Page 12 of Daddy's Sinner

“Surviving,” she whispers, her eyes never meeting his.

“You whore,” he spits at her, venom dripping from his words.

“Watch your tongue,” I warn, my voice deadly as I press the blade against her neck once more, a reminder that she’s still under my control. She stiffens, her body trembling as I pull her to her feet once she's done.

“I won’t hesitate to kill you,” I say, my gaze locked onto him, unwavering. “In fact, I would relish it. And considering your wife practically offered her lovely pussy to me on a silver platter, I doubt she’d mourn you much.” His eyes widen in outrage, his face flushing dark with a mix of anger and shame.

“You’re a liar!” He hisses through gritted teeth, but his bravado is paper-thin.

I laugh softly, a humorless sound that echoes through the room. “Am I?” I taunt.

His eyes darts to Emma, a pathetic attempt to communicate some unspoken plea. “Don’t look at her,” I bark, and he flinches, his gaze snapping back to me. Good.

“What… What do you want with Victor Morales?” He stammers, fear creeping into his eyes. His earlier bravado is slipping, and I’m slowly peeling back the layers to reveal the pathetic man underneath.

“Information,” I reply simply, the knife in my hand gliding teasingly along Emma’s collarbone.

“What kind of information?” His voice shakes, betraying the fear he’s trying so hard to conceal.

“Everything you know about him. His church, his followers, his habits, his riches. The same church he ministers to, the same one he uses to exploit the weak under the guise of spiritual guidance.”

“What… what do you mean?” He stammers, feigning innocence, but the flicker of fear in his eyes betrays him. He knows exactly what I mean, and it’s all too familiar to him.

A twisted grin crosses my face as I watch him squirm. “His followers, his wealth, his secrets. I want to know every dirty little secret this so-called prophet has hidden.”

His face pales, and he swallows hard. “I… I don’t know anything,” he insists, but his eyes dart to the side—a telltale sign of a lie. I expected as much. He won’t just give me the information willingly.

“Wrong answer,” I say, pressing the knife harder against Emma’s neck, a single drop of blood trickling down her pale skin. Scarlet against porcelain. The sight gives him pause, his eyes locking with mine, fear and pleading swirling in his gaze.

“Tell me everything,” I command, my voice cold, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "If you won’t confess for your own salvation, do it for hers."

He falters, his façade crumbling as the reality of his situation sinks in. This is not a man used to being controlled or vulnerable. He’s used to holding power, using it for his own perverse desires. But the tables have turned, and he’s starting to understand—his world is collapsing around him.

“I… I…” He stutters again, his confident demeanor reduced to a pitiful whimper. His gaze wavers between me and Emma, the knife pressed just deep enough to draw more blood, and I hope he understands that I wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. In my eyes, she’s just as guilty. She mothers these girls, bringing them into the church. Emma is a sinner, a demon like her husband, and tonight, they will both find peace.

“Alright… alright!” he exclaims, his face turning sickly white. His eyes are wide with terror, the once mighty man now a pitiful sight. “What do you… what do you want to know?”

I let out a low, humorless chuckle, tilting my head slightly to the side. “Everything about the false prophet and his cult.”

“It’s not a cult, it’s… it’s the truth,” he stammers, swallowing hard, the muscles in his throat bobbing with fear.

“True or not, you’ve been leading your sheep astray,” I say, my voice icy cold. I lean in closer so that he can see the defiance and determination in my eyes.

“Faith… God’s will…” he whimpers in feeble protest, but his words ring hollow, even to him. He sees nothing but merciless resolve in my gaze, and a shiver courses through him.

I silence him with just a look, pressing the knife ever so slightly deeper into Emma’s neck. This time, I dig the metal into her skin, the warmth of her blood coating my fingers, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. His attention snaps back to his wife, terror flooding his eyes anew. The fear in them satisfies me, fueling my resolve. I’ve finally broken through that impenetrable arrogance. “Start talking,” I demand. “Or she bleeds out right here.”

He swallows hard, his gaze never leaving the blood now trickling freely down Emma’s neck. He could be defiant, could try to maintain the facade he’s lived under for so long. But when it comes down to it, when faced with losing the one person who’s as twisted as he is… he falters.

“Victor has a compound deep in the mountains, his house right near the entrance. Most of the girls there are mothers to his children or members of the church. Emma is one of his offspring, and Marisol… Marisol is the reincarnation of Lilith. Temptation. She is his chosen bride, and together they will create the new Eden. They are the reincarnation of Adam and Lilith.” His voice breaks on the last word, a sob wracking his body as he reveals each horrific truth. His eyes plead with me in silent desperation, but my stare is as cold and merciless as the distant stars above.

“And you all believe that?” I ask, disgust dripping from my voice.

“We do,” he says, his voice filled with conviction, as if the words are the only truth he knows. The strength of his belief is almost impressive, despite its monstrous nature. “We are disciples of Victor’s truth, destined to… to forge a new world…”

“Destined to exploit and abuse innocent lives, you mean,” I cut in brusquely, my voice flat and unyielding. “Is that it?”

“God has a plan…” he trails off weakly, grinding his teeth together as he struggles to maintain his composure. His eyes dart back to Emma, fear flickering in their depths. “Emma… Emma cannot have children, and those women… They offer us a chance at that. That is God’s will—for us to procreate, to spread His gospel. Victor has only opened our eyes to it.”

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