Chapter 10 Jace
Jace
It was the afternoon before confession when Malachi found me just as lunch cleanup was wrapping up, his hand settling on my shoulder with a weight that made my spine go stiff.
“Walk with me, Brother Jace,” he said pleasantly. The rest of the group assigned to cleanup duty averted their eyes and continued their tasks, no one questioning why the man who refused to eat with them was in the dining hall.
I followed him out the side door and around the back of the building.
Malachi stopped, clasping his hands behind his back. His white sleeves fluttered in the breeze, perfectly unwrinkled. He didn’t look at me right away. He just stood there like he was waiting for me to confess my sins.
When he must’ve realized I wasn’t going to talk, he cleared his throat. “Brother Jace. I’ve been meaning to meet with you to discuss how you’re settling in. You seem to be adjusting well.”
I smiled as demurely as I was capable of. “I’m grateful the Light found me, Father. Everyone’s been very welcoming.”
“Mm.” His eyes slid toward mine. “Particularly Elior.”
A beat pulsed behind my ribcage. I forced an easy chuckle. “He’s been very patient with me. I’m learning a lot from him.”
“You spend a great deal of time with my son. Don’t think I’m not aware of your walks together.”
I kept my hands loose at my sides. “I wouldn’t think of hiding it from you, Father. But I apologize if I’ve been monopolizing his time. I just find him to be a good teacher.”
“Teacher…” Malachi echoed, like the word amused him. “That’s new. I can’t help but wonder what you’ve been learning. Elior has always been… impressionable.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “He feels deeply, and he trusts easily. A dangerous combination.”
I nodded, keeping my breath slow. “I would never take advantage of that. I only want to honor the Light with whatever guidance I’m given.”
Malachi smiled stiffly. “Of course. A young man like you—full of fervor, eager for connection—it’s natural to be drawn to someone as radiant as Elior.” He paused. “But you wouldn’t want to confuse him, would you? He is so easily confused, after all.”
I tamped down the instinct to bear my teeth.
“I’m here to serve,” I said quietly. “Nothing more.”
A long silence stretched. Malachi studied my face like he could peel it apart. Then he stepped closer—closer than necessary, closer than comfortable—and placed a hand on my shoulder again. This time, the grip was firmer.
“Elior belongs to the Light,” he said. “I don’t know how you were on the outside, but in here, we do not tolerate any misplaced affection.”
My jaw locked for half a second before I softened it again. “Yes, Father.”
His fingers lingered a moment longer before withdrawing. “Good. I knew you would understand.” He turned and walked away, robe rustling behind him like wings.
I held my smile until he disappeared around the corner.
I exhaled through my nose harshly, trying not to let the rage show on my body. Anyone could walk past. Anyone could see. Anyone could report a shift in demeanor to Malachi.
But still—
Still, it crawled up my spine like fire.
Elior belongs to the Light.
The words echoed, venomous and absurd.
Malachi said it like a claim. Like a brand burned into skin. Like Elior was an object he owned—some artifact he’d crafted, chiseled, polished. The conviction in his voice made me want to punch something.
Frankly, I’d expected Malachi to say something about our walks a while ago.
I’d expected that exact conversation, but the possessiveness in his tone—the sweeping, entitled “mine” threaded through every fucking syllable—that got under my skin.
I rubbed my thumb against the inside of my palm, pressing my nail into my skin.
Malachi believed Elior was his. Not just his son, but his creation, his legacy, his disciple, and most of all, his obedient servant.
I headed back toward the dining hall, keeping my pace easy, casual, and unbothered so as not to attract any attention.
He’d wanted to remind me that Elior was off-limits, as if the warning would make me step back.
It only made the want worse.
I reached the doorway to the hall and paused, letting the last threads of anger settle into a cool calculation.
The plan I’d been forming in my head for days began to evolve and shift.
Malachi’s claim over Elior was the first thing I fully intended to break.
My next step never landed.
A buzz—short, insistent, and luckily fucking quiet—vibrated against my ankle.
For a second, I didn’t even recognize the sensation. I’d buried the damn phone so deeply into the back of my mind that the vibration felt foreign, almost intrusive.
Then it buzzed again.
Shit.
I swallowed my irritation and darted a glance around the hall entrance. No one was nearby. Good. I pivoted smoothly and strode toward the dormitory building, each vibration against my boot making my molars grind.
The hallway was empty. I slipped inside my room, shut the door quietly, and knelt to dig the phone out of my boot.
It buzzed a third time, and I punched the answer button without even checking the ID.
“What?!”
There was a second of silence, just long enough for me to realize how raw that had sounded.
Then Patel’s voice came through. “Well, good to hear you’re alive.”
I stiffened. “I—”
“We were about a minute away from sending a goddamn tactical team through the front gates,” Patel continued, uncharacteristically harsh. “You missed your scheduled call, Agbayani.”
A cold jolt shot through me.
My scheduled call.
Fuck.
“Agent—” I started.
“I already ignored protocol once,” he snapped. “I held them off because I figured maybe you were in a situation where answering would blow your cover. I told them to give you five minutes to call back in. But I can’t do that again. The SAC is going to have my throat.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead, eyes squeezing shut.
Jesus Christ.
I hadn’t thought about the op.
Not once.
Not in… hours.
This place was making me lose my mind.
“Understood,” I said quickly. “It won’t happen again.”
“No,” he said tightly. “It really won’t.” Patel took a breath, then added more quietly, “Jace… I stuck my neck out for you today. If they’d gone in, your whole cover would’ve been blown. You need to stay focused.”
Focus.
Right.
I’d been focused, just not on the mission.
And that was the problem.
I sucked in a breath and forced my voice steady. “I’m sorry, man. And thank you.”
A longer pause. Then Patel said, “Check in at the regular time.”
When the line clicked dead, I stared at the phone a moment longer, my pulse still thudding too fast, my mind shifting gears in a clunky, uneven grind.
I’d risked the entire operation because I had been too busy fantasizing about the fucking cult leader’s son.
The desire felt poisonous.
And it was only growing.
I shoved the phone back into my boot, stood, and smoothed my expression into something calm.
Logically, I knew that I needed to stop this thing with Elior and refocus on my mission, but that wasn’t going to happen.
I just needed to learn how to balance the two.
* * *
I’d noticed last time that confession night carried a strange energy—something taut and humming in the air, like a collected breath the entire compound held at once. People lined up in front of the chapel’s entrance with contrite faces, whispering prayers, hands folded, their eyes down.
And I ignored every single one of them, instead picturing Elior on his throne, shoulders tense, posture stiff, bracing himself for hours of whispered sins, tears, and trembling voices.
I kept my expression neutral as I sat on the wooden bench on the porch of the small schoolhouse—far enough away to avoid interacting with the congregation, but close enough to keep an eye on the line.
One by one, the members entered the chapel to confide in their savior.
Some spent just a few minutes, others longer.
And one by one, they emerged back out, to have their place replaced by the next.
Some came out crying, some expressionless, some whispering silent thanks to the night sky, like Elior had personally saved their souls.
Every time the doors opened, I felt it like a tug in my bones.
Soon it would be my turn.
But not yet.
I waited.
The first hour passed, then the second, and the line out front of the chapel thinned out until only the stragglers remained. A few glanced at me, probably wondering why I wasn’t queuing with the others, why I wasn’t eager to unload my supposed sins.
Let them wonder.
I was content to sit there and wait.
Finally, the last congregant stepped inside. As the door clicked shut behind him, I rose to my feet and made my way over.
A few minutes later, the man who’d been inside opened the door to leave. I gave him a polite nod as he held the door for me.
Once the door clicked shut behind me, I walked down the aisle, letting the quiet heighten the anticipation curling in my chest.
Elior looked exhausted as he straightened in the Seat of Light. I saw the moment he realized it was me, his eyes widening and cheeks flushing.
I was tempted to tell him that everyone else was done, and now he was mine for as long as I wanted to keep him.
At the foot of his carved throne, I fell to my knees.
I bowed my head, not out of reverence, but to hide the sharp pull of satisfaction that rose in my chest at the sight of him—spent, overwhelmed, and still sitting up straight because he believed he had to.
I knew he’d be more vulnerable like this.
He didn’t speak at first.
I lifted my eyes slowly, letting the moment stretch.
He swallowed, visibly. “Brother Jace,” he whispered, voice thin with exhaustion. “Are you the last one?”
“Of course I am.”
He blinked. “Oh. I… I didn’t mean—”
“Elior,” I interrupted gently, letting my voice soften the way he responded best to, “I waited because I wanted to speak with you without distractions.”
He flushed again, color blooming high on his cheeks. He didn’t understand what I meant—not fully—but his body reacted before his mind could catch up.