Page 15 of The Fallen

The abbey is quiet, solemn. It’s as if everyone is holding their breath. But now, I see why. In my former convent, we were not in a sector that practiced Game Night. And even if we were, it’s not as if we made much contact with the outside world.

The idea is still foreign to me. It’s something I cannot wrap my head around. But I understand Father Draven’s concern now. He’s worried he’ll accost us, but I know differently. He’s a good man. A holy man. He’s infallible.

Spooning breakfast between my lips, I find I have no appetite. Everyone is still and pensive, nothing like the jolly merriment I’m used to with them. Was Game Night last year really that bad? No one seems to want to talk about it outside of perfunctory details.

And that’s only the ones thatwilltalk about it. Several others simply cross themselves and go on to other things. A sigh flits through my lips as I push away from the table and clear my space. Perhaps tutoring will help take my mind off things.

Unfortunately, the moment I step outside the abbey, I know that’s not the case. What once were vibrant stores and shops now stand shuttered. They’re not closed down. Not yet. But heavy iron bars line the windows and cover the doors. It’s as if the entire area has undergone a transformation overnight.

The omegas out and about speak in hushed tones as they look around, their glances swift and furtive. It’s not even time for the implant to be turned off, but their fear hangs palpable in the air. I feel it wash over me as I do my best to minister to them. But what do I have to offer? What have I to say?

I’m a sequestered little lamb, safe from all the evils and horrors threatening to beset them.

Chapter Nine

Father Draven

Four Days Until Game Night

Fuck.

The more I try to keep myself sane, the less I seem to be able to hold on to it. I glance down at the cum-stained rag as my fingers drift over my rosary. If I cannot keep it together around her doing these normal interactions, how in the hell am I supposed to keep her safe during Game Night?

Granted, with me sequestered away, locked inside a cell that no one can penetrate, she will have a fighting chance. Honestly, it should be me I’m worried about. Already, I feel the faint tingle, the precursor to the brain zap that will leave me immobile for a bit.

Now, more than ever, I’ve come to rely on my heightened awareness and use it as a tool to get myself under control. And yet, the more I seek constraint, the easier it slips from my fingers. It’s like sand falling through an hourglass—inevitable.

Snarling, I swipe my hand across the desk, casting the contents on the floor. Everything, including the damned countdown, clatters against the worn wood. But it changesnothing. Just like I cannot keep my baser urges in check, nothing will stop the countdown.

Nothing will stop Game Night.

As with every damn day since Sister Emily Agnes has haunted our doorstep, I take out my beaded flogger and say a prayer over it. Maybe I just need some time away. A day or two where I’m not surrounded by her scent.

Hell, even if I stray to the end of the earth, I’ll still smell her on me. I’d still hear those breathy prayers escaping her lips as I rubbed her clit. I’ll still feel the way her pretty little cunt fluttered around my fingers. If I’m not damned now, I soon will be.

As I begin to strike myself, I do what I can to drive the lusty little Sister from my mind. Thankfully, there’s been no more indiscretions, no more illicit confessions. At least one of us knows how to keep their baser urges in check. Then again, she could be sinning even now, and no one would be the wiser.

How wrong would it be to slide into her room and see if I can catch her off guard? How hard would it be to corner her in the hallway and ask if she’s been a good little Sister and keeping her hands to herself? But I can’t. If she admits she’s been touching herself, or worse, that she’s being touching herself while thinking about me, I don’t think I can contain myself.

It’s already hard knowing I’ll be unfettered in just a few short days. Having to punish her will be the end of me, the end of my priesthood. I’ve already tempted the devil enough.

Once my back is sufficiently bloody, I go about my normal routine. After Mass, I’ll take my leave. Surely Mother Superior cannot object to me needing some time to shore myself up before this tribulation. And honestly, it will take every fucking Hail Mary and Our Father to keep me from deflowering the innocent, naïve little virgin.

Chapter Ten

Sister Emily Agnes

Three Days Until Game Night

As the day comes closer, the Sisters huddle together, their words uttered in harsh whispers. None of it makes any sense. According to Father Draven, we will be safe here. Honestly, the only thing I feel bad about is the other omegas outside our doors being caught unaware.

Well, that and Father Draven exiling himself to the catacombs. And for what? Because he thinks he can’t control himself? Striding over to the large windows, I look out onto the courtyard. Everything is silent and still... too silent. It’s as if a dark cloud hangs over all of us.

Shoving such morose thoughts from my head, I help prepare for Mass. My body clenches as I look over at the confessional. Though I’ve had nothing I’ve needed to confess, I do wish to have yet one more moment alone with Father Draven.

It’s impractical and wrong of me to want this. Selfish, even. Perhaps I should confess that. Unfortunately, it’s far too close to Mass, and this isn’t a grievous sin that needs utterance before I can partake. As I sit there, waiting for Father Draven to come in,I clench my fist around my rosary, trying to take my mind off of the impressive Alpha.

I should be thinking about God. That’s why I’m here. It’s why I never left. Sobs catch in my throat, silent only to my heart. I shouldn’t care this much, shouldn’t want this much. And yet, as the doors open, everything in me tenses, freezing in place as I wait to catch even one whiff of his musky scent intertwined with the incense that clings to him like a second skin.

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