Page 102 of Savior

“What?!”

He swallows audibly, returning his hand and chewing the inside of his cheek. It makes him look less powerful. Vulnerable, even.

“Guilt has a way of eating at us, especially us Catholics. When that happens, we tell the one person in the world who has to listen and can’t tell,” he begins.

“The priest,” I whisper, covering my mouth.

I wondered how a man like him got into company with the Ricci family; maybe this is the way.

He nods. “The priest,” he echoes.

“A man came in, and I don’t know his name. Sometimes, I can put voices to faces, but often, I can’t. I’ll never know whose trust I broke, making it even harder to swallow. He laid it all out. What he’d done, why he felt so awful, and every detail of where the women were held. See, he was grappling with letting them free. Of unburdening himself, knowing they were suffering, but he was afraid for his life.”

I shake my head, a look of disgust as I listen.

“Don’t judge him too harshly. Sometimes, people get themselves too deep before knowing what’s going on. The spike in trafficking in this area is due to two families getting greedy and trying to grab power, and those beneath them have been raised to listen. It’s what is done.”

I nod, my face sobering as he says, “Anyhow, I had already begun a relationship with Adresia Ricci, having officiated his wedding. I baptized baby Nico when he came along. Ardesia and I would drink in my office and go back and forth on life and faith. I have a deep respect for the man. He’s one of the good ones. The righteous. Even with blood on his hands.”

I nod, remembering how Ardesia and his men saved me from a man who would’ve continued to use me, only to throw me away when my body gave out.

Then he’d have bought a new girl to take up my spot.

Around and around, it would’ve gone.

“What happens if you break the seal of confession? Will you be punished?” I ask him, curiosity overpowering me. It’s a tricky question for him.

He sits back, leaning on his hands, eyes closing as the room grows still and silent.

“Excommunication from the church.”

His words burn into my ears like a brand, pain radiating through me for him at the thought of him losing his spot in the church.

“Did you… I mean, have you confessed?”

“Only to you,” he breathes, his brown eyes going deadly with importance.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I blurt, needing him to know he can trust me, even though I find it hard to trust him.

“I know you won’t.”

I cock my head. “How? How do you know I won’t return to New York and announce that Father Russo is a sham of a man who doesn’t covet his vows?”

He smiles. “Because while you might be an untrusting soul, you’re loyal. Especially to those you care about.”

“And what makes you think I care about you?” I counter without thinking, and how his face changes makes me regret it.

“I’m sorry, that…” I pause as he gets on all fours and crawls closer to me.

“I don’t think you care about me, Sloane. I know. I know it like I know a storm brings wind and winter brings cold. Deep in my bones, I know I can trust you, and I don’t know why or how,so don’t ask. It’s an unnerving, overwhelming feeling, though. I’ll tell you that much.”

He’s so close.

The spicy and dense scent of his cologne wafts up my nose with each inhale, making telling myself he’s wrong for me even harder than it already is.

“Do you think you’ll ever confess and leave the church?” Not only had he broken the seal of confession, but everything he’s done with me compounds on top of that sin, making his vows void; both he and I know it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, sitting back on his haunches.

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