Chapter 6

Benedict

You can’t mistake the color of those eyes. The piercing blue that haunts my dreams and keeps me awake late at night. They’re unforgettable, like the deep, clear waters of an untouched lake, with a gaze that seems to pierce right through to your soul.

For some reason, Lina doesn’t want me to know who she really is, and I’ll keep her secrets. I keep everyone’s secrets. Secrets that, if ever revealed, would probably cause the whole town of Saint Pierce to combust.

My confessional booth holds many tales. I’m the keeper of them all. I sit in the dimly lit booth, the heavy wooden screen separating me from the confessors. The flickering candlelight casts shadows, creating an atmosphere of reverence and mystery. I listen to their whispered confessions, their sins and regrets, the burdens they carry. Each story is a piece of their soul, laid bare in the sacred space of the church.

The weight of these secrets is immense, but it’s a burden I’ve chosen to bear. There’s something both humbling and haunting about being trusted with the innermost thoughts and fears of the people who come to me. Their confessions range from minor transgressions to deeply troubling revelations, and I hold them all with the same solemnity and care.

As I look at Lina, I wonder what her secrets are. What past is she hiding beneath that short black bob wig and the layers of makeup? Her transformation is remarkable; she’s become a different person tonight, a version of herself that’s bold and unrecognizable. But those eyes, those piercing blue eyes, give her away. They are windows to her soul, filled with pain and resilience.

She returns to work, and I watch her like a hawk, stalking its prey.

The music in Club Greed continues to pulse, the bass reverberating through the floor. Here, amidst the opulence and decadence, the lines between sinner and saint blur.

I watch Lina as she works, her movements graceful and confident. She’s good at this, at playing the part she needs to survive. I understand the necessity of wearing masks, of hiding true identities. It’s a survival mechanism in a world that often demands more than it gives.

I take a deep breath, the scents of desire and lust mingling in the air. I’ll keep Lina’s secrets, just as I keep everyone else’s. It’s the least I can do in a world that’s quick to judge and slow to forgive. Secrets are safe with me, locked away in the vault of my soul, never to see the light of day.

As the night progresses, I continue to watch Lina, wondering about her. What brought her to my parish?

Why me?

And how am I supposed to not want a woman like her? I’m a man with needs. Needs that haven’t been met in years. Except by my trusty hand.

My thoughts are consumed by Lina—Evangelina.

“Care for anything else?” she asks me as the hour grows late.

I need to head home, but a small part of me doesn’t want this night to ever end. “I’ll cash out,” I tell her, grabbing my wallet from the inside of my suit jacket.

“No bill tonight. Devereaux Huxley took care of it.” Her smile radiates, and the sight of it goes straight to my cock.

“Is he here?”

She shakes her head no. “He left for the evening.”

“I should do the same.” I stand from the table. “Lina, it was so great to meet you. Maybe next time I come, you and I can get to know each other better?”

She smiles. “I’d like that.”

Should I tell her I know who she really is? No, it’s more fun this way.

I leave the club, but don’t want to head home just yet. Instead I head to another bar across town, making a call to Vin to meet me.

I sit in a corner booth, tucked away near the back of the dimly lit joint. The flickering neon sign outside casts faint shadows through the window, splashing red and blue light onto the worn wooden table. The air smells of stale beer and fried food, and the low murmur of conversations hums in the background, blending with the soft clatter of dishes from the bar. My fingers drum lightly on the edge of the booth as I stare down at my half-empty glass, the condensation dripping lazily down the side.

When Vin slides into the booth across from me, his face looks as tired as I feel. “I didn’t think you’d come,” I mutter, not bothering to meet his eyes. He’s always got that air of confidence, but tonight, it feels different.

“It’s late. What’s up?” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s already bracing for what I’m about to say.

I shake my head, frustration gnawing at my insides. “I can’t do this anymore, Vin. I’m done.”

Vin’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usually composed expression. “What do you mean, you can’t? Of course you can. You have to. We’ve been at this too long to back out now, and you know we’re close.”

Close. I hear that word so often, it’s lost all meaning. It’s like Vin’s personal mantra, his fix-all solution to everything. But these past seven months have been a slow grind, wearing me down bit by bit. The late nights, the constant paranoia, the feeling like I’m always one step behind—it’s all weighing heavily on me. I don’t know which way is up or down anymore.

I scrub a hand down my jaw, the stubble rough against my palm, and let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, Vin. I feel like there’s something we’re missing. Something big.”

Vin leans forward, his eyes narrowing, trying to read me. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admit, shaking my head as frustration surges through me again. “But we’ve been listening in on these meetings for months, and we’re no closer than we were when we started. It feels like we’re chasing shadows.” I take a long pull from my beer, the bitterness of it doing little to dull the knot of anxiety tightening in my gut. “Honestly, I don’t know if we’re close at all.”

Vin clears his throat, his gaze hardening. He’s always the one to keep pushing, to tell me to hold on, but I can see the doubt flickering beneath his words, too. “Listen to me, we’re close. I know something big is about to go down. We’ve got inside sources saying they’re moving something huge soon. We just need to stay sharp, stay on top of our game. This is what we trained for. You can’t back out now.”

I nod slowly, but my mind’s not fully there. I’m trying to believe him, trying to convince myself that all this waiting, all this stress, is about to pay off. But there’s that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me otherwise. “I know,” I murmur, though the words feel hollow as I say them.

Stay sharp, which is code for don’t let anything, or anyone, distract you from the mission. That’s easier said than done.