Page 145 of For I Have Sinned

“The plan? Killing all these women?” I question, disgust rolling off my tongue. “Then what about Alex? Where does he fit into all of this?”

“I’m so happy you asked.” Father Keaton grins, lowering the gun until it is aiming at Alex again. “I can’t let him leave here now. He’ll run to the cops and tell them everything that’s happened.”

“So then what is your—” My words get cut off by another gunshot.

In an instant, I’m ripped from Alex’s arms as his body jolts backward. Our eyes meet briefly before he drops to his knees and then completely falls to the ground. He lands flat on his back, gasping for air, and I let out a piercing scream. When I notice the blood seeping through his black shirt, I fall at his side.

“No, no, no!” I cry out in agony, putting pressure on the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

There is so much blood. It’s warm and coating my hands as I hold them to his chest. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one that makes my skin crawl, but I don’t move or remove my hands because I need to stop the bleeding.

“Celine.” Alex’s hoarse voice has my eyes flicking up to his. “Go. Get out of here.”

I shake my head, my face scrunching up when I see how pale he is getting from the blood loss.

Blowing out a breath, I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Then you’ll die together,” Father Keaton announces from behind me.

The twisted tone in his voice has my body tightening with fear. My hands are still on Alex, but I turn my head to see Father Keaton slowly approaching me. My fight or flight kicks in, and as much as I don’t want to, I push myself away from Alex and quickly crawl to the back wall.

Father Keaton grunts in annoyance at my escape and stalks towards me as I stand and grab the cross off the podium. He is too blinded by his insanity to realize that I’m holding it, but the movement of me lifting it to strike him steals his attention.

With a growl, his free hand quickly snatches my wrist, bending it until I hear a loud snap. I’ve never felt pain like this in my entire life, and the scream I let out is deafening. My fingers loosen around the cross, which falls from my right hand and drops to the floor with an audible clunk.

With his hand securely around my broken wrist, Father Keaton begins to drag me toward the water, not caring that he is causing more damage to the fragmented bones.

I dig my heels into the floor, discomfort shooting up my legs as I try to stop him from taking me any closer. But with how hard he is pulling me, my feet stutter with each step he takes.

Between my ribs, wrist, and the force at which my heels are digging into the ground, the pain is starting to become unbearable.

But I can’t give up.

My eyes dart from Father Keaton to where he has a hold of me, and without a second thought, I lean forward and sink my teeth into his hand. He barks out in agony, releasing my arm as a reflex, and I quickly turn, racing back for the cross when my leg gives out.

The motherfucker kicked me in the back of the knee.

I land on my stomach with a gasp, and when I look up, I see the cross is just an arm’s length away. I snake my body forward as fast as I can, and it burns from the unbearable pain coursing through it. Reaching for the object, my fingers graze the tip of it, and my chest blooms with hope, knowing I’m about to be able to defend myself again.

But just as my fingertips pinch the corner of the cross to pull it toward me, I feel strong hands grip my waist, and I’m being roughly flipped over onto my back. My jaw falls into a cry when the sudden movement ignites more agony, and his hand presses down onto my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Maybe I won’t drown you after all.” Father Keaton straddles me, his legs pressing into my thighs harshly so I can’t move. “You’ve been such trouble since the start. Maybe I’ll just shoot you instead to make sure you stay dead.”

The barrel of the gun meets my forehead, and my heart is like thunder in my chest as my eyes look at the cool metal, designed to end my life.

My gaze moves to Alex, who is lying there, barely breathing and watching the whole thing with tears dripping down his face.

“I love you,” he confesses, barely above a whisper.

My heart soars at the three words, and then it slowly breaks. The current situation brings me back to the story of his dad, and it’s right then that I know I can’t have him watch me die just like he watched his father.

It lights the fire in me, and I bring my determined eyes back to Father Keaton, who has now morphed into something darker. He is too focused on holding the gun to my forehead with the urge to kill me and keeping my body still beneath him, that he doesn’t notice me lift my non-broken hand, struggling but eventually grabbing the cross. It’s surprisingly heavy, and it would have been nice to use both hands to swing it, but I put all my strength in my left hand.

The cross nails him in the side of the head, throwing him off balance, and he topples off me. He groans from the impact, blood seeping from his head, and his hand meets the spot where the cross nailed him. I look to his other hand, not seeing the gun, so I move my eyes wildly across the space to find the weapon.

Once I locate it, I don’t waste a second before I’m diving for the weapon. Father Keaton drops his hand from his head once he realizes what is happening, and also goes for the gun. But he is a second too late because when his hands meet the spot where it was lying, he grabs nothing but air.

I push myself up onto unsteady legs, my broken wrist tucked into my chest, while I point the gun at him with a shaky hand. He is kneeling, holding his head again to stop the bleeding, and looks at the men behind me who are carefully watching the scene play out. Waiting for his word to grab me and finish what he’s started.