Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
My gaze darts toward Eva. She’s seated near the front, oblivious at first, until she notices the intensity of my stare. I give her a subtle nod in the direction of the men near the back. Her eyes widen as they follow my cue, locking onto the dangerous group. The panic that flickers across her face twists my gut, and I have to stop myself from rushing over to her.
I slip my phone out and shoot off a quick text.
Me: They won’t recognize you as long as you don’t get too close.
She glances down at her phone, reading the message with shaking hands. Her eyes flash back up to mine, filled with fear but also a steely resolve. She knows who those men are. She knows what they’re capable of. But as long as she stays calm, I remind myself, they’ll never make the connection.
In truth, she could walk right past them, and they wouldn’t have a clue who she is. To them, women like Lina are disposable. The whores, the dancers—they blend together in the minds of men like the Delgados. They’ve probably seen so many women come and go at Club Greed that picking her out from the crowd would be impossible. In their world, women are faceless, nameless bodies used for pleasure and then forgotten.
She clutches Nate tighter, pulling him close to her side as if her grip alone could shield him from the wolves lurking in the back of the church. The way she protects her son is fierce, instinctive. I can see her trying to stay calm for his sake, but her hand trembles as it rests on his shoulder. I feel my jaw clench, wanting to tear these men apart for bringing fear into a place of peace.
Eva’s eyes lock on mine again, and in that moment, I know she’s holding it together, but barely. She trusts me to keep her safe, but how can I do that when danger has walked right through the doors of the one place she should feel secure?
I shift my stance, ready to act if necessary, and keep one eye on the Delgados, watching their every move. I can’t let them get close to her. Not here. Not now.
I begin the service, the words slipping from my mouth automatically, like I’ve done a thousand times before, but today they feel empty. They blur together, the meaning behind them lost as my mind races with darker thoughts. My focus isn’t on the scripture or the congregation, but on the men standing in the back of my church.
Lazarus Delgado is watching me, his dark eyes cool and calculating, the weight of his presence heavy. He trusts me. At least, he thinks he does. I’m the priest he comes to for confession, the man he sees as a spiritual advisor, but if he knew the truth… I can’t even imagine the consequences.
I did ask him to come. In some strange way, I thought it would solidify my cover, but now that he's here, it feels like a trap. Why today? Why now? A thousand questions churn through my mind, but I don’t have the luxury of answers…not yet. My pulse quickens, and I force myself to breathe evenly, to keep my voice steady. It’s like walking a tightrope between two worlds—one foot in the role of priest, the other in the role of a federal agent.
Part of me is tempted to spill the intel I gathered on Christopher, to tell Lazarus that his favorite lawyer was seen at Club Throwdown this weekend, rubbing shoulders with Yuri Checkov, the bratva boss. How would he react to that? Would it spark a war between the Delgados and the Russians? Or would he shrug it off, a mere annoyance in the tangled web of criminal alliances?
My thoughts spiral as I glance at Eva. She’s sitting there, trying her best to look calm, her body angled protectively around Nate. She has no idea how deep this goes, how dangerous these men are. And here I am, juggling secrets that could blow this entire operation sky-high.
Lazarus shifts his stance, his fingers tapping lightly against his thigh, as if he’s waiting for something… or someone. I can’t help but wonder if he’s here for more than just the service. Does he know? Could he have caught wind of my true identity? Or is this just a show of power, a reminder that even here, in God’s house, the Delgados rule?
I keep my voice steady, but the unease gnaws at me. Every word I utter feels like a lie, a thin veil of piety covering the truth. My hands grip the edge of the podium, knuckles white, and I resist the urge to meet Lazarus’s gaze too often. He trusts me, but trust is a fragile thing in this world.