20. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Eden
W rapping my legs around his waist, I pull him closer as our lips meet in another heated kiss. His back hits the mattress with a soft thud, the ironed perfection of his black shirt now undone, revealing the chiseled contours of his torso beneath my hands.
I barely had time to slip on my bra and underwear before he began trailing kisses along my neck, his tie hanging loosely, forgotten in the wake of our mutual distraction of each other. The moment I turned to face him, the thought of getting ready for Mass was abandoned entirely.
"You," He murmurs against my neck, his voice thick with both desire and restraint, "need to get ready for service." His hand tangles in my hair, pulling just enough to stop me from kissing him, his impatience simmering beneath the surface. "Now.”
"What’s a few more minutes going to hurt?" I ask, my hands still splayed across his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers .
"My ring is on, Eden." Roman snaps, the warmth of the room cooling as he removes the ropes and handcuffs from the bed and the sex toy he’d used on me from the nightstand.
"I have nothing to wear," I admit, glancing at the dryer where my clothes are still tumbling.
He gently moves me off him, adjusting the strain in his pants before walking over to a drawer. He pulls out a pair of sweats and a faded t-shirt.
"You’re lucky this shrunk," He smiles, tossing me the clothes.
I roll my eyes, starting to pull on the sweats, but he catches my wrists, stopping me mid-motion. "I’ll do it," He whispers, his voice softening as he kneels before me, slowly pulling the sweats up my legs. His lips trace a tender path up my thighs, pausing to kiss each scar, lingering on the deeper ones as if offering silent absolution.
When he’s finished, I grab his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Why do you do that?" I ask, holding his face firmly in place. "Why do you act like all you know is darkness, yet touch me so gently?" My voice is quiet but insistent as I hold his face steady in my hand, refusing to let him look away.
He shrugs. "You were a good girl for me," He whispers, his eyes narrowing with intensity as he pulls the shirt over my head, his lips brushing against each breast with a soft, reverent kiss.
"Do as I say," He continues, his voice a low murmur that vibrates through me, "and you’ll be rewarded." There’s a note of quiet disappointment to see me fully clothed as he tugs the shirt down to meet my waist.
I help him button up his shirt, my fingers struggling slightly with the small buttons, but he doesn’t stop me. He stands still, letting me tuck the shirt into his belt, his eyes watching me intently as I reach for his tie, the silence between us heavy.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask softly, watching as Roman’s head begins to shake before I’ve even finished the question.
"You don’t want to know."
"Try me," I whisper, my voice a delicate challenge as I loop his tie through with careful precision, drawing him closer in the process.
His eyes darken, the restraint he’s been clinging to slipping away as he leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "I want to take this tie and wrap it around your throat while you're taking me—"
His confession sends a shock of arousal and fear racing through me, but before I can respond, the sharp sound of the doorbell slices through the air, reverberating through the house. We both freeze, flustered and caught off guard, the moment of raw honesty shattered. I notice his hand twitching as if fighting the urge to remove his ring, the symbol of a vow he can’t bring himself to break.
In a flash, he pulls on the mask of a priest, the practiced expression of calm and piety that hides the turmoil beneath. "Stay here," He urges, his voice a hushed command as he heads for the door, leaving it slightly cracked behind him.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I position myself in the sliver of the doorway, swiping my phone for distraction while I listen intently to the unwelcome interruption. My pulse quickens, a mixture of nerves and dread pooling in my stomach.
"Father Briar," Booms a voice I know all too well, the sound of it sending a chill down my spine .
"David, I—" Roman begins, his voice noticeably strained, but my father cuts him off with a genial tone that only deepens my unease.
"No, let me start. I apologize for intruding so close to Mass," My father says, his words accompanied by the sound of a hearty pat on Roman’s back. I shrink back further into the shadows, pressing myself against the wall, heart hammering in my chest as I struggle to remain unseen.
What the fuck was my dad doing here?
"What can I do for you, David?" Roman asks, his voice carefully modulated to its usual affable tone, though I can sense the strain beneath it.
"I was wondering if you had a chance to go over the material I left with you, given our meeting is this Sunday—"
Meeting?
What fucking meeting?
"Yes, I did have a chance," Roman replies, his voice steady, but there’s a slight hesitation. "I was a bit confused by the last page, given there was no photo—"
"Zoey," My father interjects smoothly. "She recently shared with her family her plans to break away from the Church once she goes back to college, and her father was eager to see that it doesn’t happen. She’s been marked as tainted and needs to be led back to God’s righteous path. I think we’ve found someone eager to take on the task.”
What was he talking about?
“How are your lessons with Eden going, by the way? Has she shown any signs of improvement?" My father’s words cut through the fog of shock, twisting my stomach into knots .
My father asked Roman to instruct me.
And he accepted?
"It’s been fine," Roman sighs, tugging at his tie in a gesture of discomfort. "I struggle to see some of the things you’ve described to me," He states, but I can hear the slight edge to his voice, the tension he’s trying to mask.
"Trust me, Father, she has plenty of demons that need to be exorcised. Physical punishment seems to work best. But I’m sure you’ve found that out." My father’s words hang in the air like a poisonous cloud, suffocating me with their cruelty.
My gaze flicks to Roman’s bed, the memory of his forceful touch suddenly taking on a new, sinister light. Was this all part of some sick plan to break me, to make me submissive to my father’s will?
The room feels like it’s closing in on me, the walls too close, the air too thick. I glare at them through the narrow crack in the door, my heart pounding in my chest as I glance down at the time on my phone.
Fifteen minutes until Mass.
"You know, she didn’t come home last night."
"I believe she was with Zoey. At least that’s what she mentioned to me yesterday during her service hours." Roman lies smoothly, though I can see the way his fingers fidget with his ring, a telltale sign of his discomfort. "Although, given the circumstances, I’m not sure how much you'd want the two of them being around one another.”
What in the hell are they talking about?
"It’s best Zoey stays close to our family. Her mother is a hothead who’s poisoned her mind with ideas of leaving the church. The more time she spends with Eden is less time she spends with her heretic mother of hers." My father laughs, the sound grating on my nerves.
My gaze drifts around the room, searching for some clue to the cryptic conversation. My eyes land on a dark leather binder, half-hidden under a chair, its corner peeking out between a few miscellaneous books. The sight of it sends a surge of curiosity through me, a need to understand what kind of business Roman could possibly have with my father.
Creeping closer, I carefully tug the binder free from its hiding place, my fingers working the latch as my heart pounds in my chest.
What the hell could Roman be hiding?
Nothing could have prepared me for what I see when the binder slips from my grasp, spilling its contents onto the floor. I cover my mouth with a trembling hand, stifling the scream that threatens to break free. My eyes widen in horror as I stare down at the photos—blank, fearful faces of children, each one accompanied by a substantial price tag.
Panic seizes me, my stomach lurching as the reality of what I’m seeing crashes over me like a tidal wave.
All those children.
The numbers next to their names.
What the fuck is going on?
"Is someone else here, Father?" My dad’s voice pierces through the haze of panic, his tone suddenly sharp and suspicious.
"Just—"
The door creaks open, and in a moment of sheer terror, I nudge the binder under Roman’s bed, my heart racing as I look up to meet my father’s perplexed expression. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the cold dread that grips me.
I quickly tuck my arms behind my back, hiding them from my father’s view just as Roman’s body barrels past him, positioning himself between us like a shield. The tension in the room thickens, crackling in the air like a live wire.
"Eden?" My father’s voice is filled with genuine concern, his confusion evident as his eyes find mine. "What the hell are you doing here—"
"I told you to fucking stay silent and finish your prayer," Roman snaps, his voice harsh and cold, a jarring contrast to the man I thought I knew. He gets in my face, the fury in his eyes something I’ve never seen before, something that makes my blood run cold.
The slap comes out of nowhere, a sharp, stinging pain that explodes across my face. I don’t even have time to process what’s happening before I’m on the floor, my head spinning from the impact.
"Morning lessons," Roman explains, his voice icily calm as he glares at my father.
I dare to lift my head slightly, just enough to see the pleased expression on my father’s face, the satisfaction in his eyes making my skin burn where Roman’s hand struck me. The sting of betrayal runs deeper than the physical pain, cutting into me like a blade.
Crouching down to my level, my father’s eyes rake over me, taking in my disheveled appearance, my arms hidden beneath my body. "I knew you were the right person for the task at hand Father," He says with a twisted smile, his hand reaching out to tug at my hair, the gesture both condescending and cruel.
The realization hits me like a tidal wave, the full weight of the situation crashing down around me. The man I trusted, the man who held me with such tenderness only moments ago, has revealed himself as something entirely different—a stranger who’s capable of unspeakable acts.
"You serve in ten minutes. Get your act together," My father hisses, his voice low and menacing. My eyes dart to Roman, whose gaze is locked in a cold, unreadable stare. "Maybe you should have been here last night instead of out sinning with your brother," My father continues, his lips brushing against my ear in a mockery of intimacy. "I sniffed out his bullshit lie in a second. Bible study with friends, right? Sadly, your brother was the one who had to pay for your dishonesty."
He shoves my head forward before straightening and offering Roman a handshake as if nothing had happened. "I’ll leave you to it, Father," He smiles, patting Roman on the back with a camaraderie that made my skin crawl.
The moment the front door clicks shut behind my father, the cold mask Roman had been wearing shatters, replaced by a look of anguish. "Damnit, Eden, I’m so sorry," He begins, his voice filled with regret as he moves to help me up.
But I’m already standing, pulling away from him as I clutch my throbbing cheek. "Who the fuck are you?" I snap, my voice trembling with both anger and fear. "Who were those kids—"
"I had to do that," He interrupts, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "If Zoey’s own parents are willing to put her up, what the hell do you think will happen if your dad thinks you’re beyond saving? Do you think his focus will stay on Aiden forever—"
"Put her up?" I repeat, disbelief turning my voice sharp. "You mean she’s in that binder? Are you telling me those children were for sale ?"
"This whole town is fucking twisted, Eden," He says, desperation creeping into his tone as he tries to get closer to me, but I shove him away.
"And you’re a part of it?" I scream, tears streaming down my face. "You fucking work with my dad for what? A goddamn religious child trafficking—"
Roman grabs my arms, forcing them down as he gets in my face. "I have taken no part in any of that twisted bastard’s bullshit. Why the hell do you think I was so angry when Zack showed up yesterday? Your father had just given me that fucking binder, Eden!” His voice is strained, desperate. "I’m trying to protect you.”
"You’re just feeding me more of his lies," I yell back, my voice cracking as I get up in his face. "You fucking hit me—"
"What the fuck do you think he would have done if he didn’t see me discipline you?" Roman shouts, his eyes wild with emotion. "He already hurt Aiden—"
Oh God.
Aiden.
Sadly, your brother was the one who had to pay for your dishonesty.
Roman tries to reach for my chin, but I pull away, fury and guilt warring within me. "Get your fucking hands off me," I hiss, stepping back. "You’ re just another one of my dad’s sick fucking friends," I sob, watching the pain flash across Roman’s face.
"Eden, I panicked—"
"Fuck you, Roman," I spit, lowering my gaze in disgust. "I will go to the fucking police, you sick bastard! Where are they? Where are the kids—"
"The police know, Eden," He whispers, his voice heavy with resignation as he readjusts his collar. "The police know, and they’ll gladly defend the Church and drag you deeper into their bullshit for being suspicious," He warns.
"You agreed to fucking discipline me for my father?" I choke out.
The pain in my chest is overwhelming.
"To keep you safe," He mutters, his arms cautiously landing on mine. "To keep you away from him the only way I know how."
My mind reels, trying to process everything that’s happened, the fearful faces of the children flashing before my eyes. "Where are they, Roman?" I ask again, my voice barely above a whisper. His mouth clamps shut, the truth too heavy to speak.
"I don’t know," He finally admits, his voice breaking. "I won’t know until that meeting on Sunday."
I try to hold back my sobs, but they come anyway, wracking my body as I struggle to stay composed. "And Aiden? Did you know bringing me back here would cause him to get hurt?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"I didn’t know. But it was you or him. And I will choose you every time. You should know that by now," He whispers, his fingers grazing the material of his shirt above his wrist.
Guilt crashes over me, and I can’t bear to be near him any longer. I push past him, my heart breaking.
"Don’t fucking speak to me," I scream, swatting his hand away. "Don’t fucking look at me. Stay the hell away from my brother and me," I hiss, my eyes burning with tears.
I nudge past his front door, giving it a hard slam behind me. The sound echoes in my ears, a final punctuation to the nightmare I’m living.
Finding the back way into Saint Michael’s, I slip inside, my steps faltering as I make my way to the altar servers’ changing room. When I finally see Aiden, our eyes meet, and the pain in his expression mirrors my own.
"Aiden, I'm sorry—" I begin, but the words are lost as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. The thought of my father laying a hand on him ignites a blood-hungry anger deep within me, a rage I can barely contain.
"Aiden, I didn’t know—" I whisper, my voice thick with guilt and sorrow.
"It’s my fault," He murmurs, pressing his head to my chest, seeking comfort. "I’m the one who told Roman where we were. Luca told me what Roman did. I should have known he was as unhinged as Dad—"
"This isn’t your fault, Aiden," I say, my voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill out. "I will find a way out of this for both of us. "
"There is no way out, Eden," He sobs, struggling to keep himself together. "Don’t you see that? We’re fucking trapped. I thought maybe Roman might be different—"
"I don’t want to talk about Roman right now," I interrupt, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "I have to look at him all through Mass and hold it together."
Aiden stops, his tear-filled eyes scanning my face with confusion and concern. "What happened between you and Father Briar, Eden?" He asks, rubbing his bruised throat, his voice hoarse.
"Nothing that matters. It’s over now," I whisper, brushing a tear from his cheek. "He was closer to Dad than I thought. There’s no use in dwelling on that fact anymore."
"How bad did Dad hurt you last night?" I ask, my voice trembling as I search his eyes for the truth. He averts his gaze, the pain in his expression breaking my heart.
"I tried to fight back," He whispers, showing me his worn wrists, the skin raw and red. "He held me down. I thought I could stop him, but when he started touching me—"
"It’s alright, Aiden. I’m here now," I whisper, my eyes scanning the room for a robe. "You stay in here until Mass."
I slip on my robe, tightening the rope around my waist as if it could somehow hold me together. With a determined stride, I shove open the door and make my way down the hall. The weight of Aiden’s bruises and the fear in his eyes had ignited a fire within me. The thought of my father hurting him because of me is too much to bear. Anger sharpens into resolve, and without a second thought, I know what I have to do. I can't let my father get away with this—not when Aiden's safety is on the line. With each step toward the gathering space, my focus narrows, and by the time I spot my father, my decision is made: he will know I'm not afraid, and I won't let him hurt Aiden again.
As I step into the crowded gathering space, my eyes lock on my father, who’s standing near the back, engaged in conversation with Zoey’s stepmother. The anger simmering inside me boils over at the sight of him, the thought of Aiden pushing me forward.
He thinks he can get away with this?
Ignoring Zoey’s voice as she calls my name, I stride purposefully toward my father, my hands clenched into fists. When I reach him, I grab his arm, my grip tight, my knuckles white.
He turns, surprised by my sudden presence, his eyes narrowing as he registers the anger in my expression. "What are you—"
"Don’t you dare lay another hand on Aiden," I hiss, my voice low but laced with venom. My fingers dig into his arm as I lean in close so only he can hear me. "If you do, I swear to God—"
His eyes flash with anger, but he keeps his voice calm, his tone condescending. "Watch your tone, Eden," He warns, tugging his arm free from my grip. "You’re already on thin ice after that stunt in Mass."
I glance around, noticing the people nearby beginning to take an interest in our conversation. I need to be careful. I force myself to take a breath, to rein in the fury that’s threatening to explode. But I can’t help myself from leaning in again, whispering harshly, "I’m not afraid of you anymore. If you ever touch him again, I’ll make sure everyone knows who you really are."
My father’s expression darkens, and I can see the tension in his jaw as he struggles to maintain his composure. "You need to calm down," He says, his voice dangerously soft. "We can talk about this outside."
He grabs my arm, his grip firm but not enough to draw attention. With a fake smile plastered on his face, he guides me toward the exit, his fingers digging into my skin just enough to make his point.
Once we’re outside, away from the prying eyes of the congregation, he pulls me into a secluded corner of the parking lot. His face is a mask of barely contained rage.
"Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?" He snarls, his voice low and threatening. "You’ve made a fool of yourself and me.”
I glare at him, refusing to back down, even though my heart is pounding in my chest. "I don’t care what happens to me. But if you hurt Aiden again, I’ll make sure you regret it."
That’s when I see it—a flash of something cold and dangerous in his eyes. Before I can react, his hand lashes out, slapping me hard across the face. The force of the blow sends me stumbling, pain radiating through my cheek as I try to keep my balance.
"You will learn your place, Eden," He hisses, his voice seething with fury as he grabs my arm, yanking me back to him.
His grip tightens, and I feel the sharp edge of his car keys biting into my skin as he drags them across my wrist, leaving a stinging cut in their wake. I bite back a cry, tears stinging my eyes, but I refuse to let him see me break.
When he finally lets go, I stumble back, cradling my aching cheek and bleeding wrist. The world around me feels blurry and surreal as if I’m watching it all happen from a distance .
"You’re going to sit in the car the rest of Mass," He orders, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion. "And when we get home, you’re coming straight to my room."
I don’t respond. I can’t. All I can think about is Aiden and how I’ve failed to protect him. But as I turn to walk back toward the church, I catch a glimpse of Roman standing by the entrance, his eyes locked on mine. There’s a look of fear in his expression, a silent plea that tells me he knows exactly what’s happening but feels powerless to stop it.
After Mass ends, my father drags me to the car, his grip as tight as ever. "When we get home, up to my room," He whispers, and the dread in my stomach deepens.
But one thing is clear.
My father’s focus was no longer on Aiden.
Aiden is safe.
And me?
Well, perhaps I was better off at college, far away from this hell.
Joshua 1:9: "This is My command: be strong and courageous. Never be afraid or discouraged because I am your God, the Eternal One, and I will remain with you wherever you go."