Page 82 of Remorseless

The priest huffed. “If you wish to become a priest, my son, youmustwalk away from the wealth.”

He’s a hypocrite.He lives in the lap of luxury.

“Hypocrite,” Rule spat. “You seem excessively wealthy. More so than many of your parishioners.”

“I don’t answer to you,” the priest retorted. “By the by, we aren’t here to discussmysins.”

The faint scent of incense trailed to Rule. The confession box sat in a hallway on the right side of the sanctuary. Evening mass would begin in less than an hour. Rule served as altar boy at least two days a week. Even if he was mentally up to the task today, which he wasn’t because the voices had tormentedhim all day, he had to get to that stupid get-together. However, Father Wilkins instinctively knew when he couldn’t do it, so Rule could never pretend otherwise.

“Today, Rule,” the priest ordered, annoyed.

“I want to kill Rebel.” The words fell from him in a broken whisper.

A chorus of alleluias and claps rose in his head.

You will kill her. She must die.

Father Wilkins remained silent.

“Don’t be angry with me.”

“Do you deserve such holy consideration?” Father Wilkins snapped. “You are well aware of the seal of confession.”

He was. It was why Rule never confessed to his darkest thoughts anywhere else.

“I cannot repeat what I am told even if it means my death. Which it will be if you hurt your sister and Outlaw finds out I was aware of your plans!” Each word increased in volume until the priest’s voice rose in a furious roar.

“She’s a slut,” he spat. “She led to the deaths of two good men. Now, she’s seducing Diesel.”

“Those two men deserved to die!” he snarled. Spittle flew through the slot and landed on Rule’s cheek. “Freya is nearly thirty and if she ever told me grown men tried to seduce her when she was a child, I’d want them dead, too!”

Rule slid his forearm over his spitty cheek, the words turning over in his head. “Is Freya your daughter?”

The priest snapped his mouth shut and slammed the slot closed. A moment later, he reopened it and drew in a deep breath. “She’slikea daughter to me.”

He’s good, Rule.

An unclean woman must’ve caught him in a moment of weakness.

“Your mother’s near death devastated you. Imagine what her daughter’s death would do to her?”

“She has another one.”

“Who made you judge and jury?”

“The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

“The voices.”

“They are one and the same.”

“You cannot take your vows with blood on your hands.”

“I already have blood on my hands.”

“You’ve killed someone?”

“Not yet,” Rule said impatiently. “I’ve been present in the meatshack, though. Dad’s smart. He’ll never get caught so my secret is safe.”