Page 63 of The Reaper

“Certainly not you.” He flogged my stomach and my sides, over and over.

I closed my eyes, lightheaded from the pain. I wanted to cry out, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking me. Men like him loved inflicting pain and got off on their victims’ agony. I gritted my teeth and glared at him. “I never wanted to be part of this. Any of this.”

His hand stopped midair. Rage filled his gaze. “Remember when I told you choice is an illusion? Your parents didn’t have a choice. You and your brother were promised to the Church the moment you were born,” he explained, reminding me of our first conversation. “They could’ve stopped with Andrew really. We just wanted one to replace your father. But no, he got greedy.”

I’d never heard this before. “What do you mean?”

“They had to have another to pay off his debts. He had this illusion of retiring, so they had another kid—and that’s you.”

“So you had them killed because they wanted out?”

“They retired.” A sinister grin graced his face. “Andrew was always worried about you. Someone had to, since your folks never did.”

“You’re lying,” I said.

“Archbishops never lie.” He chuckled. “Now, back to your failure. We know how deadly The Reaper is so … we sent you.”

The mention of Archer caused my heart to drop and my stomach to unsettle. “You sent me to him … to die?”

“You were supposed to be just a distraction while the real Priests took him down. So imagine my surprise when you got him and almost succeeded.” He handed the flogger to one of his men. Relief washed over me. “But just like the last two times, you failed again. This one though …” He waved his finger at me. “This one takes the cake.”

“Just kill me and get this over with.”

A monk entered wearing a brown robe with a hood. His head was bowed, and in the dim room I couldn’t see his face. He moved to the side, blending into the darkness.

“Who said anything about killing you? We don’t kill our kind. We don’t take innocent lives. You know that.”

He was full of crap. I used to believe that, but not anymore. Did I used to sound this certifiable too?

“Well, I’ll give you an opportunity to repent. Tell me where The Reaper is and I will absolve you of your sins.”

Like that was going to happen. “You’ll never find him. You said it yourself, he’s one of a kind.” I looked directly into Archbishop Lloyd’s eyes. “I’m done being your little dog. He’ll find you. He’ll make you all pay in ways that’ll make you wish you were dead. He’ll expose your connection to The Firm and destroy it all.”

“Have it your way, Father Saint James. We have other ways to flush him out.” He stepped closer. “I wonder how his grandparents are?” he whispered in my ear, as if it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to reveal.

“Leave them out of this!” I shouted.

Archbishop Lloyd punched my stomach. “You never had what it takes to be a Priest.” He walked to the corner, grabbing a shiny rod. When he turned back around, I realized what it was: a dagger in a case. He pulled it out, exposing the sharp blade. “I’m going to kill you slowly.” I held my breath as he neared me, closing my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was how my life was going to end.

Thirty: The Reaper

There was no fire hot enough to burn me, water deep enough to drown me. They whispered it. Sometimes, they screamed. But the sound of terror as my name was spoken on their lips when they gasped for their final breath was music to my wicked soul.

I hit the archbishop’s head with the base of my gun, causing him to fall to his knees. The dagger clattered to the ground. I grabbed it and slit his throat with one swift cut to his carotid artery. He grabbed at his neck as he collapsed; blood gushed through his fingers when I leaned closer to him so my face was the last thing he saw before he went to hell. “Fuck. You,” I whispered.

“The Reaper,” he croaked before his head rolled to the side, his lifeless eyes wide open.

I hurried to the man behind Heath, who was trying to escape, smashing his face into a bar. He landed on his back with a loud, satisfying thud. I snatched the keys from his belt then used the crank to lower Heath to the ground.

“Who are you?” Heath asked as I unlocked the manacles. He glanced around the cell, appearing confused. He slowly pulled my hood down, grimacing at the fresh wounds marring his beautiful body. His mouth dropped. “Archer.” He fell into me, wrapping his arms around my neck. We were chest to chest, heart to heart.

I held him tighter.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, shaking his head. “You should’ve left. What about The Firm?”

“I will deal with them later. But I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” I studied his body when he released me from his embrace. My jaw tightened; he was covered in welts, cuts, and blood.

“It’s okay.” He cupped my face, urging me to meet his eyes. “Archer, I’m alive.”

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