Page 76 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part 1

Mercy

When Cisco hits the gym door, shoving it open, a wave of defeat hits me, and I stop myself from entering. The door closes, and I drop my head.

This is going to be humiliating.

For him.

I’ll win; that’s not up for contention. It’s not arrogance, either. Just a fact. Unless he’s got some kind of supernatural secret magical power he’s been hiding, and will have to reveal, in which case I win anyway, I can deal with a physical attack with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. Literally. I’ve trained against experts in that exact scenario.

He’ll learn the hard way that my explosions can’t be trained out of me. I’m already trained.

He wants to help, and I get that, but my violence is a symptom, not a solution.

Alice never had this problem. She was the team leader before me, and she was perfect in every way. I loved her for it, too. The bitch could sing like a nightingale and fight the deadliest opponent one-handed and win, even with a dodgy leg. When she left on her extended mission to Cardinal City, Prue and I took over the leadership.

Then Prue went through things no woman should ever endure. Watching her check out while she was still alive was too much. I pulled away from her. I feel cold just thinking about it. Ashamed, and now angry again because I’m still here and they’re not.

I’m not sure if I’m cut out for the responsibility of being a leader.

The door swings open, but I’m still staring at my feet. I don’t see who it is.

“Are you afraid?” Cisco teases.

My head snaps up. The bastard is smirking at me again. He’s standing there, wrapped in holy black and white, and he’s goddamn smirking at me.

“You have no idea what’s coming for you.” I shoulder past him and glare at the room. “Whoever said you were a good man lied.”

Dominic sits on a bench press, sweating and chest heaving. Zeke spots for him. Not sweaty in the slightest. Hannah is on a treadmill, jogging as if we’re invisible. The remaining equipment is free, and the sparring mat is empty. All weapons are secured on the rack.

“Who said that?” he asks.

“Who said what?”

“That I am a good man?”

“Me.”

“You?”

The soft surprise in his voice turns my head. He quickly looks away, frowning.

My lips flatten. I poke him in the ribs. “I should have known it was a lie, huh?”

He scoffs, glances at my lips. Grins. “You are definitely afraid I will win.”

“Keep dreaming, buddy.”

I step toward the weapon’s rack, but he stops me with a hand grabbing mine. It tingles all the way up my arm.

“Not that way.” He guides me to face the door leading to the indoor pool. “That way.”

“Shit,” I groan. “We were supposed to train on the waterboard today.”

“I know. Now you can do both things.”

Is he … doing this here to help me save face as a team leader? Am I reading too much into this? It’s a coincidence, right? I mean, it’s not like he’s been cataloging my body language, learning my moods just by looking at my lips. That would be weird. Right? He’s not that attentive to know I’m worried about failing my team.

I mean … it’s his team’s mess anyway. And Jasmine’s.