Page 48 of His Elder

"That's not necessary," I said.

"I disagree. And as District Leader, it's my call to make." He smiled that same cold smile. "Consider it a blessing from the Lord."

We didn't speak on the walk back to the apartment. The Barcelona streets were crowded, tourists and locals flowing around us like water around stones. I walked three paces ahead, my hands shoved in my pockets, my eyes fixed on the pavement.

"Samuel," Eli said behind me.

I didn't stop.

"Samuel, please."

I kept walking.

Back at the apartment, I went straight to the bedroom and shut the door. I heard Eli in the kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing, the hiss of the tap. Then silence.

I sat on my bed staring blankly at the wall, my mind turbulent with thoughts.

A soft knock on the door.

"I'm fine," I called out.

The door opened anyway. Eli stood in the doorway,two glasses of water in his hands. He set one on my nightstand without a word and sat on his own bed, across from me.

We stared at each other.

"He knows," Eli said finally.

"He suspects."

"He knows." Eli took a sip of water. "He's just looking for proof."

"Then we don't give him any."

Eli laughed, a bitter sound. "How? By pretending last night didn't happen? By going back to hating each other?"

"If that's what it takes."

"I can't do that." His voice was raw. "I can't go back to pretending you're just my companion. Not after—"

"You have to."

"Why?" He leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "Why do we have to keep destroying ourselves for people who will never accept us? Kempton doesn't care about your salvation, Samuel. He cares about control. About making sure everyone follows the same narrow path, and if they can't, they get crushed."

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. How could I explain the weight of generations of expectation? The knowledge that my family name was tied to the church, that my father's authority rested on my worthiness, that every choice I made reflected on them? How could I explain that losing the church meant losing everything—my identity, my purpose, my place in eternity?

"I can't," I whispered.

Eli's expression softened. He set down his water and crossed the small space between our beds, kneeling in front of me. His hands found mine.

"Samuel," he said quietly. "Look at me."

I did. His eyes were the colour of the Mediterranean, deep and fathomless.

"I know you're scared," he said. "I know what this costs you. But pretending won't save you. It'll just make you disappear."