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That set her off a second time. She snatched the plate I’d just ate from and threw it, shattering the china against the wall.
You’d think she’d have a bit more respect for the church and their possessions.
“Don’t you patronize me, Harlow, I’ll throw you out on your ass!” she shrieked loud enough her face turned a violent shade of red. The old bat was going to kill herself if she didn’t calm down. It would be poetic justice if that happened, but I wasn’t going to be that lucky.
No, legally she was my guardian and it was her or the streets.
Though, the streets had never seemed so inviting.
The bishop stepped in then, a priest standing next to him as he stared at my grandmother with more than a little suspicion now.
He was the one who had found out about my diagnosis and ran out during the exorcism. Whatever he’d done hadn’t stopped him from coming back, though. So, what was changing now? Were the seeds of doubt finally sprouting?
To her credit, my grandma stood tall and proud, unbothered by his gaze. I guess she didn’t fear his judgment, just that of her twisted version of God she had in her head.
“Father Lane, please take Gloria to the library to take a breath. I’ll take care of the girl,” he promised. His voice was pleasant but held an authority that had her clamping her mouth shut.
The priest nodded sharply before leading my grandmother away. Of course, she didn’t miss the opportunity to give me her usual warning glare, promising pain if I spoke ill of her.
“I didn’t do anything,” I argued weakly as the bishop just stared at me. He had an intimidating aura around him, and of all the clergy I’d met, he was above them all.
The man nodded once and I saw the pity in his gaze. It had my teeth grinding in annoyance. I fucking hated pity. It was a useless, lazy reaction at seeing something you knew was wrong but had no intention of fixing.
“Come, Harlow, let’s take a moment in my office,” he said, leading me up the stairs and down the hall.
I followed for now, unsure where this was going, but hoping this was the end to my torture. Honestly, I could run, I was no longer restrained, but the priests we passed in the hall kept my urge to run at bay.
Sure, I was faster, but I was easily outnumbered by alphas and would never make it to the door.
A petite woman who refused to make eye contact walked past as we entered. I nearly screamed as a shadowy figure loomed over her, smiling maniacally like he’d found his next snack.
It was like someone took a person and stretched them, their features blurred out like a painting someone poured water on. She was none the wiser, a clear indicator that the creature was only in my head.
“There’s hot chocolate waiting on your desk, Your Excellency.”
“Thank you.” He dismissed her with a wave and gestured to a chair across from him at the desk. Two cups of cocoa were waiting, like he’d had this planned all along.
Strange… but not the worst tactic to calm an omega. Hot chocolate was the epitome of cozy.
I also wasn’t about to fucking drink it.
To distract myself, I glanced around. Everything about the office screamed money. So much for the church giving back to the community. They clearly used it on themselves here.
The furniture was made from a polished dark wood, most of it easily weighing more than both of us combined. Every tome that lined his bookshelves looked older than Jesus himself.
He went to the fireplace and added another log before walking to his chair and taking a seat. His face was grim as he stared into the flames, his gray hair trimmed and tidy every other time I’d seen him was now disheveled. Like he’d run his fingers through it many times.
“Have some.” The mug was gently placed in front of me, and I was more than a little suspicious. “It’s safe, I promise.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that his words meant nothing to me. The scent was also rich and I was starving so I took a tentative sip of the rich drink. My stomach churned uneasily as he watched me over his own mug. Pale-green eyes studied me, and I shifted in my seat, putting my mug down and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Let me be frank with you, Harlow. I did approve of this because of the information presented to me. Now I am not in agreement, and we will be evaluating your situation again. I am not so outdated that I discount the impact of mental health. With your background and previous trauma, it’s not at all surprising.”
My cheeks warmed at the mention of my past, knowing damn well he’d read every inch of my files, likely including my therapy notes. Those should have been confidential.
I shivered, but it was not from being cold and wet, thanks to the latest round of holy water. Instead, it was from how deeply he was trying to study me, to find cracks in my armor.
His frown deepened at my discomfort, and that threw me off more than anything.
