Page 82 of Ruthless God

But even as I say it, I know the truth. It’s not just about the face. It’s about who she still serves. That makes her dangerous.

I stand, smoothing my shirt, keeping my expression unreadable.

“Well, I have some business to attend to.”

Agnes nods, her hands clasped in front of her like a soldier awaiting orders.

“Please make sure the girls stay out of the way and let me know when Cecely wakes up.”

“Yes, sir.”

She dips her head, stepping aside to let me pass. I don’t hesitate. I move. Down the hall. Toward my office.

I step inside, closing the door behind me. Locking it. The moment I’m alone, I go straight to the desk. Pulling open the top drawer, fingers closing around cold metal. The handgun is waiting. Reliable. Deadly. I check the clip, the weight of it familiar in my palm. Fully loaded. Good.

I tuck it into the back of my waistband. The press of steel against my spine is like a silent promise. I grab my leather jacket, slipping it on, rolling my shoulders. One last breath before this begins. I don’t take the main door. I slip out onto the terrace, taking the stairs. Because whatever is waiting for me today, I’d rather meet on my own fucking terms.

The morning sun is relentless, pressing down on my back as I cross the grounds. Each step feels heavier, like the weight of the past is settling in my bones. Ahead, the cemetery comes into view. A lonely, fenced-in plot of land that is isolated and untouched, that sits by a lone tree. There’s only one headstone. Gabriel’s.

I come to a stop, staring down at the weathered stone. The name etched into marble feels like a taunt. Like it’s mocking me. I exhale, dragging a hand over my jaw before resting it on the smooth surface of the grave.

“I’m sure you’re getting a fucking kick out of this.”

The wind doesn’t stir. The stone stays silent.

“We’re going to dig this hole, and you’re going to be inside, aren’t you?”

No answer. There never is.

But for a long time there was. In the weeks after his death, I used to hear his voice. Soft. Mocking. I’d talk to him, and in my head, I could hear exactly what he’d say back. The sarcasm. Thesharp-edged amusement. The way he always thought he was one step ahead.

But over time, the voice faded. Until I could barely remember the mannerisms that made himhim. Until it was just silence. Just a name on a stone.

But now? Now, I feel his presence like a ghost against my spine. Not real. Not quite gone. And for the first time in years, I wonder what I’ll find when we dig.

Because if Gabriel isn’t in that grave…

Then everything I thought I knew is about to burn to the ground.

18

Cecely

A scream somewhere in the house rips me from sleep. I jerk upright, hand pressed to my chest, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. For a second, my brain struggles to catch up. Did I really hear that? Then it happens again. A sound that’s raw, terrified, real.

The covers are off in an instant. I’m moving fast, my feet hitting the cold floor as I cross the room. Thank god I slept in clothes last night. The door flies open, the hallway stretching before me in both directions. Nothing. No movement. No voices. Just silence. Then another sound.

Not a scream this time. A whimper. Close. I move, my steps quick but controlled. The hallway darkens as I turn a corner, leading me toward a row of doors. Each one closed. Each one hiding something. I slow, heart hammering. I hold my breath, listening.

There.

The faintest hitch of breath. A muffled, choked noise. I stop in front of a single door. The wood is cold beneath my palm. Slowly, I try the knob.

The door creaks open. And a young girl stares back at me. Tears carve tracks down her face, her lips trembling. She’s young. Too young. Fifteen, maybe. Her dark hair is matted, strands clinging to her damp cheeks like she hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. The clothes drown her, hanging loose over her small, malnourished frame.

My heart tightens. This is wrong. So fucking wrong.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

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