Page 31 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

“She’s kidding, babe,” I say, a smile tugging at my lips. “You kind of suck.” Her bottom lip pops out, and I squeeze her hand back. “But I would find a way to listen to you.”

Laughter erupts around the table, and when Tawny throws in a jibe about Raven in return, we’re in stitches.

“Alright, enough of that.” The Rev claps her hands. “We need to get on with the reports, or we’ll be here all night.”

“Ooh, an all-nighter.” Tawny looks far too excited. “Camp out?”

“A sleepover?” I shrug. “Why not. It’s been a while since we all did that.”

“Pizza!” She jumps to her feet, one hand already dialing the local delivery service, the other pointing at each Sinner and reciting her usual order. “Pepperoni, Meat lovers, Vegetarian, and you’re Supreme.” She doesn’t wait for confirmation and walks off into the quieter parts of the archives to finish her call.

“Back to the reports,” the Rev says.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Team Saint?” Leila shoots a worried glance at the staircase leading down from the archives. “They’ll be back any minute.”

“We can’t wait.” The Rev motions for Tawny to open her laptop and then slips on her spectacles. “Hannah called from the airport. She’s with Jasmine and should be here any minute.” She points at Raven, then at the ledger before her, indicating she is ready for the report. She doesn’t even look up when she adds, “And she’s bringing recruits.”

At least it’s not just me who’s surprised by this news. We all stop what we’re doing and ask for more information. Recruits? Who? From where? Aren’t we pausing that function of the Sisterhood? Didn’t we promise not to train up new assassins?

“All will become clear when they arrive,” the Rev says, giving me a pointed look.

Right. I nod. Team Saint will be back from their rounds soon. We can’t talk about them behind their backs if they’re standing in front of us.

I turn to Thea and Leila. “You asked for time to get the truth about loyalties out of Team Saint the easy way. You’ve had time. Do they stand with us or the Vatican?”

Leila winces. “Zeke’s tried to get a straight answer out of Father, but no dice.”

“Wesley too,” Thea adds. “It seems Father’s not a huge talker unless it’s part of the liturgy.” She sighs. “The most he’s shared about his true mission is what they already know—they’re supposed to dismantle us. Apparently, he just keeps telling them he’s got it sorted.”

Raven takes a swig of her flask and mutters to me, “This would be a lot easier if you boned him already.”

Heat races up my throat, choking the air from my lungs.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” I drop the pile of translations I’d been pretending to organize. The thud is an explosion in the small room. “Are you deaf? The man is a priest. That collar is a leash for a dog of God, and I don’t untie other people’s mutts.”

Raven just smiles, that slow, predatory curve that says she sees exactly how much this is tearing me apart.

“He’s a hot man with a secret, Mercy,” Raven drawls, lifting the flask again. “You like breaking rules. His vow is the biggest rule in the abbey. Break it, and you break him.”

My teeth grind so hard my jaw aches.

“I’d rather break his bones. A few crumbs of intelligence aren’t worth the drama that comes from fucking him.”

“Since when do you care if drama gets in the way of a good fuck?” Tawny points out, then grins at Raven. “It would be good, wouldn’t it?”

“A man with that much repressed⁠—”

The Reverend Mother loudly clears her throat, staring point-blank at Raven until she returns to her paperwork.

“Regardless, it’s more than crumbs,” Thea continues, ever the pragmatic strategist. “He’s their spiritual leader here. Uniting with him gives us leverage.”

I look to Leila. She shrugs, her eyes earnest. “Let’s be honest. You and Father are both walking, breathing sexual catastrophes waiting to happen. Stop pretending you don’t want to hit that.”

I scoff. “This isn’t about a prophecy, and it’s certainly not about sex. It’s about control. The Entity thinks they can send a spy here to dismantle us, to condemn us.” My vision narrows as I recall Cisco hunched in prayer after my confession, refusing to look at me. He might have claimed to want our trust, but actions speak louder than words. “I want to see the stain on that priest’s soul. I want to make him beg me to take it. I want to shatter that stoic control so completely that when he looks in the mirror, all he sees is me.”

Silence.

Crickets.