“How bad?” I whisper.
“Bad.” His voice is rough. “He knows about the sacristy. Sister Margaret gave him a full report.”
My stomach drops. “What did you tell him?”
“That it was a moment of weakness. That nothing actually happened.” Marcus runs his hand through his hair, the gesture agitated. “I didn’t implicate you or the others. But Charlie…” He moves closer, and I can see the fear in his eyes. “He knows. Maybe not everything, but enough.”
“What did he say?”
Marcus’s jaw clenches tighter. “He reminded me that I left the priesthood once for a woman. Asked if I was repeating history.” His hands curl into fists at his sides.
“We need to tell Adrian and Elijah.” He reaches for me, then stops himself, his hand hovering in the air between us. Even now, even in private, we’re too afraid to touch. “We need to figure out what to do.”
That evening, we gather in the church basement, the stone walls offering the only privacy we can find.
Adrian’s face is pale, his gray eyes dark with barely contained fury as Marcus goes over and over our questions and answers.
Elijah sits on the edge of the table, his angel face troubled, his fingers drumming against his thigh in that nervous gesture he has.
“He’s isolating us.” Adrian’s voice is tight with control. “Questioning us separately, looking for inconsistencies in our stories.”
“What did you say?” Elijah asks Marcus.
“The truth about the sacristy. That we had a moment of weakness but nothing happened.” Marcus’s accent thickens with stress. “I didn’t mention anything else. Didn’t implicate either of you.”
“And Charlie?” Adrian’s eyes find mine across the small space, and the heat in his gaze makes my breath catch despite everything. “What did you tell him?”
“That everyone has been professional. That no one has behaved inappropriately.” I wrap my arms around myself. “He didn’t believe me. He gave me twenty-four hours to ‘search my conscience’ before our second interview.”
The silence that follows is suffocating.
I watch Adrian’s hands curl into fists, see Marcus’s jaw clench tighter, notice how Elijah’s fingers have stilled their nervous drumming.
They’re all thinking the same thing I am. We’re trapped. The Bishop is dismantling our defenses, forcing us toward confession or destruction.
“We could tell the truth.” Marcus’s voice is quiet but steady. “All of it. Face the consequences together.”
“That would destroy Charlie.” Adrian’s response is immediate, fierce. “She’d be labeled a seductress who corrupted three men of God. Her reputation, her future, everything would be ruined.”
“And you’d all lose your positions.” I force the words past the lump in my throat. “The church would be shut down. Everything you’ve built would be destroyed.”
“So what do we do?” Elijah’s crystalline blue eyes move between us. “Keep lying? Hope the Bishop gives up?”
“He won’t give up.” Adrian’s voice is flat. “Men like him never do. He’ll keep pushing until something breaks.”
I look at each of them in turn. Adrian with his severe beauty and barely controlled violence, standing rigid by the wall like he’s fighting himself.
Marcus with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes burning with protective fury.
Elijah perched on the table’s edge, his delicate features shadowed with worry.
These men who’ve become my entire world, who’ve shown me what love looks like when it’s real and complicated and worth fighting for.
“Then we make sure nothing breaks.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “We stick to our stories. We’re careful. We survive this.”
Adrian’s gray eyes hold mine, and I see everything he’s not saying. The fear. The love. The desperate need to protect me even if it costs him everything. His jaw clenches as he fights the urge to cross the room and pull me close.
Marcus shifts his weight, and I catch him staring at the curve of my hip where my dress clings.
