Page 21 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

Mercy is mine. Not theirs. Not anyone else’s.

Mine to ruin. Mine to devour. To keep.

“Oh, Eminence,” Mercy says to Valerio, oblivious to my mood. “You look so . . . flustered.”

“You are a trespasser, girl. A heretic in a holy place.”

“But you invited me. Right?”

“Your very presence here is a violation of the Sanctum,” he spits.

They don’t even care that Mercy has caught them in a blatant lie. They have nothing but gold and gaslighting. There is no God in this room, only a boys’ club built on the bones of better men.

“Violation? Little old me?” She lets out a soft, breathy laugh that echoes. “I’m just a woman.”

“You’re the reason for this apocalypse!”

Her jaw drops as she spins to me and raises her brows. “So now they believe.”

My teeth grind. “Perhaps we should go straight to the Pope.”

Valerio snarls. “The Holy Father is praying for the world, Francisco. He doesn’t have time to entertain the delusions of an exorcist who has lost his way.”

“Quite the backflip,” Mercy answers for me. “Only moments ago, you were begging for his patronage.”

“That was before he let the enemy in.”

“Funny,” she scoffs, “That you think I need anyone to let me do anything.”

“Guards!” Lars shouts.

“Your guards are taking a nap.”

Mercy calmly sashays toward them. The damp, white towel clings to every curve. I’m not the only one mesmerized, but since I am the only one standing between her and the door, no one else sees the angelic sword tucked between her shoulder blades, hiltless handle peeking out from the towel.

She wiggles her fingers at me behind her back, drawing my attention to the twinkling ring on her finger. I focus through the steam and recognize it from the abbey reliquary. A poison ring.

“Now . . . where was I . . .” She uses her hands like a frame, angling them around the walls as if she’s about to take a picture. “Since it’s clear you’re unwilling to play nice, let me give you a warning. I’ve already taken a gazillion photographs and videos of the rooms out there while I was snooping through your files. My team has copies waiting to distribute.”

“You think blackmail will force us to legitimize your organization?” Valerio’s jowls wobble with his fury.

“Blackmail?” Her laugh is a breathtaking sight. “No. That’s what you’re attempting to do to Cisco.” She scoops more water onto the hot stones. Through the hissing, she says, “I think we’re long past wanting your approval, Marcus.”

“It’s Eminence,” he spits. “Not Marcus.” To me, he barks, “You leak our secrets to your whore?”

The word is barely out of his mouth before I am upon him, across the room, my hand circling his throat. Black crowds my vision. Feral teeth in his face, I snarl, “She is not a whore.” My fingernails break skin like paper. Blood oozes down his neck. “She is the miracle keeping you alive.”

“Babe.”

Something small and cold lands against my bare back. I blink at the sensation and slowly gather focus on that one anchor point. Peace. Trembling, breathing through my nose, I crane my neck to look at her.

“If I had a penny,” she whispers, “for every man who called me a whore, I’d be a rich girl. They’re not worth the stain on your soul.”

I see the plea in her eyes, and the shame lurking beneath—the vulnerability she tries to hide from me except during confession. It’s deeper than a word, and she doesn’t need me to hurt men trying to shrink her. She needs me to watch as she stands tall.

I peel my fingers from Valerio’s throat.

“So it’s true,” O’Malley spits. “You are their dog now.” He turns to the others. “I told you he was compromised. This was a waste of time.”