Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(27)

She looked just like the women at the club.

“That’s what you must become,” she said to her reflection. “You must play his game. Even if it costs you your life. You must try to help him, save him.” Her neck was covered in red marks from where Raphael had strangled her.

He had strangled her.

Maria shuddered, remembering the sinister echo in his stare as he tightened his hands and squeezed. Raphael was every inch an unapologetic, stone-cold killer.

She prayed there was more inside him. Some part of him that was simply lost. Someone good deep inside him that she could appeal to, that she could foster into coming to the surface and ending this awful way of life.

Maria pulled the dress over her head, trying to not let trepidation consume her courage. Her bra and panties came off next. When she turned to face the shower, she couldn’t look back. In all these years since she had been found and freed from William Bridge’s ranch, she had never been brave enough to look at her bare back.

She simply couldn’t relive that time in her life. Not right now. Not now she was faced with this new kind of hell.

Maria exhaled as she stood under the heavy spray. This shower was stronger than those back at the convent. It was opulent, the surrounding tile a rich onyx with a gloss finish. Shampoos and conditioners were on the side shelf. Body and face washes, razors—anything a person could ever need.

Maria took the washcloth that lay untouched on the shelf. She scrubbed every trace of last night from her body—the sin, the smoke, and the acts of depravity she had seen. She knew similar acts awaited her in the coming days, weeks . . . however long it took for Raphael to grow tired of her. She glanced down at her wrists and her ankles, at the redness that lay in rings around her flesh. Her neck was sore to the touch.

Maria closed her eyes and her head fell against the wet tile. She breathed. As she tried to calm, to find her purpose in this moment, she saw Mother Superior in her mind.

“I want to stay behind the monastery’s walls,” Maria said to Mother Superior as the older woman laid a hand on her back. Maria had awoken screaming into the night, her cheeks flooded with tears. “I can’t go out there again…” she whispered. “The world, the cruel men that dwell there . . .” Maria shook her head. “I want to serve God in seclusion. Be His devoted servant.”

Mother Superior’s eyes filled with sympathy. She knew of Maria’s past. She knew the horrors she’d endured. Mother Superior stared out of the small window of Maria’s room. “Jesus walked with the sinners.” Maria stilled and tried to calm her racing heart. “He wouldn’t ignore them, cast them aside like everyone else. He walked beside them, even knowing they committed sins and evil crimes. He talked to them, tried to help them see the light.” Mother Superior turned to Maria. “Being devoted to the church isn’t about being sequestered away. It is about listening and helping when it seems all hope is lost. It is replicating Jesus’s example. Walking with the sinners and helping them find the way.”

Maria shook her head. She knew Mother Superior had lived that life before her old age brought her to Sisters of Our Lady of Grace to retire. Maria envied the older nun. She had counseled prisoners, men who had committed unspeakable crimes. “I . . . I can’t,” Maria said and shook her head, tears tracking down her cheeks and onto the bedding beneath her.

Mother Superior’s hand covered hers in comfort. “You may not be ready yet, my child. But one day you will be. One day something will arise that calls to you. Someone or some cause will arrive at your door, and you will feel the need to become the nun you say you could never be. You will follow Jesus’s path. You will walk side by side, hand in hand with the damned.” Mother Superior smiled. “And you will answer the call, Sister Maria. Your heart will tell you it’s time.”

Maria swallowed the lump that had built in her throat as she recalled her Mother Superior’s words. It was a few years ago, when her soul was still raw and her wounds still open. As she blinked into the shower’s heavy spray, she felt something click inside her. Was this that moment? Maria thought of Raphael, the club, and his hands around her throat. His golden eyes that in one moment bore softness and kindness as he looked at her face, and in the next, cruelty and the promise of certain death.

Maria’s soul was in a raging war. Fear and courage fought for control, both gaining ground back and forth, no clear winner.

But she had to move. She had to keep going.

Maria didn’t know how much time passed as she washed the hair products from her hair. The cleaner she became, the more she felt like herself. She made sure her legs and body were shaved and finally turned off the water.

Maria stepped out of the shower and dried herself with the towel. She drew out every simple movement. Finally, when her teeth had been brushed, and there was nothing left for her to do, she pulled Raphael’s shirt over her head. It smelled just like him. Of fresh water and salt.

Strangely, it made her feel calm.

Taking a deep breath, Maria stepped out into the room. Raphael was exactly where he told her he would be, on the ornate red chair. He held a glass of amber liquid in his hand, swirling it in circles, the liquid lapping the crystal glass. He lowered the glass to the floor.

“I dried my hair the best I could, but there was no brush in the bathroom to comb it through. Or a dryer.”

“Come closer.” Raphael crooked his index finger toward him. Ever the subservient nun, Maria’s feet began moving as soon as the order was issued. It was what she liked most about her daily life. Not being in control, following orders.