Closing my eyes, I bow my head and clasp the rosary between my hands.
A picture of innocence.
The sanctity that should exist in this place doesn’t anymore. I’ve found my way out, agreed to the terms set out for me. Kahn made his promises, now he has to keep them.
There is nothing holy about this place.
Not anymore.
I hear whispers along the corridors. I’m not alone. Never alone. I feel eyes on me. I don’t turn to Dominic. Instead, I focus on my prayers. The lies I told to get myself in here are now the truths that will free me. I promised to be a good girl, I promised to uphold the vows and my prayers. But I broke those a long time ago.
Father Dominic kneels beside me, his eyes burning into me. “Fucking the newbies isn’t a good idea, Maeve.” His voice is cold, detached, nothing like the man who always enjoyed my body and took pleasure in it.
“What do you know?”
“I was merely ambling by when I heard your cries of pleasure,” he tells me. “I’ve heard them many times before. Recognition struck, and I waited for you to leave his room before I came here to find you.”
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me.” His response has me turning my head, prayers forgotten. “I know things about him, things that would make you change your mind about spreading your legs for him.”
“Fuck you.”
Dominic chuckles. “You already did that. I wish I could’ve watched you take his dick. Your cunt is always so beautifully tight. Did he stretch you like I do?”
My grip on the beads tightens, my knuckles turning white while the palm of my hand stings from the bite of pain.
“Did you say your prayers like a good little nun while he rammed his dick inside you?”
“You’re vile.” I study my hands, not wanting to look at him.
“You didn’t say that while you were screaming for God all those times that I made you come. Perhaps you’d like us both to fill you up, just like the whore you are.” He leans in, before whispering, “Does your cunt get wet when you think about us gaping your tight holes?”
The moment he finishes his question, I hear the click of a gun echo around the stillness of the church. I don’t move. I can’t. Fear holds me still. The barrel of black steel comes into view then, pointed at Dominic’s head.
“I don’t take kindly to assholes who enjoy hurting women,” Kahn’s voice is ice, sending a trickle of anxiety down my spine. “Now, get the fuck up, and look at me.” His order is focused on the priest before him. I wonder how he even knew Father Dominic would be here.
“Was her pussy that good?” Dominic chuckles, pushing to his feet and facing Kahn. They’re glaring at each other, and the air in the church shifts from calm and serene to volatile, drenched in danger.
“Tell me about the deal. I need to know where the girls go,” Kahn questions, causing me to frown in confusion. All he said was he’s working for an agency to make sure criminals pay for their sins. But he didn’t mention any girls.
Dominic laughs, the sound is far from amused. Instead, he sounds manic, as if he’s been keeping secrets that nobody will ever find out.
“Kill me, and you’ll never know,” he taunts Kahn who immediately slams the butt of his weapon against Dominic’s cheek. Blood slowly trickles from the thin cut against his cheekbone. “Your boss doesn’t seem to know how to give up.”
“And you don’t seem to realize that I’ll happily spend months torturing you,” Kahn responds.
“What are you talking about?” I don’t make a move to near the men, but I have to ask. I’m fearful for what Kahn will do, but I’m not sure I even know Dominic well enough to be on his side about anything.
Yes, we’ve fucked.
But there’s nothing more between us.
“Torture doesn’t scare me, but if you want to know where the girls go, you should contact your friend in Colombia,” Dominic speaks slowly.
“Cordero?”
“No, Cordero doesn’t even know about what’s going on down there. He’s nothing compared to Da Rosa,” Dominic says. “He runs the show, and he’s the one I answer to. But you should be warned, if you even attempt to go near him, he’ll ensure you take your final breath.”