Page 177 of Adam
“So,” Judas says dryly, eyes scanning the room, “I see you didn’t start without me.”
Adam’s lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll take that as an ‘I’m in.’”
I have too many questions.
Judas is a priest. Supposedly humble, meant to guide, to keep his hands clean. A shepherd of God, or whatever the hell priests are supposed to be.
And yet he came here again.
Which means he knows exactly what this place leads to. Blood. Violence. Things that don’t wash off with prayer. And he walked in anyway, calm, unbothered, like he’s already made peace with it.
Adam said he used to be in the army. Deployed everywhere. Wars people only talk about in headlines. A commander his men trusted, followed, looked up to when things went wrong, but also feared for the exact same reason.
Then one day he quit and traded the uniform for a collar and never told anyone why.
Now he’s here, standing in the middle of it all, looking like none of this surprises him.
So whatever drove him out of the army and into the church wasn’t redemption.
It was something darker.
His dark gaze falls on me, raising the hair on my nape.
“Her father is a monster,” he says evenly. “Going against him is the same as signing your own death sentence. He doesn’t forgive. He doesn’t forget.”
His voice stays level, almost indifferent, and that’s what makes my skin crawl. My throat tightens, but I don’t interrupt. I don’t dare.
“Anyone who stands in his way ends up buried,” he continues calmly, eyes still on me. “If they’re lucky.”
Cain snorts and sips his scotch. Something cold sinks into my stomach.
“So why help him?” I ask, folding my arms. “If you know you’re walking into a death trap.”
“Because he won’t stop.” His eyes flick to Adam. “And neither will I.”
I scoff. “He’s dragging it out. If he wanted us dead, we’d be dead already.”
Cain swirls the whiskey in his glass. “That’s how he likes it. Close enough to remind you he’s there. Quiet enough to make you wonder why he hasn’t pulled the trigger.”
“Your father always knew where people were. Didn’t matter how careful they were,” Judas adds.
Silence settles in.
He’s right. My father always knew where I was. Even when I ran away and Wes and the others lost me, they eventually found me.
I still don’t understand how he does it or how he knows everything. I only know he never fails.
Adam’s eyes widen, like something just clicked. He jolts up from the couch and reaches for my hairpin.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, startled.
He doesn’t answer. He pulls the pin free, drops it to the floor, and crushes it under his heel until it shatters.
“Why did you do that?” I snap, irritation cutting through the shock. Damn it, it was my favorite.
He crouches down and examines the shattered pieces. “No bug,” he mutters under his breath.
Cain stands, and along with Judas, they walk closer, intrigued.
