Page 26 of King of Pain

The jingle of the doorbell pulls me out of my thoughts.

My stomach drops the moment I see him—the priest from the other night. His black cassock, the stark white clerical collar, the slight tilt of his head as he surveys the shop. There’s no mistaking him.

I freeze, my heart pounding so hard it sounds like it’s echoing in my ears.

Why is he here?

Chance is in the back sections, and I can hear him humming along to whatever track is playing on the store speakers. I consider calling out to him, but my throat is too constricted to project my voice that far. It’s just me up here. Fuck.

Steeling myself, I force a shaky breath and step out from behind the counter, my feet feeling like lead. “Hi, welcome. Can I help you find something?” My voice comes out thin, almost unrecognizable to my own ears.

The priest doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. The movement makes me flinch, and I grip the edge of the counter behind me, my palms slick with sweat. He notices. I know he notices because his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile.

“I’m looking for a few records,” he says finally, his voice low and calm, but there’s something in his tone that makes my skin crawl. “Do you have‘Don’t Speak’by No Doubt on vinyl?”

I blink, caught off guard by the request. “Uh… that’s… that’s a single. Yes, I think we have the single EP on vinyl,” I stammer. “I can grab that for you. Any others?”

“Yes,” the priest says, his eyes fixed on me. It feels like he’s dissecting every twitch of my face. “How about‘Somebody’s Watching Me’by Rockwell, also, ‘The Sound of Silence’—the Simon and Garfunkel version.”

My hands are shaking now. His tone and the titles suddenly feel deliberate, like they’re intended to mean something. I nodquickly, trying to keep my voice steady. I’m overreacting. “Y-yeah, I think we have those too. I’ll grab it. Anything else?”

I glance toward the back of the store, searching for Chance. He’s still there, crouched by a sale shelf, rearranging the new lava lamp display. The sight of him grounds me, just a little.

“Yes,” the priest says, his tone sharper now. “How about‘Killing in the Name’…”

I suck in a sharp breath, the words hitting me like a punch to the gut. My vision blurs at the edges, and I feel myself teetering on the brink of panic. The priest’s gaze pierces through me, unrelenting, like he’s waiting for me to break.

My legs threaten to give out, my chest constricts as the air seems to thin. I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t do anything but stand there, frozen in fear.

“Ant!” Chance’s voice cuts through the fog, urgent and close.

I glance up just as Chance is striding toward the front of the store, his brows furrowed in concern. His presence is like a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge.

The priest, however, doesn’t wait. He sees Chance approaching, folds the paper and slides it back into his pocket. Without another word, he turns and strides out of the shop, the doorbell jingling behind him.

“Ant, are you okay?” Chance is next to me now, his hand on my shoulder.

I jump a little at his touch, then nod stiffly, even though I’m anything but okay.

“What the fuck? What just happened?” he asks, his voice low and steady, like he’s trying not to spook me further.

I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak. My eyes are glued to the door, half-expecting the creep to walk back in.

Chance follows my gaze, his expression darkening. “Who was that?”

“N-no one,” I manage to choke out, though my voice barely rises above a whisper. “Just… just a customer.”

Chance doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he grabs the stool from behind the counter and gently guides me onto it. “Sit down,” he says firmly.

I do as he says, my hands gripping the seat as I try to steady my breathing.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, crouching down to meet my eyes. “Ant, talk to me. What’s going on, Beautiful?”

I shake my head again, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the words from spilling out. I can’t tell him. I can’t tell anyone. That’s the whole point.

Chance’s hand rests softly on my knee, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles. “Okay,” he says after a long pause. “You don’t have to tell me right now. But I’m here, okay?”

I nod, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. His words, his touch, his presence are the only things keeping me from falling apart completely in this moment.