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)
And I wonder how long I can keep walking this line before it all falls apart?
After the service, I force myself to mingle with a few churchgoers, exchanging small pleasantries, though my mind is elsewhere. Eva ducked out the moment it ended, slipping away before I could say a word. I don’t blame her. The Delgados being here has probably shaken her to her core. But I need to see her, to make sure she’s okay. And to explain things, though I’m not sure where to even begin.
My eyes scan the room, half-listening to a sweet elderly woman thanking me for the sermon, but it’s not long before I spot Lazarus lingering near the back entrance, arms folded, his expression unreadable. He’s waiting for me.
I give him a nod and offer a quick goodbye to the parishioners before making my way down the aisle, each step feeling heavier than the last. His men stand beside him, their presence a bold reminder of the world we’re both tangled in.
"Father," Lazarus greets me with a faint smile, though there’s an edge in his voice, as if this meeting isn’t entirely casual. "Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"
I nod, forcing a smile of my own. "Of course. We can meet in my office."
Without another word, I lead him and his men down the narrow hallway at the back of the church. The sound of their footsteps echoes off the walls, reminding me of the dangerous company I’m keeping. My pulse quickens with every step, my thoughts racing ahead, trying to anticipate where this conversation will lead.
The hallway feels too short as we reach the door to my office. I push it open, gesturing for Lazarus to enter first. He steps inside, his eyes scanning the modest room—a simple desk, a few chairs, bookshelves filled with religious texts. It’s not much, but it serves its purpose.
His men linger by the door, standing like silent sentinels, their eyes never straying far from their boss.
Lazarus turns to me, that faint smile still playing on his lips, but his gaze is sharp, assessing. "I’ve been hearing things, Father," he says casually, though the weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. "And I thought I’d come straight to you for clarification."
I sit behind my desk, forcing myself to remain calm. "What kind of things?"
He chuckles lightly, but there’s no humor in it. "About loyalty. About certain...relationships." He leans forward slightly, resting his hands on the desk between us. "I trust you, Father. But trust is a dangerous thing in my world, as you know."
The unspoken threat is clear. My heart pounds in my chest, but I meet his gaze head-on, knowing this moment is critical. Whatever he’s here to discuss, I need to tread carefully.
"I’ve only ever served this church and its congregation," I say, keeping my voice steady. "And I serve you in the ways I’m able, as your priest."
Lazarus studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine, before he finally leans back in his chair. "Good. Then let’s talk about how you can continue to serve me."
I knew this day would come. The moment when the mob would tighten its grip on the church, twisting its sanctity for their own purposes. And now, here it is. I can’t act surprised; Lazarus using my church for his dirty dealings was something Vin and I anticipated. In fact, we were banking on it.
This is the break we’ve been waiting for.
“How can I serve you?” I ask, settling into my chair, my voice calm despite the storm brewing inside me.
Lazarus nods, clearly pleased with the tone of our conversation, like I’m playing right into his hands. “I’ve got a rat in my outfit.”
I keep my expression neutral, refusing to tip my hand too soon. “Who do you suspect?”
His eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, it’s like he can see right through me. It’s unnerving, that kind of cold, calculating gaze. "I’d hate to think it’s anyone in my immediate family, but Enzo has been acting strange lately. He’s taking private meetings.”
I’m figuring out in my mind if I should tell Lazarus what I know. “Have you had him followed?”
Lazarus nods slowly, as though considering his next move. “Do you think I should?”
A chill runs down my spine, and my heart pounds in my chest. “What do you know about Christopher Matthews?”
He shrugs, as if the question is hardly worth considering. “He helps us, we help him.”
I lean back in my chair, deciding to push just a little further. “And the Russians?”
A flicker of disgust crosses Lazarus’ face. He shifts in his seat, clearly agitated. “What about the filthy Russians?”
This is my moment. I pull out my phone, scrolling to the picture I took at Club Throwdown. I tilt the screen toward him. “Saw your man Enzo with Christopher there the other night. They met with Yuri Chekov.”