Late that night, I call an emergency meeting in the church crypt.
The stone walls feel like a tomb as Marcus and Elijah descend the narrow stairs, their faces grim in the dim light.
We stand surrounded by decades of forgotten parish records, the weight of history pressing down on us.
“The Bishop gave me an ultimatum.” My voice is raw. “Send Charlie away, or we’re all reassigned to separate dioceses. We’ll never see each other again.”
Marcus’s jaw clenches, the muscle jumping beneath his olive skin. “That’s not a choice. That’s extortion.”
“It’s the reality we’re facing.” I grip my rosary beads until they cut into my palm. “And there’s more. Robert Chen is threatening to go to the police about Elijah. Claims Sarah told him about months of grooming and inappropriate behavior.”
Elijah’s face goes pale. “It’s not true. None of it is true.”
“I know.” I meet his gaze. “But true or false doesn’t matter anymore. The accusation alone will destroy us during the Bishop’s investigation.”
“So what do we do?” Marcus’s accent thickens with stress. “Confess everything? Face the consequences together with dignity?”
“That would destroy Charlie.” My voice rises despite my attempt at control. “She’d be labeled a seductress who corrupted three men of God. Her reputation, her future, everything would be ruined.”
“And sending her away protects her?” Elijah’s voice is sharp. “Making her feel like she’s the problem, like she’s something to be discarded?”
“It keeps her safe from the Church’s judgment.” I force the words past the lump in my throat. “It gives her a chance at a normal life.”
“Without us.” Marcus’s hands curl into fists. “You’re talking about erasing her from our lives to save our careers.”
“I’m talking about protecting her from becoming collateral damage in our failures.” My control is fracturing, the violence I’ve suppressed for twenty years threatening to break free. “We did this. We crossed lines we shouldn’t have crossed. She deserves better than being destroyed because we couldn’t control ourselves.”
The air grows thick with desperation and barely contained panic. We argue in circles, each solution worse than the last. Send her away and break her heart. Confess everything and destroy her reputation. Keep lying and watch the Bishop destroy us all.
None of us notice the shadow in the doorway. The figure who’s been listening to every word.
“So that’s your solution?” Charlie’s voice cuts through our argument like a knife. “Send me away like I’m the problem?”
36
CHARLIE
The email arrives before dawn, sender unknown, subject line blank.
My hands shake as I open it on my phone, still half-asleep in my small apartment.
The video file loads slowly, and for a moment I think it’s spam, something I should delete without watching.
Then I see him.
Adrian. Twenty years younger, shirtless in a makeshift ring surrounded by screaming crowds.
His body is leaner, harder, covered in sweat and someone else’s blood. But it’s his face that makes my stomach drop.
The savage pleasure twisting his features as he demolishes his opponent, fists moving with brutal precision.
Each punch lands with sickening force, and the crowd roars its approval.
This isn’t self-defense or sport.
This is violence for its own sake, and the man delivering it looks like he’s enjoying every second.
The Adrian I know quotes scripture and grips his rosary beads until his knuckles turn white.
