head snapped to the side. Before I could react to the shock, she started laughing wildly and became unsteady.
“No,” she hissed. “You don’t get to pretend to be my hero when you’re just a pretty villain, Father.”
The words landed like a blade between my ribs.
Villain.
Hero.
“Is cause’ I’m not that little nun you stare at all the time? What’s she got that I don’t?”
I stared at her and saw something fractured behind her eyes.
This wasn’t seduction.
This wasn’t anger.
This was unraveling.
Jack Saint Clare had finally broken her. I stepped toward the door, and she blocked me again.
“You don’t get to run,” she whispered.
“I’m not running,” I said quietly. “I’m protecting you from yourself. This isn’t who you are, Miranda. You are a good person and a good mother.”
Her laughter cracked, and for a split second, fear and absolute defeat flickered across her face.
Then it was gone, leaving her devoid of any emotion at all.
I couldn’t save this woman. Sayuri was right. I filled her with dreams and false hope, and now she had fallen even further from grace.
I wasn’t a hero.
I couldn’t save anyone, much less my own soul. I wasn’t leading my flock to salvation as I tried so hard to do.
Everyone’s soul I tried to save was going to one single location, and…
There was no peace there.
There was no safety.
I was leading them all to their own slaughter.