Page 105 of Beneath His Robes

Jack’s message had burned into my mind.

“Come back to your church. Or else. Don’t tell Ronan.”

The threat was clear, the warning unmistakable, and despite everything inside me screaming to resist, to stay with Ronan, I knew I had no choice. The fear gnawed at me. I couldn’t risk what Jack would do, what he could do.

His control over everyone around him had always been suffocating, but I had gotten used to it and learned to endure it. But every time I thought Ronan had broken free, every time he tried to leave that life behind, something would pull him back in. And it killed me that I wasn’t there until now.

And now it was time.

I stole a glance at the passenger seat, where the collar of Ronan’s jacket still rested, a reminder of everything I was walking away from. The feeling of his touch, the softness of his words, and the quiet moments we shared all rushed back like a tidal wave. He had been my escape. He had been my salvation.

But I couldn’t bring him into this mess, not into the web of Jack’s threats and control. Ronan deserved better than a coward, someone without so many scars, without so many pieces missing. He deserved a future that wasn’t haunted by shadows of the past, by men like Jack who wanted to break him. I had to be his hero.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe. The radio played softly in the background, but I barely heard it. All I could hear were my thoughts tumbling over each other, a storm of guilt and fear.

I thought about Ronan, about the way he had looked at me, the way he had accepted me with open arms, without judgment. I could feel the warmth of his touch still lingering on my skin, the softness of his voice telling me I didn’t have to be afraid of my past and that I didn’t have to be ashamed of it.

But now, I was leaving him. Walking away. Because of Jack.

The road ahead was empty, the desert stretching on either side like an endless expanse of nothing. It felt like the world was closing in around me, suffocating me with every mile I drove away from Ronan. My chest ached.

I thought about stopping, pulling over, calling Ronan. Telling him everything. About Jack. About the pressure. The threats. The fear that had always followed me. But then the message played over again in my head:“Don’t tell Ronan.”

The words echoed like a dagger, and I knew—if I told Ronan, I’d put him in danger. Jack had power. Too much power. That much was made very clear when he trapped Ronan in that hell instead of himself. And if I didn’t do what he wanted, if I didn’t return, I had no idea what Jack would do.

I’d seen what he could do before, the way he could twist people, break them, turn them into something they were never supposed to be. He killed Miranda. Forcing her to succumb to her own drug that she fought so hard to free herself of.

I couldn’t let that happen to Ronan. I couldn’t let Jack use him as leverage. The thought made my stomach twist in knots, and I had to focus on the road, on keeping my hands steady on the wheel.

I thought about all the things I had promised Ronan—the hope I had given him, the belief that he didn’t have to carry his past alone. But now, I was the one walking away from that promise. And it felt like my chest was being hollowed out with every mile.

I tried to push the thought of Ronan from my mind, but it was impossible. His face lingered in my memory, the way he had looked at me, the way his fingers had traced my skin, the warmth in his eyes. I could still feel the way his heart beat beneath my hand, the soft rhythm of his pulse. And I wondered if he was thinking about me too, wondering where I was and if I was okay.

I didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t want to walk away from what felt like the only good thing I’d ever had.

But I couldn’t put him at risk. Not when Jack was still out there.

The headlights of the church came into view, piercing the darkness like a pair of cold, judgmental eyes. My stomach dropped, a sick feeling pooling in the pit of my gut. I pulled the truck to a stop in front of the doors, my hands trembling as I turned off the engine.

This was it—the point of no return.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the looming structure, feeling the weight of the decision pressing on me. Every inch of me screamed to turn the car around, go back, find Ronan, and tell him everything. To let him fight with me, to let him help me through this.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

I opened the door and stepped out, my body stiff, my heart pounding. Each step toward the church felt like a betrayal, like I was leaving a piece of myself behind. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, but it wasn’t enough.

I had to do this. I had to face Jack, or else everything I had fought for—everything I had found with Ronan—would be destroyed.

I looked back at the car, my heart aching. Ronan was miles away, safe, but the distance between us felt infinite.

And I was afraid I might never find my way back to him.

The cold air cut through me like a blade. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d been in Ronan’s arms, feeling his warmth, his understanding. But now, the distance between us felt unbearable, like a chasm I was about to fall into.

The moment I had stepped away from him, I’d felt that shift, that pull of guilt and fear that had never fully left me, always lingering in the background.

The church loomed before me, its stone walls dark and imposing at night. The lights flickered faintly in the stained-glass windows, a lonely glow casting long shadows across the gravel lot.

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