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  “Well, we’ll see.” Stalking from the room, I can hear his laugh as I reach the doors and exit into the light.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ~

  “Kyden?”

  Storming out of the clubhouse, my mind is on nothing more than anger. Anger for allowing my brother to engage me in a way that my temper has taken over the reins, and anger for falling prey to his will. Seeing Scarlet striding toward the clubhouse in a drop-dead outfit and that same bruise peeking out from under her makeup just adds fuel to the fire.

  “No, Scarlet!” I sneer. Flames lick every nerve in my body right now, and the last thing I need is her.

  “Kyden…” Her voice is soft and sweet. “I’m sorry for everything. Will you let me explain?”

  It really doesn’t matter the reason. We’ve always been, and always will be, wrong for each other. “There’s nothing to explain, Scarlet. You and I are just tools of the Bows—always have been, always will be. Do yourself and me a favor. Don’t return to the church. I don’t want see you again.” My words are cutting, like a sharp blade. I feel bad, but it’s a harsh truth. Seeing her more will cause me further heartache.

  “Kyden, I didn’t have a choice.”

  “That’s my point, Scarlet. We’ve never had a choice. I’ve been running from this club and it drags me back when it wants me. It’s a noose around my soul.” As much as I’ve tried to think differently, there’s never been an escape.

  Adjusting the bow up my shoulder, Scarlet advances toward me with sadness coating her features. “Don’t!” I snap, backing away like a wounded animal. Stepping around her, I quicken my exit and leave the compound. Human contact is the last thing I need right now. Right now, I’m a taut bow ready to release the arrow at its target. One poorly said word, one quick move against me and I’ll fire, dragging all those around me down.

  To hell and brimstone. My soul is blazing in it right now.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ~

  Bracken

  “FOLLOW HIM,” I TELL SM. “Don’t let my brother out of your sight. You understand me?”

  “Got it, boss.”

  As Single Miss leaves, I rest back on the bar stool and toy with the flight of the arrow that Kyden left behind. I wanted to shock the piety out of him and blast that goodness out so badly, all for my own purposes.

  “Come back to me, brother.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ~

  NOTHING IS AS OBVIOUS AS a dangerous man walking out of a clubhouse dripping in blood. That’s how I feel. My need to tear it down as God’s archer, to destroy and redeem those that are standing against him is driving and painful. My chest heaves, my lungs seer, and my arms shake as I wish nothing more than to go back and finish what I’d started. Scarlet didn’t help. The brief conversation made me want to burn it all down faster.

  Tromping down the street, my footfalls are heavy and quick. The calm, cool priest that entered Sunday mass with a renewed sense of hope and happiness has now been left behind. In his place is the youth that stormed out of the clubhouse at seventeen with a reason to find a place opposite of his raising.

  Quint wasn’t a bad father. He didn’t beat us, but he did mold us to be the instruments of death that he wished for his club in the future. Bracken is the son he wanted. He was the trident ready to impale enemies. I’m the failure to Quint’s machinations. I was meant to be Strike. I was forceful, I was perfection, and I was the one he was proud of, until I left. Quint had nothing more to do with me after that day. And whether it was a father’s pride for me defying him, or because he had no care for Christ, it mattered not. I was out. I was left alone.

  Now Bracken is dragging me back because he hasn’t changed. Everything is to better the club in his mind.

  Scratching the skin of my arm, I relish the itch, the burn, and the tearing. Right now, the need to repent and mete out punishment is overwhelming. Everything I’ve seen in the past is disgusting, tainted, and tortured by the paintbrush of the devil. Passing the same rundown tenements, Conry and his boys are outside. Dealing in drugs, pushing it to the community, just like the Bows. My anger increases tenfold.

  “Father Kyden!” It’s said with an edge of malice and contempt. My name on his lips is a catcall to my damaged soul.

  The church has always been a sanctuary, a place of peace, and now I don’t belong there anymore. One simple moment in time adjusted too much. The wall that held the good within and the bad out has broken off. The bad is free now. The evil is tantalizing and whirling around me like smoke. The thick tendrils are palpable. I wish to cause mayhem and destruction. Walking on, trying to ignore them, I see Conry’s mouth move, but the words are muted and unnecessary. I don’t answer him. I can’t. Unfortunately, I’m beyond redemption. Passing by them, yanking on my quiver, Conry tries to gain my attention.

  Dismounting the bow from my shoulder, notching an arrow before it registers, I loose. Slamming into the chest of my mark, Conry’s eyes widen in surprise.

  “What the fuck…” is the last thing he says as his body slumps to the ground, dead.

  My mind reels with the realization that I just took a life. The young man, though misguided and wayward, has just had his life snuffed out by my actions.

  “You just shot him!” one of the other young men screams out.

  As another bends down to check him, more and more of them snap at me, completely awestruck that I’d do such a thing. I’m not.

  That was my gift. That was what DG had harnessed within me; the need to strike first and ask questions later. He’d given me and Bracken nicknames that suited our souls, not road names that were because of the club. We were his direct heirs. We were to strike fear and vet out the truth. Bracken could see into a man’s soul at a young age and tell right away what the truth was, way before you wanted to give it. He knows the truth of me. I’ve been in hiding, trying to hold at bay my true nature.

  Pulling away from the dead boy on the ground, I bless him out of habit. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” Rising, I shoulder my weapon of death and saunter off down the road, toward the house of the Lord. I’m no longer looking for repentance and forgiveness.

  I’m now looking for retribution.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ~

  RETURNING TO THE CHAPEL, I’D let the good Sisters know that their duty for the day was over. I asked the remaining parishioners to leave nicely, of course, after tidings and blessings upon each were vetted out. It’s not their fault I’m this way, and it’s not theirs to deal with. No one will be the wiser of what was about to befall their priest.

  Locking the doors to the chapel and walking into my cottage, I grab up a notepad and pen to write out letters. Whoever finds them first can divvy them out accordingly. I address each: Bracken, Scarlet, the Bishop of our district, and one to the parents of the boy I’d just murdered. Lovingly, I set them at the hearth.

  Pulling out my kit, I then dress in my cassock, cleric’s collar, and tidy up my cottage, making sure the space is neat for the next man to hold office here. I’m not naive, I’ve killed. I’m no longer in a position of holding this office for the faithful and dependent souls requiring a penitent man. Selecting two arrows, beautifully formed and matched, I shoulder the bow and grab up my kit.

  Every step I take is heavy and with worth. I’ll enter the house of God one last time and await my penance dutifully. Reaching the door to the chapel, but not quite entering, I hear my name.

  “Kyden. Nice shot today.”

  Not turning, my pace toward my fate stays true.

  Ignoring him, he continues on. “Kyden, we need to talk.”

  Pulling up short of grabbing the handle, I turn. Calmly, I say, “We’re not talking, Parker.”

  “Well, we are. Don’t open the door just yet.”

  “Look, I’ve done terrible things today and—”

  “I know. I saw the boy.” Coming closer, his demeanor is sorrowful. “And I don’t think you
r brother will be disappointed. On the contrary, you’ll be protected and cherished.”

  “That’s the problem, Parker. Protection isn’t necessary. Go back to the clubhouse and forget you saw me.”

  Rubbing his shoulder, I doubt he’s dealt with his damage yet. Under his cut, the blood still coats the edge of his shirt, staining it. “Kyden, I can’t.”

  “Look, I get that Bracken probably told you on pain of death to make sure I came back, but I’m not returning.”

  Shaking his head, he laughs. “Yeah, he said something like that.”

  Great. Give me another regret on top of my already compounded stack. “Sorry, Parker. My soul can’t be responsible for more.” Walking away, I leave him there, wondering how he’ll get me to go.

  Throwing open the door, I say again, “Go back, Parker. I’m not your problem.”

  “Oh, but you are. You just don’t know why it’s yours.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ~

  THE SILENCE IS DEAFENING IN here. God’s house is devoid of his intervention in this moment.

  I listened to everything Parker had to say, and by the time he left, he understood that my needs and his wants aligned. Locking the door behind me so that I won’t be interrupted, I’m happy about the outcome.

  “Thank you, Father.” Listening, my dead voice echoes off the empty hall. Even the lack of further sound tells me how I’ve been left to my own devices in his home. God knows I’m on the righteous path.

  As my feet clack on the wooden floors, I continue on to the end of the hall. Reaching the font, I dip my fingers into the water and recite it for the last time. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Thank you, Father, for hearing my sins. I look to atone for the damages done to others, for the sins of the flesh, for the sin of taking another life. For taking your name in vain, and for being a horrible guide to your flock. Please accept my penance as payment in full.”

  Unhooking my bow, I set the first arrow and loose it to the high wall. Knocking the second into place, I know this is right. God guided my arrows true.

  Grabbing up my tattered and well-loved kit, I move off to the rear stairs that lead to the choir mezzanine. My heart is free. Setting it on a pew, everything feels right.

  Opening the string that holds the towel, I toss it to the side. It won’t be needed. Unrolling the kit, I run my fingers over the knives. Stopping at the worn boning knife, I leave it in its place. “You’ll never be touched again.” Instead, I glide my finger down the serrated, ten-inch blade, with hardly a drop of blood that’s touched it. I’m pleased with the selection. Leaving my bow beside it, I finish the walk to the stairs and stride up.

  Removing my cassock and cleric collar on the way up, I drop them to the ground and roll up the edges of both my sleeves. With each step on the worn stairs, I count down each penance. “Father, I’ve taken a life. The young man was broken and unrepentant, but he’d never had the chance to correct his mistakes.” Cutting my arm, I watch the blood splat to the floor. “Please, forgive me for my sin.”

  Travelling slowly, I’m excited that this pain is almost over. “Father, I’ve allowed the sins of the flesh to taint my love for you and your teachings. Scarlet was my first love—my only love—and she was the one that tempted me at every stage of my life.” Cutting my arm again, more blood seeps forth.

  The remainder of my sins don’t require verbal condemnation, but the cuts are deeper and more pronounced.

  I’m not looking to survive this. Each cut is dealt in a way to assist in weakening my body and strengthening my resolve. Reaching the top of the stairs, stripping off my shirt, the blood seeps faster the more I move.

  Removing two ropes from around the edge of the choir guardrail, I tie them off against the sturdiest point. Testing the strength of it, pulling it tightly, I’m sure that my work will hold. Cutting two further deep lines in my arms, the red leaves deep furrows that showcase the tendons and muscle. It’s painful to wrap the ropes, but I deserve every bit of pain. Tightening the ropes in place, I say, “Forgive me, Scarlet. Of all those things I coveted, I had hoped you would be mine. Jealousy now has no room in my heart. Bracken, I envied your ability to walk through this life as you were intended. I’m sorry I could never walk with you.

  “Thank you for accepting my penance, Father.” Taking a deep breath, I sit on the edge and score the final lines into my skin. “In the name of the Father…” are the last words I speak before stepping off.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ~

  Bracken

  SINGLE MISS RETURNING TO THE clubhouse without my brother, my twin, pissed me off. Sending him off to the medic, Josie, I left and rode as fast as I could to the chapel on the hill.

  Scarlet insisted on coming with me, hoping that the two of us could talk some sense into Kyden. I assumed his pious ass would call the authorities, involving the police. That’s the last thing the big bastard should do. He should know by now that I’d always welcome him back with open arms. Nothing he could ever do would stop me from bringing his ass home.

  The ride over was a little longer than I wanted, seeing we had to detour around the murder scene, but I was damn fucking proud of Kyden. Strike had returned. Exceptionally, Kyden had returned more elegantly than I could’ve imagined.

  Parking the bike, I walk to his tiny fucking shack at the back of the chapel and find the door unlocked. No real surprise, but the lack of activity around the chapel is. SM had warned me that Kyden had dismissed everyone and emptied out the parish, but the place is deathly quiet. Walking in, there’s was no trace of him.

  “Where is he? Fuck. What the hell did you do, brother?”

  Stepping around me, Scarlet ventures directly to the hearth. Lying there are four letters neatly addressed. “Here, this is for you.” Handing me the one, I stare at it.

  His handwriting was always neat. I touch my name on the front, as it was written with love and care. Peeling it open, I read the contents. Every word spews bullshit and rhetoric about family, honor, and obligation to the church.

  Reaching the end, I’m positive that he’s done something stupid. Looking to Scarlet as she reads hers, the same is apparent in the way tears stream down her face.

  Without waiting to hear what she’s about to say, I run out of his residence as fast as humanly possible to the chapel. Reaching the back door, I find it locked tighter than a virgin’s pussy. Tugging on it a few good times, it doesn’t budge.

  “Fuck! Kyden, open this goddamn door!”

  With no answer, I unholster my piece and shoot the lock a good ten times before the strong wood releases its hold. Shouldering it again and again, it finally gives.

  “Kyden! Where the fuck are you!” I run through the rear and into the main room. My heart pounds. My need to find him is so strong, I forget to breathe.

  Seeing the mess he’s made, everything else falls away. “No! Don’t do this to me. No! Kyden, no, no!”

  Hitting the stairs, I take them two or more at a time, reaching the top as fast as I can. Coming upon the tight bindings that hold him in place, I yank with all my might. A gut-wrenching scream fills the air and I know that Scarlet has joined me in this macabre moment. Her sadness pales in comparison to mine.

  “Help me! Please.” My voice booms off the walls as I wrench as hard as I can. Slowly inching him back, it’s not enough. Fuck it.

  “Scarlet, I’m cutting these. Help guide him down,” I yell as I attempt to work him free. Fucking asshole made sure it was secure, tying it off at least three times on the sturdy benches. With his added weight, nothing moves, so I go for the gun again. “Come here. I need you up here now!” Her feet bound off the stairs, clicking fast. “Take this and shoot the ropes. I’ll catch him.”

  Nodding her understanding, she wipes the tears away from her face. “Fucking make it count, Scarlet.” Handing her my pistol, there’s determination in her look. I know she won’t fucking fail me. Running down, narrowly hitting any of the risers, I pos
ition myself below him. “Now, Scarlet! Now!”

  The crack of the gun popping off shots rings through the empty hall as pieces of the wood rain down. My brother’s body falls limply into my arms, and it takes a great deal of strength to cradle him. Tearing the noose off his neck, I check for a pulse. It’s awfully weak. “Call the fucking ambo! Get one here now, Scarlet.”

  “Got it!” she yells, running to my side. Tossing the gun to the ground, Scarlet starts to dial 911. Hearing her walk away to talk to them, I concentrate on Kyden.

  “Don’t you dare fucking die on me. You can’t. You’re my other half.” I talk to him in a low tone. “I’ll close up shop. Just fucking live for me.” Inspecting the cuts on his arms and the etched “sins” on his chest, I tear off my cut. Stripping off my T-shirt, I tear it apart with my knife that I always carry and continue to talk to him. “Do you remember when we used to go to the park? You were always the vindictive one. If I pushed too hard, you did it slowly. If I tried to bounce you on the seesaw, you’d refuse to go back on it for weeks, knowing full well it was my favorite.”

  Tying the shirt strips around his arms to staunch the blood, I think of all the things I’d rather lose than him. Losing my other half would be giving up the remaining part of my soul. I have very little left of it that hasn’t been tainted, but he’s the reason it’s there. Without him, the devils will run free. The demons that enjoy blood and retribution will be dealing it out in spades.

  “Don’t leave me, Ky. You keep me sane.”

  Hearing the ambulance screaming in the distance, getting closer and closer, I hold my brother tight. Tears that have never once left my eyes now flow in massive streams as I think of living without him. His good soul. His free spirit.