Page 64 of His Elder

"It was love!" The shout echoed in the narrow hallway, bouncing off the cinderblock walls. "It was the only real, true, unconditional thing I've ever felt. And if your God condemns that, then your God is cruel."

Kempton stepped into my space, his face twisted with a self-righteous sneer. "It wasn't love. It was just two perverts using each other to get off. It was filth, Price. And deep down, you know it."

The snap inside my chest was loud enough to hear.

I didn't think. I didn't pray. I didn't weigh the consequences. My hand curled into a fist, the movement instinctive and violent.

I swung.

My knuckles connected with Kempton’s jaw with a sickening, satisfyingcrack.

Kempton stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock, and slammed into the opposite wall. He slid down to the floor, onehand flying to his mouth, blood already blooming on his lip. He looked up at me, for once utterly speechless.

I stood over him, my chest heaving, my hand throbbing in a way that felt incredibly, undeniably real. It was the first honest thing I had done in this building.

"Don't," I whispered, my voice trembling with adrenaline, "ever speak about him again."

Kempton scrambled backward, fear flashing in his eyes. "I'm calling President Dalton."

"Fine," I said. "Tell him I'm done."

I didn't wait for an answer.

I stepped over Kempton’s legs, walked down the hallway, and pushed through the double doors into the bright Barcelona morning.

"Elder Price!" Kempton's voice followed me, muffled and wet. "Get back here! You can't just leave—"

I kept walking.

I didn't have a plan. Didn't know where I was going until I found myself on the Metro, riding toward the Universitat stop.

Maria's apartment was near there. I'd memorized the address from our teaching records, back when Eli and I had been so excited about her as an investigator. Back when I'd thought converting people to the gospel was the most important thing I could do.

Back when I'd still believed.

I got off at her stop. Walked through streets that felt different now—not mission territory to be worked, but just a city. Beautiful and indifferent and full of people living their lives without needing saving.

Her building was old, with colourful tiles around the doorway.I pressed the buzzer for apartment 3B.

Static, then her voice. "¿Sí?"

"Maria? It's Elder Price. I... I'm sorry to bother you, but could I talk to you for a minute?"

A long pause.

"Where's your companion?"

"I don't have one right now."

Another pause. Then the door buzzed open.

I climbed three flights of narrow stairs. Maria waited in her doorway, wearing paint-stained jeans and a oversized sweater, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun.

"You're not supposed to be alone," she said.

"I know."

She studied my face. Whatever she saw there made her expression soften. "Come in."