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It wasn’t the fact that he’d mishandled me. There hadn’t been any muscle behind the shove, and if it hadn’t been for the four-inch heels, I never would have stumbled. No, it was how his emotional whiplash had a way of undoing me. It made me feel pathetic. Weak.
I shook my head as a mental scolding, then forced myself to embrace my surroundings.
St. Patrick’s Cathedral was a beautiful memory from my past that I wished to savor. The stained-glass windows, vaulted ceilings, and intricate design work gave the impression of a castle. I may have been my father’s daughter in the most sinister of ways, but I still found peace in my religion and in the belief that there was a better place waiting for those of us who repented for our sins.
Faith—the one thing I’d never let Tiernan take from me and the latest thing Raphael would try to take.
God and the bishop weren’t the only bosses that Father O’Brien reported to. The Flynns had the fucking keys to St. Patrick’s.
It was now clear that Raphael was Boston’s very own Nero, which meant Father O’Brien was at his mercy. Confessions were confidential—reconciliation was a sacrament, after all—but excommunication by the Catholic Church probably seemed like an easier fate than something my fiancé would dish out if the father withheld information from him. And if Father O’Brien breathed a word of my sins to Raphael, Boston would burn for ten days instead of nine.
My confession would have to wait.
Despair blurred my vision.
Lucifer’s footfalls sounded behind me, and I felt his stare on my back. I needed a moment to gather myself before I’d be ready to face him again, so I continued my path.
Reaching the altar, I did the sign of the cross before lighting two candles. Father O’Brien was no longer an option, but I still had God.
I bowed my head and prayed, asking only for what I needed to fulfill my objective: courage and resilience. If God really was all-knowing, then he was up to date on my life and would be gracious—and hopefully, forgiving.
I rose and turned around to find Lucifer watching me. His expression was mixed—not entirely closed off.
Like a demented moth to a flame, I was sucked back in. Something warm unraveled in my chest as I made my way to where he waited near the front row of pews.
Okay, maybe hate had been too strong a word.
When we stood just inches apart, I stopped, tilting my head back. I took the liberty of appreciating his strong jaw, peppered with dark scruff, and the scar on his generous lip before landing on the pools of green ink that I swore flickered with an apology.
He’d pushed me and I’d almost fallen. Surely, it was triggering for him.
Both empathy and guilt streaked through me.
I put my widow mask back in place.
I wondered what the devil saw when he looked at me. Tiernan’s whore? Something worse? I didn’t think it was Jack’s daughter—if it were, he’d have acknowledged me by now, right? Shouldn’t we have been tethered by some sort of shared grief?
I swallowed the irrational stirring of resentment. I refused to become so jaded that I blamed everyone for what only two people had taken from me. If there was a chance that I could survive this life, I wanted to walk away with as much of my humanity intact as possible.
“This won’t do,” I huffed. “I’m going to need a different church.”
The corners of his eyes creased. “Come again?” Amusement colored his tone, blindsiding me.
Heat spread from my neck into my chest. “I’m being super serious—”
Lucifer’s right shoulder dropped a fraction of a second before glass shattered behind me. In the next beat, I was wrapped in his arms as a second explosion erupted.
Gunshots. Silencers.
On instinct, I buried my face in his chest, and then my feet left the ground. We crashed to the church floor as bullets three and four struck the back of the pew in front of us. I was shoved beneath the closest bench seat.
Lucifer’s nose brushed against my cheek. “Stay here.” His voice was a soothing salve over my trembling body.
My heart thumped like it might break my ribs, but I managed a nod.
Lucifer’s hand slid along the bare skin of my thigh until he reached my knife holster. My leg jerked as he unstrapped it. “If someone gets to you before I kill him, do you know how to use this?”
I blinked twice. “Jab him with the sharp end?”
