Raphael (Deadly Virtues #1)(84)

The gun shook in Raphael’s hand. He unlatched the safety and re-aimed. “You haven’t asked where Maria is.” On cue, muffled noises came from inside the coffin Father Murray stood beside. Raphael’s eyes slammed to it. He heard her nails scraping against the metal, clawing to be freed.

Father Murray pointed to a combination lock on the coffin. “Drop the gun, Raphael. You won’t get inside the coffin unless you keep me alive. Drop the gun and I’ll let her breathe.” He shrugged. “There’s not much air getting in to the sinful novice nun.”

Raphael gripped the gun harder. He wanted to shoot him, to end him and free his own body from the traitorous paralysis that seeing the priest caused . . . until Maria started screaming again, and he dropped it to the floor without even thinking. Father Murray’s eyes flared at the act of submission. Raphael gritted his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. He didn’t submit. He didn’t motherfucking submit!

“Get on your knees.” Father Murray’s voice grated on his nerves, the order that echoed in his mind every day the worst torture of all.

Raphael stayed on his feet. He needed to see Father Murray bleed. Needed to see his eyes frozen in death. And he couldn’t submit. He wouldn’t get on his knees for this fucker. Not anymore. Not again. He wouldn’t let himself—

“She’s running out of air,” Father Murray said, cutting through his thoughts. The priest covered the tiny holes that were drilled through the metal lid, depriving her of any air inside.

Maria’s screams faded, and Raphael knew he wasn’t bluffing. Every part of him screamed not to obey. Then he heard pained sobs coming from the coffin. The ache in his chest returned as he thought about Maria trapped in the dark, trapped back in her very own hell. He was trapped in his. They were in hell together.

At that realization, Raphael dropped to his knees.

Father Murray moaned at the sight of the submission, but making sure Raphael was watching him, he entered the combination on the coffin’s lock and pushed the heavy, suffocating lid aside. Father Murray reached inside, and it took Raphael all the strength he had not to jump to his feet and charge, a spark of life slicing through his numb limbs at the thought of this cunt touching Maria. Raphael felt his muscles fill with blood. He readied to attack, readied to pull his knife from his waistband and run at the priest. But Raphael aborted the plan when Father Murray pulled Maria from the coffin, his hands under her limp arms. Her body was slumped over and unmoving. Maria’s eyes rolled in her head, but she fought through her fading consciousness to find Raphael. The minute she did, a heavy sob slipped from her mouth.

Raphael felt a fissure crack through his chest, so profound he gasped for breath. Seeing Maria limp and racked with pain destroyed him. He shook with fury, with unconcealed rage. Then he saw it, and everything moved into slow motion. Maria’s blanket of hair slipped from her front, and her chest was exposed. There, on her naked and bruised body, was an upturned cross, just like his, just like his brothers’. Her perfect skin was red and blistered, white where infection was starting to take its hold. She was deathly pale, and her lips were blue from lack of air.

Raphael hadn’t known he could have harbored more hate than he already did for the priest who had been his tormentor all his life. He was wrong. He was dead wrong. Father Murray had hurt Maria. He had inflicted on her pain so great she could barely keep her eyes open.

The priest had touched what what his.

Maria was fucking his.

Then the priest ran his hand down Maria’s naked front until he reached her pussy. With eyes locked on Raphael, he slipped his finger inside Maria. She didn’t even make a sound.

Fear from the past fell away like rain off a tin roof. Raphael was on his feet in seconds, lit with the wrath of hell itself. He charged across the room. But Father Murray dragged Maria around the coffin, using it as a shield, and placed his hands on her neck. Raphael’s feet ground to an abrupt halt. “I’ll snap her neck. Come any closer, and I’ll snap it in two. I’ll destroy your dream kill.”

Raphael tried to think what to do. But Father Murray said, “I told you to get on your knees.” Raphael did, every part of him screaming at him to fight back. His eyes were fixed on Father Murray as he walked toward Raphael, still holding Maria in his grip. Her feet dragged along the floor, body broken. When he stopped before Raphael, Raphael promised the priest death with his glare alone.

Father Murray smirked. “Pull down my zipper.” Raphael’s heart felt like it had stopped. Father Murray’s face morphed with ire. “I said pull down my zipper, demon!” His yell echoed off the walls, bringing the past to the present. His hands tightened around Maria’s neck as a warning for Raphael to comply.

Maria’s unfocused blue eyes managed to find Raphael’s. “No—” she whispered, her face contorting in sadness.

Father Murray cut off her words as he began to squeeze her neck. Raphael didn’t even pause as Maria’s face reddened at the priest’s pressure. He reached out and pulled down Father Murray’s zipper. Maria didn’t move her gaze from his. Raphael didn’t move his from hers. He wouldn’t let her die. He wouldn’t let this cunt take her from him.

Her gaze made him feel different from the last time he was in this room, in his position. She made him feel less alone.

When Father Murray’s zipper was down, Raphael saw his cock was hard. “Pull it out,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. Raphael’s hands shook, but he did as Father Murray said. Maria whimpered and tried to break away. But Raphael stared at the brand on her chest. She needed help. He needed to get her out of here.