CHAPTER 0117
JULIAN’S POV
Well, at least that was what I thought.
Her eyes scanned the place slowly–too slowly–and that’s when my gut twisted. I stiffened, prepared for a sudden move. Was she about to bolt? If she did, she wouldn’t get far. Ron’s guys had already taken position at every exit. Still, something about her body language didn’t sit right with me.
It was when I showed her the picture that I noticed it–the way her gaze flicked not just to the screen, but subtly around the church. To the pews. The people. She wasn’t just stalling; she was checking on something. Or someone. But why?
Emma let out a long sigh, and I could tell it wasn’t one of surrender. No, it was calculated. She slowly raised her right hand and gave the priest at the altar a wave.
That alone was strange enough to make me and Ron share a confused glance.
The priest returned the gesture with a firm nod. That’s when it all went south.
All seven people seated in the pews–the ones I had assumed were just regular churchgoers–stood up in perfect unison. Their movements were crisp, synchronized. Not the kind of reaction you’d expect from innocent bystanders. They weren’t just ‘random worshippers. They were hers.
“What the hell…” Ron muttered beside me, already shifting his weight, preparing for anything.
The group started walking toward us, slow and purposeful, their expressions unreadable. One of the men, broad–chested and probably ex–military from the look of him, stopped just a foot away from Emma and asked, “Is there a problem here, Mrs. Emma?”
Mrs. Emma? That alone told me everything I needed to know. She was no victim. She was in control.
“As a matter of fact,” she said with an annoyingly calm smile, “yes. These two men are disturbing my peace.”
Disturbing her peace? My blood boiled.
She had the nerve to say that after helping frame my sister and ruining her life? She took money to be part of a dirty job, and now she was acting like a saint in the pews.
The guy turned his attention to us and crossed his arms. “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
I squared my shoulders and met his gaze head–on. “This isn’t your concern, buddy. And for the record, this is a public place–you don’t get to ask me to leave.”
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Just then, a deeper voice cut through the tension. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome, Mr.”
I turned. It was the priest. The same one who’d just been standing at the altar not even five minutes ago. Now he stood just a few feet from us, eyes cold, jaw set.
“I don’t appreciate you being in my church,” he said sternly. “So you and your friend
need to leave.”
From a quiet church setting to a standoff with seven hostile men and a priest backing her up–it happened fast. Ron’s hand subtly drifted toward his waistband. I didn’t blame him. I was already planning our next move in my head.
“Look,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm, “I just need her to come with me briefly. That’s all. Then she can go back to… whatever this is.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” the priest barked.
“And I said no!” Emma snapped, her voice sharper this time. “You don’t get to come here and make demands like you own the place!”
My jaw clenched. This was supposed to be a simple pickup. Get her. Get the
confession. Get out
“You heard the lady, now you go,” one of the men said coldly, taking a slow step forward. His hand casually slid into his pocket, revealing the glint of a small knife tucked into his waistband–just enough for me to notice, not enough for anyone else to panic. A silent threat.
So much for not coming to a war. I cursed internally. The one time I asked Ron and his guys to leave their gear behind, thinking we’d be walking into a peaceful environment, and this happens. Of course, the one day we actually needed the rifles and vests, we were dressed like we were headed to a picnic.
I glanced at Ron. He was already shifting his stance slightly, his eyes sweeping the space like a man calculating odds. We were outnumbered, clearly. Seven guys, each probably armed with a blade or more, and now the priest was involved too? Or was he even a real priest?
Still, I wasn’t about to back down. Not without trying one more time. Violence wasn’t the plan. Never was. But leaving without Emma? Not an option.
I raised my voice just slightly, pointing at the guy who had flashed the knife. “Are you seeing this?” I asked the priest, locking eyes with him. “You’re allowing him to bring a weapon into a house of God? And now he’s threatening me with it?”
The priest’s face remained completely blank. No reaction. No movement. Just a cold, unreadable stare.
I took a step closer, disbelief building. “Are you even a real priest?” I asked. My voice
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carried a little more now, testing the silence of the room. He still didn’t respond. Not a word. And somehow, that said everything I needed to know.
Is this why the whole place felt off from the moment we walked in? Was this all just a setup? The nearly empty pews, the way she had scanned the room earlier like she was checking for signals… it all started clicking in my head.
But no. There was no way Emma could have known we were coming
Still, I tried once more, my voice sharp with frustration. “This doesn’t need to go this far. How much did he pay you?” I looked at Emma now. “What’s it worth to you that you can’t even tell the truth? Just a confession. That’s all it takes.”
“Enough talking, pal,” one of the men snapped, cutting me off.
The priest lifted a hand, signaling Emma. Without hesitation, she got up, smooth and calm, like she’d rehearsed this moment. I took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her, but I didn’t get far. The men stepped in, forcing me back, creating a solid wall between us. Then, one by one, they all pulled out their knives.
Seven blades.
Seven men.
And us? Empty–handed.
Ron straightened up beside me, his jaw tense. “What’s the plan now?” he asked quietly.
I stared at Emma, who was already walking toward the back with the priest, disappearing behind their wall of muscle. My blood was boiling. I had her right there.
We were so close.
“We can’t call the cops,” I muttered, my voice low. “We’re the ones breaking the rules here. No warrant. No invitation. They’d just laugh in our faces.”
“So?” Ron pressed.
I took a slow breath, my eyes narrowing. “So we do this smart. We outmaneuver them. No matter what, she doesn’t leave this church.”
Ron gave me a slow nod. “Alright, let’s make this messy.”
The tension in the room thickened as the standoff held.
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