CHAPTER 0118
JULIAN’S POV
The loud creak of the wooden doors echoed through the church like a warning bell. My head whipped around just in time to see the rest of Ron’s guys slip inside. They moved with purpose, blending into the shadows cast by the stained–glass windows. It looked like Ron had already alerted them. They slowly fanned out and positioned themselves around us, attempting to shift the numbers in our favor. Even with the reinforcements, we were still only five men strong–outnumbered and, more dangerously, outarmed.
Let’s not forget they had weapons. We didn’t.
I kept my eyes locked on Emma the whole time. She stood close to the priest, who now looked more like a handler than a man of God. Her movements were subtle, calculated. She was trying to slip away unnoticed, inch by inch, toward the side door near the altar. If she got out of that church, there was no telling how long it would take to find her again–weeks, maybe months. And now that she knew we were onto her, she’d vanish completely. She wouldn’t just lie low–she’d bury herself underground, triple her precautions. This was our only shot.
I took one step forward, trying to cut her off, but immediately, one of her guys stepped into my path. He didn’t say a word. Just glared at me like a bull ready to charge. Every time I tried to shift my position or move even slightly toward Emma, someone blocked me. The message was loud and clear: the only way through was by force.
Everyone stood on edge, each side waiting for the other to make the first move. I glanced at Ron–his jaw was clenched tight, his eyes scanning every angle. The pews. The exits. The hands of the men surrounding us.
Then, without warning, it happened.
One of Emma’s men lunged at me, his pocketknife flashing under the dim church light. For a split second, time slowed. I could hear the sharp intake of breath from Ron, the creak of the wooden pew behind me, and the soft scuff of shoes on the floor. But this wasn’t my first time facing a blade.
I twisted my body at the last second, letting the momentum of the attack carry him past me. The blade sliced the air instead of flesh.
And then chaos exploded.
Shouts echoed. Fists flew. Bodies collided in the narrow aisle between pews. The peaceful stillness of the church shattered into raw violence. It was every man for himself.
Successfully unlocked!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the priest guiding Emma toward the side door. Just
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CHAPTER 0118
before they reached it, he handed her something–small, black, maybe a phone or a USB drive–I couldn’t tell. My attention was being pulled in too many directions at once The man who had tried to stab me earlier was back on his feet, grinning now. He licked the edge of his knife like a man unhinged and said with a sick laugh, “I’m gonna paint this place red with your blood.”
This time, I didn’t wait for him to come at me.
I dove forward, rolling along the floor, coming up fast and low–too fast for him to react He swung the blade, but I was already turning into the motion. I caught his wrist and twisted hard. With my weight behind me, I brought him down, trapping his arm between my legs. A brutal armbar locked him in place.
He screamed. I didn’t hesitate. With a sharp pull, I snapped his arm.
The crack was sickening, but necessary.
As he writhed in pain, I shot to my feet and delivered a savage kick to his head. His eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground, completely out cold.
“One down, six to go,” I muttered under my breath, shaking out the pain from my feet
I turned around, half–expecting chaos, but what I saw surprised me. Despite being outnumbered and unarmed, Ron’s guys were holding their ground with precision. Two of the enemies were already groaning on the floor, nursing their wounds. It looked like I’d underestimated our side. Ron’s team might’ve come in without weapons, but they sure as hell knew how to fight.
“Go after her–we got this covered!” Ron shouted as he knocked one guy to the floor with a brutal elbow to the temple.
I nodded firmly, wasting no time. My boots pounded against the floor as I sprinted toward the altar. Just ahead, I caught a glimpse of Emma–her form draped in a light shawl, blending in with the shadows as she slipped through a narrow side door.
Her instinct to flee was impressive, I had to give her that. But not this time. I clenched my jaw. She wasn’t getting away.
Just as I reached the door, convinced nothing could stop me now, a heavy fist came out of nowhere and cracked across my jaw. My head snapped sideways, the sting sharp and immediate. I stumbled back a step, my hand flying to my mouth as I tasted copper.
Blood.
A small trail of it slid from the cut in my lip. I raised my eyes and saw him.
The priest–no, the fraud stood there, calmly folding up the sleeves of his robe as if preparing for a bar fight at a dingy pub instead of blocking someone in a house of God.
“Did you forget about me?” he asked, cocking his head with a sickening grin.
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I narrowed my eyes at him, rage bubbling beneath my skin. “Not anymore.”
He stepped in front of the door, arms loose by his sides, as though confident I wouldn’t get past him.
Now that I knew he wasn’t a real priest, I didn’t have to hold back. I could take him down without guilt. “So, tell me,” I said, circling him slightly, “do you stand at the altar and preach lies to desperate people just to get paid?”
He scoffed. “People who come here are lost causes. They sin, ask for forgiveness, and go back out to sin again. What’s the point? As long as their donations keep the lights on, they can rot in hell for all I care.”
His words made something snap inside me. My fists clenched tighter.
“You’re a disgrace,” I said flatly.
He lunged at me, throwing a wide punch that I easily sidestepped. He wasn’t fast–age had slowed him down, and I could tell he hadn’t fought seriously in years. I grabbed a tall candleholder nearby and swung it with force. The hot wax splashed onto his face, and he screamed as it hit his eyes, momentarily blinding him.
He stumbled back, clawing at his face.
“You think this is just business?” I hissed, stepping closer. “Shame on you.”
‘I grabbed a nearby wooden stool and, with one clean swing, smashed it over his head. The stool shattered from the impact, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor,
unmoving.
For a second, everything was quiet. My breath was heavy, my heart racing. I looked toward the side door Emma had escaped through. She couldn’t be far.
I stepped over the priest’s unconscious body and pushed through the door, my focus razor–sharp.
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