It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve the guilt that was clearly eating him alive.
About to cry myself, I looked away, instead searching for another face within the rows of people whispering and casting furtive glances my way.
Nausea welled up inside me, but eased as I found Jace.
His eyes softened the moment he saw I was looking at him. His expression didn’t change much—his jaw was still set, his brow still furrowed—but something in him gentled, as if he were trying to comfort me from across the sanctuary.
A moment later, Father’s voice boomed through the room, pulling my gaze forward again. The sermon began, the congregation bowing their heads and praying in unison. I tried to shift on my seat to relieve some of the pressure, but the motion tugged at the torn skin, and white-hot pain shot through me.
I couldn’t stop the sharp inhale that escaped.
The sound was small, but it echoed anyway—at least in my own ears.
No one moved.
No one acknowledged it.
My hands fisted on the arms of the Seat, knuckles white beneath the sleeves of my robe. For a second, panic pressed up against my ribs. Maybe I reallywassupposed to be able to handle this. Maybe this was proof of some flaw in me, some weakness Father always suspected.
I swallowed hard, the memory of Jace stroking my hair as I fell asleep grounding me when nothing else did.
I risked one more glance at him.
His eyes were locked on me.
Did he really want me?He was so perfect, and I was justme.
14
Jace
“…He’s devolving. If he was comfortable brutalizing his son—the one his fucking cult fucking worships—then who knows what he’ll do next.”
Patel swore under his breath as he listened to my recounting of Elior’s abuse. “The BSU called it, but we hoped it wouldn’t happen. Poor kid. Is there any way you can try to document his injuries?”
“He’s not a kid,” I muttered, though the word stung because part of medidthink of him that way—small, gentle, breakable. “If he were a kid, we wouldn’t even be talking right now.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Patel murmured, his emotions seeping through his uniform.
“I…” I exhaled, hating that I was about to betray Elior’s trust—although technically, I’d already been doing that every day. “Ihave photos. Took them while he was sleeping. I’ll send them through.”
Patel was silent for the minute it took for the photos to load. Then he grunted, “Fuck. That’s worse than anything we’ve recorded so far.” Patel hesitated before continuing, “There’s something else I wanted to bring up. You asked us to look into his mother.”
My pulse stilled. “And?”
“We pulled up the archived missing persons list. She’s been gone for twenty-four years. Parents reported her missing just after her 18th birthday.”
My grip tightened on the phone. “I wish I were surprised.”
Patel huffed out a strained laugh. “Same here.”
“I don’t have anything solid on this, but I get the feeling Malachi killed her after Elior’s birth. Maybe I’m wrong, and she died from complications of childbirth, but either way, if he kidnapped her or some shit…”
Patel was quiet for several seconds, and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded brittle. “We looked into her parents, too,” he said. “They reported her missing, but the report went nowhere. Barely any follow-up, no search warrant, nothing. Since she was eighteen, well, you know… Anyway, the local deputy assigned to the case retired the same year.” He paused. “It reads like a cover-up.”
Of course it did.
“Jace,” Patel said gently, “your instincts are usually dead-on. If you think he killed her—”
