A pause. Then, “Honest.”
I glance at him. He’s leaning against the low wall, sleeves rolled, rosary glinting at his wrist. The light catches in his black hair, painting his face in gold edges. He looks too beautiful to belong to anything as ugly as what we are.
“You pray?” I ask.
“Sometimes,” he says. “But mostly I listen.”
“To what?”
“The quiet between sins.”
I snort softly, turning back to the fountain. “You sound like a sermon.”
He steps closer, his shadow sliding over mine. “You think sermons are all lies?”
“I think they’re what people use to justify the things they already want.”
He hums, low in his throat. “And what doyouwant, Ember Calloway?”
My name sounds dangerous in his mouth. I swallow the answer, stare into the water until my reflection blurs. “To feel clean again.”
Something shifts in him—almost imperceptible—but his voice goes softer. “You mistake scars for sin. They’re not the same.”
“Easy for you to say,” I murmur. “You’re the priest.”
“Was,” he corrects. “Now I just try to keep the devils from eating each other.”
I smile despite myself. “And how’s that working out?”
He tilts his head, thoughtful. “You tell me. The house is quieter since you came.”
“That’s not a compliment,” I say.
“It wasn’t meant as one.”
The air between us changes—charged, fragile. He reaches out, brushing a stray red curl behind my ear. The touch is careful, almost reverent.
“Why do you let them see your anger but not your hurt?” he asks.
“Because one keeps me alive,” I whisper.
His hand lingers at my jaw for half a heartbeat longer, then he lets go, stepping back like he’s afraid of what he might do if he stays.
“Come out here tomorrow,” he says. “Even if Rook doesn’t send me.”
“I don’t take orders,” I remind him.
“I know,” Saint says, smiling faintly. “That’s why I asked.”
He leaves me there, alone with the dripping fountain and the lingering ghost of his touch.
Chapter 14
Rook
The house doesn’t sound right anymore.
I notice it in the mornings — the rhythm of footsteps, the pattern of voices, the faint, discordant hum that sits under the quiet like a pulse out of sync.
