Chapter 28 #2
My hand clamps around his wrist, twisting until I hear the satisfying crack of bone.
The knife drops from his useless fingers directly into my waiting palm.
Before he can even process what’s happening, I drive the blade between his ribs, just deep enough to puncture a lung without hitting his heart.
“What—“ he gasps, his body stiffening as the steel slides home.
I lean in close, my lips at his ear. “You should’ve stuck to your fucking prayers.”
Richards makes a wet, gurgling sound as I twist the knife slightly, ensuring maximum damage without killing him outright. I want him to suffer. I want him to feel every second of his life draining away.
“If you move, if you pull this out,” I whisper, “you’ll bleed out in minutes. Understand?”
His eyes are wide with terror as he nods, his body already trembling from shock. I release my grip on the knife, leaving it embedded in his side like a grotesque ornament. Blood seeps through his white shirt, spreading slowly like spilled wine and bubbles from his lips.
“Don’t you fucking move,” I snarl, shoving him aside. He collapses to his knees, hands hovering near the knife but not daring to touch it. “If you do, you die faster. That blade is the only thing keeping you from drowning right now.”
I turn my attention to Seraphina, my heart hammering against my ribs as I take in the full sight of her. My jersey is torn at the shoulder, and there are angry red marks where the ropes bite into her wrists and ankles. But she’s alive.
“You’re safe now, baby,” I murmur, quickly working to untie the gag around her mouth.
The moment the cloth falls away, she gasps for air. “Lucien—what the hel—“
“I’ve got you,” I mutter, working quickly to free her wrists. The ropes have left angry red marks on her skin, and the sight makes my blood boil even hotter. “Did he fucking touch you?”
“No,” she gasps, her voice raspy from screaming. “Not like that, not really.”
I slice through the ropes binding her ankles and help her sit up. My hands move over her body, checking for injuries, probing gently for any hidden damage. Besides the rope burns and bruises forming on her wrists and ankles, she seems physically unharmed. Thank fuck.
“Can you stand?” I ask, my voice gentler than I intended.
She nods, and I wrap my arm around her waist, helping her off the altar. Her legs wobble beneath her, and I tighten my grip to keep her upright. I pull my shirt off and pull it over her head.
“Get in my car,” I tell her, pressing my keys into her palm. “Lock the doors. Don’t come out until I come for you.”
“Lucien—“ she starts, but I cut her off.
“Now, Seraphina.” My tone leaves no room for argument. “I need to handle this.”
Something in my expression must convince her because she nods. I watch her make her way down the aisle, stumbling slightly but refusing my help. My fierce Little Sinner.
Only when I hear the car door slam do I turn back to Richards, who’s still kneeling on the stone floor, blood bubbling from his lips with each labored breath. The knife remains lodged between his ribs, exactly where I left it.
I crouch down in front of him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. “Who sent you?”
He coughs, spraying blood across my face. I don’t flinch.
“You’re too late,” he wheezes, a manic gleam in his eyes despite the pain. “The ritual has begun. She’s been marked.”
I tighten my grip on his jaw until I hear bone grind. “I won’t ask again. Who. Sent. You.”
“No one sent me,” he gasps, his eyes rolling back slightly. “God chose me to cleanse her. To prepare her.”
I slam his head back against the altar, hard enough to make him cry out. “Bullshit. Someone gave you access to her. Someone told you where she’d be.”
Blood trickles from his hairline now, mixing with the sweat on his forehead. His breathing is growing more labored, the knife wound making each inhale a struggle.
“You think this is about you,” he says, a ghastly smile spreading across his pale face. “You think you’re so powerful. The mighty Lucien Devereux. But you’re just a pawn. We all are.”
I grab him by the throat, squeezing just enough to make his eyes bulge. “Who put you up to this? Tell me before I decide to make your last moments even more excruciating.”
He laughs then—a wet, gurgling sound that sends flecks of blood spraying across my face. “He gave her to me, you know. Said she was mine.”
My grip tightens. “Who?”
“Does it matter?” His eyes are starting to glaze over, death creeping in at the edges. “He promised I could have her and I’ve wanted her for so very long. Said she needed to be taught her place.”
“Vincent,” I growl, not a question but a statement. The pieces clicking into place. My father’s ultimate revenge—using her to try and break me.
Richards’ eyes widen slightly, confirming my suspicion without saying the name. “Your driver was easy to get rid of,” he wheezes. “So loyal to you, that Marcus. Wouldn’t give up the keys until I put a bullet in his head.”
Fuck, Marcus. I’d known him since I was a kid. He taught me how to drive when I was fourteen, kept my secrets, protected me. And now he’s dead because of me.
His eyes roll back, blood foaming at his lips. “She’s going to burn,” he whispers, his voice fading. “And you’re going to watch.”
With a final, rattling breath, Father Richards goes limp in my grasp. Dead.
I drop his body like the garbage it is, wiping my bloodied hands on his black robes. My mind is racing, cataloging threats, planning next steps. If my father is behind this and I’m fucking certain he is, then there’s only one thing to do.
I stand up, taking one last look at Richards’ body. Part of me wants to desecrate it further, to make him suffer even in death for daring to touch what’s mine. But there’s no time. Seraphina needs me.
And I fucking need her. I need to get her home and never let her out of my sight again.