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“He wasn’t your fucking sacrifice,” Dorrian spits, but he’s also ignored. “I killed him.” He’s bound, knees on the floor and held by two hooded guards next to a large Jesus cross, facing Cassie, who is sweating and panting, her eyes closed, legs spread, bringing in a new life to this corrupt town.

Father Michaels steps up to me. “Bring him in,” he says, his evil eyes eating away at my soul.

They drag Kain in, and my chest constricts as I take him in. One of his eyes is completely swollen over, but he’s alive, and fully conscious.

Cassie’s pain grows as she begins wailing.

“Cassie!” My words are aren’t audible through the gag in my mouth.

An undoing of a belt pulls my attention to the priest again, and the people around us start humming. The sound ominous and otherworldly. Organs start, playing known church hymns.

I shake my head, my tears soaking into the material of the gag.

“Stay the fuck away from her!” Kain sounds like a broken record.

I pull on the restraints, growling with the effort and burning of the rope.

Father Michaels pulls his penis out, hands stroking it.

I thrash. I thrash, and growl until my skin bleeds and voice shatters.

Everything is a blur and feels like it’s happening in slow motion.

A newborn's cry mixes with people singing, the crackle of the fire, Kain’s pleas, and Dorrian’s comforting words.

I can’t do anything. Nothing at all.

“Cassie, no!”

“Jordie, listen to me—”

“You could’ve cooperated and had the easy way out.”

“Asher, now!”

My head spins, Samuel’s body doing circles around me as a wail rips out of me.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

People are shouting, scrambling, running, thuds echo throughout the church. Ricocheting cracks fill my ears, my body flinching with every loud noise.

It’s chaos. Pure fucking chaos and I can’t make sense of anything that’s happening. My wrists are hurting from pulling.

A blonde-haired angel leans over me, the green of her eyes a stark contrast against the red light. Her body clad in all-black clothing, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

I’m fucking dying.

She pulls the gag out of my mouth. I freeze before I realise I’m not dying. “Help me, please,” I cry.

“That’s what I’m here to do,” she soothes, her voice like a balm to my ears.

“Do not stop shooting!” another female voice barks.

Those were gunshots?

I lift my head to peer at the scene, people are on the floor, pools of blood collecting around them, flashes of light surround the place as multiple people in tactical gear shoot.

“Wait! Stop! You might hurt someone—” I panic but the blonde woman presses a hand to my shoulder.