"S-S-Seven," he stuttered.
Her nostrils flared. "How many came to our parish? Served in our church?"
"T-Two."
Her eyes clashed with mine and I saw the hellfire begin to burn in them.
The Archbishop was about to pay for his sins.
He’d wish that I was the one doling out the punishment. He’d fucking wish he’d come to me rather than being the Church’s whipping boy.
By the time my Lena was done with him, the Archbishop was going to be praying for Satan’s embrace.
And maybe, just maybe, I would too.