Page 80 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

I stop at the edge of the pool. My toes curl over the lip. Humid, chlorinated air whispers by my face, and then I feel it—a skitter of icy ants up my spine. Heart pounding, I force myself not to appear alarmed and slowly scan the room for signs of evil.

Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal the estate’s backyard, where the dense forest provides a natural privacy screen from the wilderness. It might be after midday, but it’s still overcast. The feeling dissipates. Gone.

I can’t shake the feeling of being watched—and it’s more than the spectators. It’s like I’m being studied. Assessed. Maybe it’s just the fact that Jasmine still glowers at me.

Raven is clever to think of this match as a political maneuver. Mercy is also smart to recognize the suggestion as a solution to her problem. At least part of it, anyway.

I’m not fool enough to believe a fight will win Mercy’s complete trust, but I think I know another way that will help. I will give her my cell phone permanently, and she will screen any incoming communications from the Vatican before coming to me. I will provide her counsel on how to respond, but ultimately, the safety of this Sisterhood will be in her hands.

I will give her the phone, no matter who wins.

That prickle up my spine again.

I glance over to where the Sinners are, quietly talking to the orphans. On the surface, it is a comforting sight to see the girls less fearful. But on a deeper level, it is unnerving to know that they are about to witness a lesson in brutality. This is the kind of life I was all too happy to leave behind in Italy.

Maybe there is no black-and-white solution. I have avoided the grey for decades, but that is only because when it’s murky and hard to see, and you fall, there is no one there to pull you out. Mercy will be here soon. I stare at the water. She will pull me out.

“Pssst. Father. Over here.” Ezekiel stands with Dominic and Wesley. “We need a game plan.”

I stroll over. “There is no plan.”

He scoffs and shares a look with Wesley. “If you hope to win, then you need a plan.”

Wesley looks over the rim of his glasses at me. “Otherwise, you plan to lose … do you?”

I shoot him an expression that can be interpreted any way he likes.

“Seriously,” Zeke groans. “I love Leila. Love her. But you need to win.”

“We’ll never get another chance.” Wesley nods. “They know this is all fun.”

I turn to Dominic. “What are they worried about?”

“The Sinner’s interrogations were child’s play.” His shoulders lift in a shrug. “Perhaps if they knew what we’re capable of, they would see us as peers, not toys.”

“They were having a laugh.” Wesley gapes. “During their interrogations. We all know that, right? They didn’t really think we had something to do with the massacre in Spain.”

“Wes is right.” Zeke folds his arms, serious. “That was them playing.”

“Are you sure this need for me to win isn’t because they rejected your T-shirts?” I raise my brows at him.

“No.” He scoffs. Snorts. Rolls his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. Besides, you guys won’t wear them either, so whatever. Forgive a bro for trying to help with morale.”

“They are deadly!” Wesley flattens his gaze at me, serious. “If they genuinely wanted to torture us for information, they would have. My girlfriend tried to kill me.” He pokes his stomach. “She stabbed me here and left me for dead.”

“And then she healed you instead of Prue,” I point out. “With a divine relic that you both thought was only going to work for one person.”

“Yeah, but…” He scowls. “Maybe we want to win for once, okay?”

I chuckle and clap him and Zeke on the shoulder. “You both have already won, my friends.”

They look at their girls and smile softly. Leila notices and nudges Thea, who’s talking to Tawny. Thea glances over, sees the men staring at them, then points two fingers at her narrowed eyes and swings them toward Wesley.

“Bloody hell, she’s beautiful, right?” Wesley’s smile broadens at his girl.

“Yeah, bro. You did good.” Zeke’s eyes glaze with affection at Leila. “So did I. We did win, didn’t we?”

“Okay, fine,” Wesley admits to me. “Let your girl beat you up if that floats your boat. We’ll support you.”