Questions.
Doubt.
And every damn one stirs the pot simmering in my chest.
I stalk across the clubhouse yard toward our war room, boots pounding the cracked tile as I shove through the warped doors.The dying sun casts long shadows through bars on the windows that haven’t been useful in decades.
Crowley stands in the space, acting like he’s a shepherd instead of a wolf.
The Reverend turns when he hears me.“Legend.”
“Your losing,” I snap.
Crowley lifts one gray brow.“Is that what you think?I think you broke our agreement.Where’s my daughter?”
I don’t tell him Royal took Becki out without permission.“None of your never mind, old man.”
“She ain’t your prisoner?”he asks softly, his lip twitching.
“She damn well ain’t yours.She’s protected.That was the deal.”As I say the words, true, because that’s all I promised him, that Royal would protect her, I realize, I’m already finding excuses for him.I put an end to it.“But you’re right.Becki’s gone.Vanished.”I decide to turn the tables on him, watch how he reacts.“Maybe the demon leaper got to her.”
He sighs, all weary disappointment.“My daughter has always been troubled.Perhaps she’s finally getting the guidance she needs.”
“Guidance?”I snarl.“You mean the same ‘guidance’ you gave those other girls before they disappeared?”
His eyes flash, just once, but it’s enough to peel the mask back for a heartbeat.
“You’re walking a dangerous path, son,” he says.“Accusing a man of God.”
“I wouldn’t care if you were God.”I step closer, invading his quiet little kingdom of ash and lies.“If you make one more move against this club, against Sophie, against anyone under this roof, I’ll put you in the ground you pretend to bless.”
Something tightens in his jaw.
Barely.
But I see it.
And I see something else.
Scratches on his neck.
Fresh.
Thin.
Like fingernails dragged hard across the skin.
Sophie’s height.
Or a frightened girl’s.
He turns away from me, dismissing me like I’m a sermon he’s already preached.He storms out before I put him through the bar.I follow him out.The air outside hits cold.Bitter.The fence rattles with wind, I follow him, not threatening, I fall back quite a way.
Mostly, I’m clearing my head.I lose him even and walk to the graveyard beyond, swaying like it’s breathing.Stones lean in crooked rows, teeth in a rotten jaw.
Then I freeze.
Something stands at the tree line.
