Chapter 34
The forest still clung to us as we stepped onto the path leading to the manor. All the joy and excitement we had from the woods bled out of us the moment we left the serenity of the forest and the secrets we left there.
Damp earth, pine, and the faint metallic tang of the wolf lingered in our minds.
At least mine couldn’t stop thinking about the woods.
I kept my hand close to my side, itching to make sure Sayuri didn’t pull any surprises like telling the Bishop to go fuck himself or something along those lines.
She didn’t even glance at me, and her steps were silent, but precise.
The weight of our sins sat between us like a third person in the quiet of our progress.
I broke the silence first, unable to be ignored any longer. This hot and cold bullshit was giving me whiplash,
“You sure about letting it go? We could go back?” My voice was low, more curiosity than accusation. To be honest, I was happy the beast was free. It didn’t deserve to die. Hopefully, the deterrents we left would be sufficient to relocate it.
Sayuri’s gaze flicked to me, calm and polished. “It wasn’t our life to take. And besides…” She paused, a faint smirk curling her lips. “…I thought you liked what we did instead, Father.”
Her tone should have irked me with the playful teasing. But it didn’t. It made me want to slam her down and show her how much I liked it.
Not yet. Jed, get it together.
I just nodded, keeping my eyes on the path ahead. The manor loomed before us, a beacon to all of Monticello to remember who ran this town. Jack Saint Clare could boast he ran Monticello, but the true silent leader was the man in the castle.
Bishop Percival Matthews.
Candlelight flickered behind the tall windows, and shadows danced like small creatures that had nothing better to do than watch intruders enter their Master’s home.
Knock, knock.
A servant answered, and the vast mass of the doors opened up to us. It reminded me of Dracula’s castle, not a holy man’s land.
Inside, the air smelled of old wax, leather, and something darker I couldn’t name.
The manor was quiet, but not exactly peaceful.
It was so quiet I could hear Sayuri’s boots on the stone floor.
There was tension in her stride, a subtle coil that told me she was already reading the room, and already calculating every corner and shadow.
Bishop Matthews was waiting behind a massive oak desk, with his hands folded, and the faintest predatory curl to his lips. His eyes were sharp and unreadable, and when he looked at us, it felt like a weight pressing into my chest, slow, deliberate.
Where is the little boy? Did his family come to get him?
“We…” I started, hesitant. “The wolf…it—”
Sayuri slid in beside me, smooth as silk. Right where she belonged.
“Escaped,” she finished.
The lie rolled off her tongue like a practiced incantation, and it was too perfect. I felt a tight twist in my stomach, not realizing how easy lies were for her.
What else have you lied about?
The Bishop’s gaze didn’t flicker. Instead, he leaned back slightly, letting the silence hang.
“Hmm. Perhaps…another hunter should replace you and needs to be the one to put it down.” His voice was calm, almost casual—but underneath it, every word was a razor making us both bleed.
I felt it immediately. Sayuri did, too.
Her fingers were twitching ever so slightly at her sides as her posture tightened. Her eyes met mine, searching for the acknowledgment I’d already given in my own gut: the Bishop was dangerous.
Not the obvious kind like a wolf trying to eat your face. He was the quiet, calculated kind that could make you bleed without ever touching you.
And maybe he already has.
“We could try again. But what if we fail?” I said carefully, trying to sound confident, though the tension in the room made my throat dry.
Matthews tilted his head, his eyes glinting like his onyx cane handle. “Then…perhaps it is not your failure, but mine to correct.”
Something in his voice made my hands itch. I wanted to stand, to move, or to strike…at least test the limits of his calm, but the weight in the room pinned me in place, unable to move.
Sayuri shifted slightly closer, her shoulder brushing mine in the faintest contact, grounding me.
Calm and proper.
That was my girl.
There was a fire burning behind her eyes, but I didn’t notice until it was too late.
“I see,” she said softly, her voice polite and smooth but layered with steel of her own.
Even in the presence of a man who could smell fear, she was subtle and dangerous.
Who is this woman?
Matthews’s gaze lingered. Slow and studying. He was watching for the imperceptible shifts and the tiny betrayals of instinct. “You both impress me, yet…I wonder. Are you hunters, or have you become the hunted?”
The words pressed against me, thick and suffocating. I felt the tension coil in Sayuri tighter than before. The almost invisible tremor of her hand at her side twitched. The weight of his question wasn’t about the wolf or the forest. It was about us.
About me.
And her.
Did he know?
“I think we’re culpable,” I said, trying to inject certainty into my voice that I didn’t feel.
My gut twisted with unease, but my words needed to be heard for Sayuri.
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he replied. “But culpability must be proven to be believed. I see no proof of your claim, Father.”
Sayuri’s eyes flicked to his hands, then back to mine. She knew something I didn’t. I watched a chill consume her. That small, subtle shiver ran down her spine, masked perfectly by her composed posture.
But I felt it, like we were connected.
She understood something about the Bishop, as a puzzle clicked, and she spoke his language. She understood the kind of darkness hidden beneath the clerical collar.
Does she see mine?
I wanted to reach for her hand, but awareness held me back, and the fact that the Bishop had already spun poison in front of us. Every inch of the room felt like it was leaning in, watching, and waiting for a misstep to unravel us both.
Matthews leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping, soft but deadly.
“You would do well to remember…the forest is alive. Wolves are not the only predators a hunter needs to be wary of. The forest speaks to those who listen.”
Fuck.
He knew.
Sayuri’s hand brushed mine, faint, but I needed to feel her presence. I felt her tension mirror my own. He was warning us that we weren’t as secretive as we thought. More than that…he was testing us.
We aren’t the only hunters.
I took a slow breath, trying to steady my voice.
“We’ll do what we must to end the threat, Bishop Matthews,” I said, firm, though my chest felt tight.
His eyes narrowed.
“Do what you must,” he repeated, the sweetness of the words coating his blade.
Sayuri shifted her weight slightly, her jaw tightening, and her fingers brushing at her hip in a subtle sign of preparation. She looked innocent and sweet, but I could feel the fire beneath.
“We will eliminate the issue. Rest assured, there will be no threats to this quiet land.”
Matthews smiled then, and it was like looking into the face of the wolf.
“Very well. But be warned. Not all hunts end where you expect. And not all hunters… survive the test of what they pursue.”
I felt the chill creep along my spine, and Sayuri and I exchanged a glance. The instincts we both shared screamed the same thing…
This man was no shepherd.
He was a predator.
The wolf we’d spared wasn’t the only danger we’d left alive.
Outside, the wind cut sharply across the clearing. Shadows of the trees stretched and twisted, mocking us. Sayuri’s composure was flawless as always, but I saw the subtle tightening of her posture and the brief catch in her breath. She knew, as I did, that this hunt was far from over.
We walked in silence, our steps echoing like the beat of some slow drum.
I could feel the weight of the Bishop’s gaze lingering on our backs, an unseen hand pressing at the nape of my neck from the windows.
I looked over to Sayuri and whispered softly to her.
“The wolf in the forest was nothing. It was us they were testing.”
She smiled weakly.
“The real hunt began long ago, Jedidiah.”
She was right.
And we were the target.