21. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Roman
I have it all planned out.
David Faulkner will die a slow, torturous death.
One so meticulously cruel that Ted Bundy himself would take notes.
It’s been four days since David dragged her out of that church, leaving bruises on her skin that I can’t get out of my mind. And what did I do? I just stood there, paralyzed by the fear of what everyone would see if I intervened—if they saw how much I care for her, how deep this runs. Eden is my greatest weakness, my one true vulnerability. If the congregation ever found out, I’d lose everything—my position, my calling, the life I’ve built. I’d be stripped of the collar, and everything I’ve worked for would crumble. But the worst part? I let him hurt her, and I did nothing.
These past four days, she’s avoided the church entirely. I know because I’ve been watching, keeping tabs on her from a distance. She’s been lying to her father, telling him she’s fulfilling her service hours, and I’ve been lying right along with her whenever he asks how her lessons are going. The thought of what would happen if he found out the truth makes my blood run cold.
And then there’s Luca—hovering around her in the parking lot after her shifts, wrapping her in his arms, pressing ice against the bruise around her eye. Seeing him comfort her, knowing that bruise shouldn’t even exist, fills me with a burning jealousy and regret. That should be me holding her, protecting her. But all I can do is watch from a distance, haunted by my own cowardice.
That should be me.
It’s torture, this self-imposed exile from the one person I want to protect more than anything. Each day, I find myself drawn back to her, making excuses to pass by her workplace, to linger in the shadows where I can see. I watch her laugh with Aiden, the light in her eyes dimmed but still fighting to shine through the pain. And every time I see Luca’s arm around her, that idiot’s easy smile as he tries to comfort her, I feel a rage I can barely contain.
But what right do I have to feel anything? I’m the one who stood by as her father hurt her, who failed to protect her when she needed me most. I’m the one who’s too terrified to show the world how much I care, to admit that she means more to me than anything else in this hollow existence I’ve carved out for myself.
Eden seeing that binder was the last thing I needed. She wasn’t supposed to know, wasn’t supposed to see the dark underbelly of this town. But now that she does, I can’t stop thinking about it .
I roll my ring on the altar podium, the cool metal grounding me in this moment of helplessness. I glance at my watch—nine fifty p.m. Ten minutes until I have to stand before a congregation of people I can barely stand to look at, let alone preach to. They disgust me, every last one of them, but I play my part because it’s what’s expected of me.
Had David not made that agreement with me, had he not sworn to let me be the one to discipline Eden, I would’ve torn him apart the moment he laid a hand on her. But I had to hold back, I had to keep playing this twisted game to protect her. To figure out what the fuck was going on with those kids. The only reason he hasn’t punished her further is that he still believes she’s been fulfilling her service hours with me, and I’ve done everything in my power to keep that lie alive.
After he dragged her out of the church and hurt her in the parking lot, he had the nerve to apologize to me as if that could erase the damage he’d done. He swore he wouldn’t touch her again, that he’d leave the punishment to me as if that somehow made it better.
So I slashed his car tires. It was the only thing I could do to release the anger boiling inside me, the only way I could make him pay without exposing everything. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing I do feels like enough when I see the cuts on her arms, raw and jagged, a testament to the pain she’s endured. And all I can think about is how I’ve failed her.
The minute I saw the blood on his car keys, I knew I had to walk away—I had to force myself to leave before my whole congregation bore witness to me killing the man in broad daylight. The urge to tear him apart was almost unbearable, but I managed to resist, if only by a thread.
Since then, my phone has been silent. My sheets still carry the faint scent of her, a cruel reminder of what I’ve lost. Even now, as I sit here, I can’t stop wondering just how much time Luca has spent with her, the itch to check on her growing stronger with each passing minute. I want to make sure she gets off her late shift safely, to know that she’s okay, but I stay put, wrestling with my own demons.
Every night, I park near her house, keeping a careful distance. I watch, vigilant and ready to break in the moment I sense something is wrong. It’s a sick sort of penance, this self-imposed watch, but it’s the only thing that keeps me sane. Letting her get hurt in front of me feels worse than any sin I could commit. It’s a betrayal of everything I swore to protect—worse than accepting the Devil himself.
Repenting does no good. The prayers that once brought solace now only make the guilt fester. In my life, I’ve made many mistakes, but none as great as what happened on Tuesday.
I glance down at the detailed plan in front of me, a blueprint for vengeance that I’ve been refining since the moment David Faulkner laid his filthy hands on her. The demons he unleashed within me prowl the very space I stand in, turning this cathedral into something far from holy. They whisper to me, urging me to do what needs to be done.
I want to watch them all burn. I want to see this place, this twisted cult, consumed by flames—with her at my side, free from the shackles that bind us both .
"Roman," Zoey's father beams, interrupting my dark reverie. My hand moves quickly, tucking the paper away as I give him a once-over, trying to suppress the disgust rising within me.
"I’m Seth. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced." He extends his hand toward me, his smile forced.
"Right," I mutter, scanning the cathedral for any sign of the other members of this godforsaken cult, hoping to find something—anything—to distract me from the bile rising in my throat.
"First meeting?" He asks, attempting to make small talk, his tone earnest but grating.
"Yeah, is it that obvious?" I reply with a tight smile, forcing out a laugh that sounds as hollow as it feels. He chuckles nervously in return, clearly unsettled by my demeanor.
Crossing his arms across his chest, he glances around the cathedral, then back at me. "It's a damn shame what happened on Tuesday with Faulkner's girl," He sighs, his eyes briefly meeting mine before looking away. "One more outburst from her, and David might consider swapping Zoey for Eden on that roster—"
Something snaps inside me, a thread pulled too tight for too long, finally breaking. Before I can stop myself, the words spill out, cold and deadly. "If you ever suggest that again, I’ll kill you."
The air between us stills, Seth’s voice stopping mid-sentence as his face drains of color. He stares at me, eyes wide, struggling to process what I’ve just said.
"Father, I—"
"Say her name one more fucking time, or even insinuate that any of you dirty bastards will lay a hand on her, and I’ll crack your skull against this floor," I whisper, my voice low and deadly as I slowly turn my head his way.
Seth’s confusion is palpable as he takes a step back, his bravado slipping away. "David said you were one of us—"
"Did he?" I tilt my head, letting the deep-rooted hatred within me claw its way to the surface. "Did he also tell you he molests his son and fucks your wife when you’re not home?" The knowledge I’ve gathered on these people runs deep, far deeper than they could ever imagine.
They have their resources. I have mine.
"You’re no fucking follower—"
"I’m not," I admit, following him down the steps with a deliberate slowness. "But David Faulkner has some deep ties to someone I care about more than anything, which is why you, Seth, are going to be my eyes and ears," I smile, reaching into the podium to retrieve the thick file I’ve prepared.
Seth shakes his head, lowering his gaze as if searching for an escape. "Why the fuck would I help you?" He mutters, his voice betraying the fear simmering beneath the surface.
I toss the papers toward him, watching as they flutter to the ground at his feet. "I have all of that on a drive, ready to go to a friend of mine closely tied to the FBI. David was smart—he tied your name to all the cars that transport the kids. Everything leads back to you, Seth. So you’re going to help me create a clear paper trail leading straight to David, Kevin, and anyone else involved in this fucked up shit," I hiss, my words dripping with contempt.
"Lay a hand on Zoey, or even think about Eden, and I’ll release all of it—and I’ll kill you before DHS can even bust down your door," I grin, the threat hanging heavy in the air between us .
"Jesus Christ—" Seth’s voice trembles, but I cut him off, closing the distance between us in an instant.
"No Jesus, Seth. Just me," I scold, watching him flinch as I drive the pointed end of a small letter opener just below his ribcage, the cold metal sinking into his flesh with ease. "One twist of my wrist, and it’ll kill you before you can even make it to the hospital. A little trick I learned on my second tour overseas. But, as long as you make it through this meeting without opening your mouth, I’ll gladly help you pull it out."
I adjust his suit jacket over the wound, the dark fabric hiding the evidence of our exchange.
"Now be a good disciple and shut your fucking mouth."
Grabbing the papers from him, I tuck them back into the folder on the podium, forcing a smile as the others begin to file into the space. Seth stands there, his face pale and drawn, but he stays silent.
David is the first to enter, his presence casting a shadow over the room. He pats Seth on the back, oblivious to the fear in the man’s eyes. "Seth, how are you?" David asks, moving past me without a second glance. I keep my gaze locked on Seth, watching for any sign of betrayal.
Seth hesitates, most likely calculating his odds of survival, before forcing a smile. "Never better, David," He replies, his voice strained but passable. "Feeling lucky," He adds with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.
David turns to me, dismissing Seth entirely, his focus now solely on the task at hand. There’s something in the way Seth looks at him—a lingering stare that David, too self-absorbed, doesn’t even notice .
They’re all going to regret ever knowing David Faulkner.
"Father Briar?" David’s voice breaks through my thoughts, his arrogance practically begging to be punished. "Ready to begin?"
I force a smile, adjusting my collar with practiced ease. "Absolutely."
Seated around the font of holy water, the scene before me looks like something out of a horror movie. Men and women pass around a roster sheet while shamelessly drinking the church’s wine straight from the chalices used for Communion. There’s no respect for the symbolism, no reverence for the blood of Christ they’re indulging in like thirsty mosquitoes draining a vein. Their greedy mouths desecrate the sacred ritual, and the sight of it makes my skin crawl.
It doesn’t take long to register that I’m the youngest person in this twisted group. Seth stays close to my side, his breath shallow and his face pale. I’m prepared to lean over and twist the letter opener I’ve hidden beneath his jacket at the slightest provocation.
I’m here for information.
I’m here to keep Eden safe.
The closer I get to all of this, the easier it will be to bring it all down.
Finding my phone in my pocket, I press the record button, positioning it so it can capture everything. I pray it’s enough—pray I can gather enough evidence to expose them all .
"So, as you all know, Roman has replaced dear Father Kevin and was eager to fill the hole he left behind," David smiles, his expression smug as the others in the group raise their chalices in a drunken toast, their hands clapping in sloppy, welcoming applause.
Sick fucks.
I force a smile, leaning back in my chair with calculated ease. "I’m honored to have you all welcome me with such open arms," I grin, casting a glance at Seth, who struggles to hide his gasps of pain. His face contorts with the effort, and despite everything, I find his discomfort amusing.
"Father Briar holds a special tie to my family," David continues, playing the part of the concerned father. "As you all know, my Eden had another one of her psychotic breaks and nearly caused a scene—"
Hold it together, Roman.
I dig my nails into my thighs, grounding myself against the rage that threatens to consume me. I can’t lose control now. Not here.
"Though Roman has been working hard to instill discipline in her, the line she walks with the Devil has been difficult for my whole family. My son has been my primary focus. My job as a father is to shield him from the dark—"
His words blur together, and it takes everything in me to maintain a calm facade. My mind races with every lie he’s spinning, every twisted truth he’s manipulating to paint himself as the victim and Eden as the monster. The same lies he uses to justify the horrific things he does to both of his children.
They’ll all pay for what they’ve done .
And it starts with David Faulkner.
"But with Eden’s persistent disregard for her faith, I’m especially grateful for the discipline Roman has been instilling in her," David says, his tone dripping with false gratitude. "She’s needed someone to remind her of her place, and Roman’s efforts to steer her back onto the righteous path haven’t gone unnoticed." He smiles, raising his glass toward me. The air around us thickens with tension as he leans in, eyes glinting with malice.
"Which is why tonight, I ask you only one thing," He looks me over as if sizing up an opponent. "Show my daughter the fear of God. Give her a reason to be terrified of His strength," David warns, taking a deliberate sip from his glass. "Or, of course, I will have to do it myself.”
Our eyes lock in a silent battle for dominance, the air between us crackling with unspoken threats.
"Are you questioning my effectiveness, David?" I ask, my tone light, almost amused, though there isn’t a hint of humor on his face.
David’s smile fades into something colder, more calculating. "I’m choosing to believe that you are truly punishing my daughter for her dalliance with the Devil. But if I were to catch wind that you were somehow walking a path of sin with her, well, our agreement would have to change," He says, his voice dripping with thinly veiled condescension. "I’m choosing to believe your outburst with Zack wasn’t born out of a need to protect Eden," He adds, his eyes narrowing.
That fucking rat. Zack ran to David the moment I let my guard down. I’ll have to deal with him later—God help him if we’re ever alone again .
"You should know better than anyone, Father, women are a temptation. If you were to, say, care for my daughter in any way beyond instilling discipline and devotion, you’d deface the very nature of that ring around your finger."
"It sounds like you’re throwing out quite a few accusations, David," I mutter, a smile finally creeping across his face. It’s the smile of a man who thinks he’s won, who thinks he has me cornered.
"I know my daughter, Father. She’s not a clean woman," David whispers, leaning closer. "Consider this a friendly warning, man to man."
As he turns away, I see the truth for what it is. He has suspicions about Eden and me. This whole meeting—every word he’s spoken—was just a way to tighten the leash around my neck.
The rest of the meeting becomes a dull hum of conversation in the background, their words cryptic, deliberately keeping me in the dark about where the kids are.
As the group shifts from business to banter, I catch Seth’s eye, his expression guarded. "What does he want from Eden?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
"Complete submission," Seth shrugs, his eyes dropping as he mumbles the words.
I grip the sides of my chair, forcing myself to remain calm.
"She hasn’t bled," I lie, speaking a little louder so the group can hear, feeding into the sick narrative David has constructed. I turn to him, my face indifferent. “You claim she carries sin, yet she’s as innocent as our Mother Mary. "
"A virgin?" David muses, his tone shifting as if he’s seeing Eden in a new light, as if he’s reassessing her value. He picks up on the conversation, eyes narrowing in thought.
"Yes," I say, standing slowly, the chair scraping against the floor. "I suppose the price tag doesn’t quite fit the description for both her and Zoey—"
"Can you prove she still holds the light of Mary within her?" David asks, his voice a low rumble as the room falls silent. "Can you prove she is both submissive and untouched by a man?"
My mind races, searching for an answer that won’t trap me further.
The thought of proving something so twisted turns my stomach, but I know I can’t afford to show weakness here.
I tap my foot, stalling for time, shaking my head slowly as if pondering the impossibility of his request.
"If I can, she stays out of the bidding?" I ask, my voice steady, masking the storm brewing inside me. David’s head tilts, his eyes narrowing as he considers my proposition.
"If you can prove it," David whispers, his voice dripping with skepticism. "Then yes. She has no place in the bidding."
I nod slowly, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
This is all for show. He thinks I won’t be able to prove it. He thinks he’s already won.
"Deal," I say with a grin, extending my hand. "If I’m wrong, you may do as you please with her."
David hesitates, just for a heartbeat, before gripping my hand. His hold is firm, almost crushing, as he pulls me closer, his mouth brushing my ear. A cold shiver snakes down my spine as his words slither through the air .
"If I find out you are not one of us, and you’re corrupting my daughter’s soul with your heresies, I will make you watch her bidding and force you to witness the outcome. I can smell a heretic from a mile away, Roman, and your stench is unmistakable. I’ve sanctified my hands in this church’s holy water, and I will gladly drown you in it if I discover you’ve been leading her astray."
He releases me, the threat hanging between us like a blade poised to strike. Then, as if flipping a switch, he slips back into his charming facade, excusing himself with a smile as the others begin to leave. But as the doors close behind him, the tension doesn’t dissipate—it thickens, wrapping around me like a noose.
In my life, I’ve faced many demons. But I never thought I’d come face to face with the Devil himself.
A new resolve hardens within me, cold and unyielding. He’s underestimated me. They all have. And that will be their downfall.
The room empties, leaving me alone with my thoughts. But there’s no time to dwell. I can feel the clock ticking, each second a countdown to the moment when everything will come to a head.
The Devil might think he’s won this round, but I’ve got my own cards to play.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what’s to come. The final act is approaching, and when it does, I’ll be ready.
Let him come. Let them all come. I’m going to bring the whole damn house down.