The Church (The Cloister Trilogy 3)

“Son.” He lets the word hang, beats passing by as he stares up at me. His dark eyes are familiar. But they’re so hard now, even more so than I remember. “I’ve made my judgment. Adam will remain on the cross.”

“He’ll die!” I step toward him, and Castro rises.

“And that’s his own fault!” my father roars and slams his hand on the desk. “He ran headlong at this punishment, and I had to give him what he deserves. I am the Prophet, Noah! Not just a man, not your father, not anything except the direct emissary of the Almighty! My judgment is final.” His chest heaves as he glowers at me.

My righteous anger recedes until all I’m left with is desperation. “Dad, please.”

“Get out.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “I have meetings.”

“Dad, you—”

“You heard him.” Castro steps toward me, his gun cradled in his arms like a baby. “Move.”

I stare at Dad, but he doesn’t look at me. I’ve been dismissed, and Adam’s death warrant signed. There is no changing any of it.

“I do have one task for you.” His voice is calm now, the mask back in place.

I don’t respond, just stand outside his door and wait. Zion leans against the wall near the main staircase, his smug smile a punch to my gut. I hate that guy.

Dad continues, “Delilah needs a new Protector. She’s returning to the Cloister. I’m assigning you.”

More weight piles onto my back, but I don’t care anymore. I’m about to make some mistakes, big ones—so a little extra bullshit from my father barely makes a dent.

“Go to her tonight. Use a firm hand. She’s gotten out of control. Adam went too easy on her, and now she’s a feral bitch. Get her back in line.”

I walk away, my steps hollow in the gilded foyer.

“Don’t fail me, son.” His cold voice follows me. “There’s always room for more on the cross.”

I creep through the trees, my dark clothes warding off the cold and prying eyes. The icy wind reminds me that I need to hurry, to get to Adam as quickly as possible. But if I’m not careful, one of the guards will bust me, and then there’ll be no saving anyone. So, instead of rushing toward the punishment circle, I ease through the underbrush, keeping my eyes and ears attuned to any noises. A few animals scuttle through the dry leaves, and the wind knocks some of the trees together. Other than that, the night is still.

The crosses finally come into view. I’m on the backside of them, and I squint into the dark to try and find Adam’s figure on the middle cross. I can’t see him. Must be the angle. I circle around a bit, edging nearer and peeking toward the road. The guard is out of view, but I know there’s at least one stationed at the entrance to the punishment circle. Dad wouldn’t leave Adam’s death to chance. I swallow the thought; it scrapes down my throat like a tangle of thorns. For the hundredth time today, I think about how badly I need a drink.

Keep it together. You owe him that much.

I reach into my pocket and palm my pistol. Killing has never been something I’ve wanted. But now, I see no other way around it. If the guard catches me, I’ll have no other option. I just hope that I can get Adam down without anyone seeing.

Easing closer, I hug the edge of the circle. The clouds strangle what little moonlight there is, leaving the ground shadowy. But I think I see a lump near the foot of the cross. I still haven’t spotted Adam, which seems wrong. I’m far enough to the side to have a view of him, but … maybe my eyes are deceiving me, because it seems like he isn’t there. Did Dad change his mind?

I bury that little spark of hope and ease closer. But it isn’t a trick. The cross is bare. No Adam. The lump on the ground groans and rolls over.

The fuck?

“Gray?” I take another step and turn my head to the cross. He’s gone, and from the looks of Gray, it wasn’t my father’s decision to bring him down. I slide my pistol into my pocket and try to process what the hell is going on. Someone saved Adam before I even got here. Who?

Gray sits up and rubs the back of his head. “Shit.” When he lifts his eyes to the empty cross, he spits a litany of curses, then turns to me. “Was it you?”

“Was it me what?” I smirk. “I just came out here to say my goodbyes and found your dumbass on the ground. Where’s Adam?”

He scrambles to his feet and stares, slack jawed, at the cross. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”

I laugh, unable to bottle my glee. “You lost him.” My laughter invades the frosted air, out of place but so, so good. “You had one job, asshole. One job!”