Christmas music wafts through the foyer of the Prophet’s home, and dignitaries mill about. The Christmas Eve bonfire draws the filth of the earth like moths. Senators, governors, CEOs—they’re all here drinking and carousing in the hour before the ceremony is set to start.

“And this is my son, Adam.” My father pulls me into a conversation he’s having. “Adam, this is Senator Roberts.”

I force a smile and shake hands with the man. He’s mid-thirties and trim. I’m certain I’ve seen him before.

“Nice to meet you. Your father is truly a man of God. And I’ve learned some new, Biblical teachings during my visits to the Chapel here at Heavenly.” He grins broadly at his too on-the-nose joke.

“We’re glad to have you.” I keep the fake smile, and it works, because the senator takes another drink from his glass.

“The Senator is here looking for the future Mrs. Roberts.”

“We have plenty of Maidens that I’m certain will spark your interest.” I take a crystal glass from a passing tray. Champagne, of course.

“I think I already have my eye on a certain one.”

“Oh? How so?” I don’t miss my father’s grin.

“I ran into one at the Chapel. She didn’t belong there. But she certainly whet my whistle for more of what she had to offer.”

I grip my glass too hard. The only Maiden I know of that’s been to the Chapel is Delilah.

“Well, you’ll have the pick of the litter, I can assure you.” My father claps him on the back and shoots me a pointed look. “I need to go over final preparations with Adam for this evening, but please make yourself at home. If there’s anything you need, you simply have to ask.”

“Will do.” Roberts raises his glass to my father, then turns to mingle in the crowd—most of them potential suitors for one of my father’s Maidens.

I follow my father to his office. He closes the double doors and walks around his desk.

Castro isn’t here. As that knowledge sinks in, my blood begins to pound, beating a violent rhythm in my ears. Has the Prophet just unknowingly given me a gift? I move toward the chairs as my father flicks on the screen behind him. Delilah and I are there, our bodies moving as I fuck her.

“I really enjoyed this show.” He turns toward the screen.

I edge closer. There’s a heavy paperweight in the shape of a cross I can use to do it. Expedient. Though I’d rather use my bare hands.

“Did you know your Maiden’s cunt looks like a lily, the lightest shade of pink on earth? She showed me, opened her legs wide and offered me everything.” Satisfaction punctuates every one of his words.

They sting, but not as much as they could. I’ve already tasted the heaven between her thighs, and she’s given me everything. My father will never be able to touch what Delilah and I shared.

I’m at the side of the desk, moving slowly as my father stares at the video. He’s just the sort of degenerate who can get his rocks off while watching his son fuck someone.

A few more steps and I’ll be close enough to strike. My fingers graze the paperweight. I slow my breathing, a calm falling over me. It always feels like this when I’m about to deliver the death blow. Serene. The calm before the burst of adrenaline and the splash of blood.

“She’s rare. The way she looks like a ghost, that weird hair and eyes. Senator Roberts took a shine to her right off. He’s already made an offer.”

One more step. I take it, the paperweight in my palm.

My hands go cold, lethal. I can see the pulse in his leathery neck. This is it.

“I won’t accept it, of course. It’s not good enough. And she needs more time at The Cloister.” He shrugs, completely unaware of the viper at his back.

I raise my hand. I’ll bludgeon him, wrestle him to the floor, then squeeze the life out of him. Hide his body, rush upstairs, grab Mom, then over to Noah’s place, then to the Cloister. I’ll kill whoever I have to if it means our freedom.

It’s all right there, within my grasp.

The door opens.

Castro steps in and reaches for the piece in his chest holster.

My heart thumps out of rhythm, and I replace the paperweight, then step back and lean against the desk.

Castro narrows his eyes. “What were you doing?” His hand is on the butt of his pistol.

“Watching a little bit of action, thanks to—” My father turns, and his eyes widen when he finds me right next to him. He blanches, then stumbles backwards.

“What?” I smirk, enjoying the fear that paints his face. He needs to be scared more often, needs to realize that no one’s life is eternal, not even his.

“You have the look of death about you. You were going to—”

“Kill you with a house full of politicians and law enforcement?” Yes I was. “Not a chance.”

“Step away, asshole.” Castro pulls his gun.

I hold my hands up and walk around the desk, then sink into a chair. “Why so jumpy?”

My father swallows hard, then swipes a hand across his face. “Nest of rattlesnakes.” He scowls at me.

In the video, I pull Delilah upright so she’s sitting on my cock as I pound inside her. “Can I get a copy of this?”

Castro holsters his pistol and stares. I don’t even want to think about him popping wood while watching Delilah. My blood demands vengeance. I lean my head back on the chair, the picture of ease while my thoughts race. I was so close, so fucking close. Did I hesitate?

“Never alone, Castro. Not with him.” My father points at me. “You know better.”

“Sorry.” Castro bows his head. “I had to take a piss.”

“Take a piss on your own fucking time!” My father’s voice shakes, likely cutting through the “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful” playing in the rest of the house.

“You’re afraid?” I cock my head to the side as if I’m surprised. “Why on earth would you be afraid of your own son?”

“Don’t play games with me, boy.” He slams the controller, pausing the recording right when I shoot my load all over Delilah’s perfect ass. I really do want the video.

“No games. Was there something you wanted besides this?” I point to the screen.

My father sits and yanks open his drawer. It’s powder time.

“I wanted to double-check the preparations. The Father of Fire is expecting an extravagant tribute.”

“Everything’s in order.” I’ve triple-checked everything with Grace. If a single bow of fucking holly is out of place, I’ll be shocked as hell.

“It better be.” He snorts a line, then pinches the powder off his nostrils. “If anything goes wrong, I’m inclined to sacrifice you to the Father of Fire in payment.”

“Do what you have to do.” I inspect my nails. “But everything is set. The Maidens will look like whores. The whores will look like whores. Alcohol and drugs once the congregants leave. And everyone will have a good time.”

He sits back, his beady eyes focused on me. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I hate to break my disappointment streak, but tonight, you’ll be happy with me.”

He waves an annoyed hand at me. I’m dismissed.

I rise and walk to the doors. When I touch the handles, he says, “Don’t think I don’t know what’s in your heart, Adam.” He uses the gentle voice, the one steeped in a coercion so soft it feels like silk. “The Lord has warned me about you. He’s also promised me that I won’t die by your hand. So whatever plans you have, you may as well abandon them, son. They won’t come to fruition.”

“Good to know.” I open the door and stalk out, slamming it behind me.

A few heads turn, but most of them go back to their drinks and their chatter. I don’t have time for niceties.

Grace beelines toward me, her ridiculous black habit blowing behind her. I turn and head down the stairs. She follows.

“What?” I stop at the bar and pour myself a stiff one, not offering her a single drop.

“I just wanted to tell you all the girls are ready.” She casts a glance toward the far side of the basement, towards the door with the bar leaning against the wall next to it.

I slam the booze back and pour another.

“Did you hear me?” She steps closer.

“Yes.” I bite the word off and swallow the second drink.

“Adam.” She reaches out, her fingers brushing my arm. I toss my glass down and turn to leave.

She won’t leave me alone, not till she says whatever the hell she came here to say. I know her too fucking well.

I stop. “Spit it out. I have shit to do.”

She fidgets with the edge of her habit. “Aren’t you even going to ask why I did it?”

“Why you did what?”

She moves even closer. “Lied for you,” she whispers. “The day you fucked that slut.”

I can’t kill her here, no matter how much I want to. It wouldn’t be difficult to drag her to the room where she let Faith die in my arms, but I refuse to tarnish that space with Grace’s blood. “I can only assume it’s because you want something out of it.” I meet her gaze, hatred sizzling beneath my skin.

Her lip trembles. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t get to say those words to me, Grace.” I keep my hands off her, though the thought of cracking her neck still brings untold comfort.

“I was young and stupid and still under his influence.” The words pour out, and I can hear the truth in them, but it doesn’t change my mind.

“You can’t make up for Faith, Grace. You can lie for me, help me, follow my every command, but I will never forgive you. Next time you have me over a barrel, I suggest you drown me. Because if you don’t, I’ll come for you one day.” I turn on my heel as tears streak down her face.

“Adam—” her voice breaks as she sinks to the floor.

She’s broken, but I can’t fix her.

Fuck, I can’t even fix myself.