He lets the silence hang for a beat before he answers. “I know of you. Of your kind.”
“You and her were born in the same shit,” I cut in. “Only difference is she’s not pretending to be holy while still smelling like the rest of the shit. Father.”
“What do you mean?” she asks me.
“Haven’t you heard of the infamous Judas Manson?” I give a sinister smile, eyes on him.
“Cut it,” he says.
“No, I don’t think I have,” she snaps.
“Then maybe you’ve heard of the Beast,” I say, voice low, almost amused.
Her dark blue eyes flick wide at the name. “Uhm …”
“This isn’t about me,” he growls, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “You need help. People.”
“I need you to get the hell out and quit pretending you know what I need.”
He doesn’t move; he just stands there like he’s got all the time in the goddamn world.
Fucking dickface.
“You don’t even realize how far gone this is,” Judas says. “You’re surrounded, and you’re still acting like you’ve got options.”
“And let me guess … You’re the poor bastard sent to fix me?”
“No. I don’t fix people.”
I roll my eyes so hard it almost gives me a stroke. “Oh, fuck off with the messiah routine.”
“Adam, listen to him,” Isabella breathes quietly.
Judas looks at me, and I hate how fucking calm he is.
My jaw tightens, and I can feel the last of my pride circling the drain straight to Tartarus.
“And what’s your proposal, Father?” I ask, flashing a smile so fake it barely holds back the hate.
He watches me in silence, then the corner of his mouth lifts. “You’ll need a boogeyman to help you.”
Oh, fuck, no …
He enters from the office door, prowling slowly, taking his sweet fucking time, basking in the imaginary spotlight he probably thinks follows him around.
“Did you miss me, brother?”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Adam mutters, irritation sharp in his voice.
So, this is the brother Grayson mentioned.
Cain Manson.
Such an imposing man. Tall like Adam, built like him too, but leaner—like a dancer, I’d say.
His eyes are dark and penetrating, almost empty of warmth. His aura is oppressive and absolute.
There’s something off about him. Father Gabriel—Judas, or whatever—called him the boogeyman, but he seems something way worse. He feels like something even the boogeyman would avoid.
