"You agreed to fucking discipline me for my father?" I choke out.
The pain in my chest is overwhelming.
"To keep you safe," He mutters, his arms cautiously landing on mine. "To keep you away from him the only way I know how."
My mind reels, trying to process everything that’s happened, the fearful faces of the children flashing before my eyes. "Where are they, Roman?" I ask again, my voice barely above a whisper. His mouth clamps shut, the truth too heavy to speak.
"I don’t know," He finally admits, his voice breaking. "I won’t know until that meeting on Sunday."
I try to hold back my sobs, but they come anyway, wracking my body as I struggle to stay composed. "And Aiden? Did you know bringing me back here would cause him to get hurt?" I ask, my voice shaking.
"I didn’t know. But it was you or him. And I will choose you every time. You should know that by now," He whispers, his fingers grazing the material of his shirt above hiswrist.
Guilt crashes over me, and I can’t bear to be near him any longer. I push past him, my heart breaking.
"Don’t fucking speak to me," I scream, swatting his hand away. "Don’t fucking look at me. Stay the hell away from my brother and me," I hiss, my eyes burning with tears.
I nudge past his front door, giving it a hard slam behind me. The sound echoes in my ears, a final punctuation to the nightmare I’m living.
Finding the back way into Saint Michael’s, I slip inside, my steps faltering as I make my way to the altar servers’ changing room. When I finally see Aiden, our eyes meet, and the pain in his expression mirrors my own.
"Aiden, I'm sorry—" I begin, but the words are lost as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. The thought of my father laying a hand on him ignites a blood-hungry anger deep within me, a rage I can barely contain.
"Aiden, I didn’t know—" I whisper, my voice thick with guilt and sorrow.
"It’s my fault," He murmurs, pressing his head to my chest, seeking comfort. "I’m the one who told Roman where we were. Luca told me what Roman did. I should have known he was as unhinged as Dad—"
"This isn’t your fault, Aiden," I say, my voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill out. "I will find a way out of this for both of us."
"There is no way out, Eden," He sobs, struggling to keep himself together. "Don’t you see that? We’re fucking trapped. I thought maybe Roman might be different—"
"I don’t want to talk about Roman right now," I interrupt, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "I have to look at him all through Mass and hold it together."
Aiden stops, his tear-filled eyes scanning my face with confusion and concern. "What happened between you and Father Briar, Eden?" He asks, rubbing his bruised throat, his voice hoarse.
"Nothing that matters. It’s over now," I whisper, brushing a tear from his cheek. "He was closer to Dad than I thought. There’s no use in dwelling on that fact anymore."
"How bad did Dad hurt you last night?" I ask, my voice trembling as I search his eyes for the truth. He averts his gaze, the pain in his expression breaking my heart.
"I tried to fight back," He whispers, showing me his worn wrists, the skin raw and red. "He held me down. I thought I could stop him, but when he started touching me—"
"It’s alright, Aiden. I’m here now," I whisper, my eyes scanning the room for a robe. "You stay in here until Mass."
I slip on my robe, tightening the rope around my waist as if it could somehow hold me together. With a determined stride, I shove open the door and make my way down the hall. The weight of Aiden’s bruises and the fear in his eyes had ignited a fire within me. The thought of my father hurting him because of me is too much to bear. Anger sharpens into resolve, and without a second thought, I know what I have to do. I can't let my father get away with this—not when Aiden's safety is on the line. With each step toward the gathering space, my focus narrows, and bythe time I spot my father, my decision is made: he will know I'm not afraid, and I won't let him hurt Aiden again.
As I step into the crowded gathering space, my eyes lock on my father, who’s standing near the back, engaged in conversation with Zoey’s stepmother. The anger simmering inside me boils over at the sight of him, the thought of Aiden pushing me forward.
He thinks he can get away with this?
Ignoring Zoey’s voice as she calls my name, I stride purposefully toward my father, my hands clenched into fists. When I reach him, I grab his arm, my grip tight, my knuckles white.
He turns, surprised by my sudden presence, his eyes narrowing as he registers the anger in my expression. "What are you—"
"Don’t you dare lay another hand on Aiden," I hiss, my voice low but laced with venom. My fingers dig into his arm as I lean in close so only he can hear me. "If you do, I swear to God—"
His eyes flash with anger, but he keeps his voice calm, his tone condescending. "Watch your tone, Eden," He warns, tugging his arm free from my grip. "You’re already on thin ice after that stunt in Mass."
I glance around, noticing the people nearby beginning to take an interest in our conversation. I need to be careful. I force myself to take a breath, to rein in the fury that’s threatening to explode. But I can’t help myself from leaning in again, whispering harshly, "I’m not afraid of you anymore. If you ever touch him again, I’ll make sure everyone knows who you really are."
