5. THE DEVIL YOU KNOW.

BLAZE.

“Get the car,” I ordered Sergio. He nodded and we were in the car in minutes. I had left extra orders for the remaining men at my suite.

I could have sent my men alone to do the work but I had doubts and risking Micah’s life wasn't an option.

I switched off the headlights two blocks away from Pendle Street and continued on to the street in neutral. The driver seat was occupied by my trusted Sergio who inspected his gun as if he were afraid it would let him down. The other two were sitting in the back seat and did not breathe heavily at all.

Micah's voice kept ringing in my head from the call. He sounded distressed, desperate: "They have Farris." It was obvious that he asked me for help, practically pleading with me before I hung up. "Please, Blaze. Don't make me choose between my deacon and your code."

I refused to explain anything to him then and I was not going to do that right now.

The plan was already made. Bowscut believed they had some power over the new priest. But obviously their plan was to lure me out in order to observe my reaction. They were going to see how I was going to react and that was definitely not going to be nice.

However, there was something that troubled me. What was the reason they did not take him by themselves? Were they still skeptical?

I had fed them the pure trail of breadcrumbs through one of their lower-level lackeys we had converted last month: Micah was going to pay an unexpected visit late at night to an abandoned warehouse dock, to “pray for the deacon.” Alone, before coming to them like a lamb to the slaughter. At 3:45 in the morning.

They would take the bait. They were predators and they always did when it looked easy and divine.

I checked my watch. 3:37. I was right on schedule.

“Are you sure about this, boss?” whispered Sergio. “You don’t want to see Micah?”

Nah. They would be expecting me there, so I sent someone else in disguise. They would be in the house by then, and I hoped to God that Micah was obeying their commands, because he had no choice but to.

I did not look at him. “They wanted the priest. They’ll get me instead.”

We moved like smoke. I went through the side door first, my coat collar raised. The place stank of iron and old fish, just like the rest of this rotten fringe of Haloshul. There were two of them in the warehouse already, waiting in the middle of it all beneath a single hanging light bulb. Farris was there on his knees with his hands zip-tied and a swollen, bruised face.

These Bowscuts feared absolutely nothing. Including a servant of the Lord.

I walked out of the shadows.

One of them saw me suddenly, surprised. "What the fuck— Where's his collar?"

"Change of plans," I said coolly. "You either hand him over or you will have to deal with me."

The taller one grinned and reached for his gun. "The boss said the priest was the weak point. Looks like we got an upgrade."

He didn't get to finish his thoughts and his eyes shot out when he saw my men with Sergio arrive from the east.

They clocked their guns and shot, hitting their mark. The taller one dropped. The second tried to run and caught a round in the leg. I was already moving for Farris, my knife out, slicing the ties.

That’s when the third man—the one we hadn’t seen—fired from the catwalk above.

I felt the bullet whip past my ear, close enough to burn. I twisted, returning fire, but the ricochet caught me. A jagged shard of metal from a ruptured barrel sliced across my left side, deep under the ribs. The pain was hot and immediate. Thick red blood soaked my shirt in seconds.

I ignored the pain and kept moving.

I hauled Farris up with one arm, firing cover with the other. “Move as fast as I do.”

We got out. Barely. Sergio dragged the surviving Bowscut guy into our trunk for later questioning. I left a message carved into the taller one’s chest with my knife—short, clear, and personal. “Pendle Street is closed.”

By the time I reached Micah’s housing unit, the adrenaline had burned down to a dull roar and my side felt like someone was holding a lighter to it. I didn’t knock. I still had the key from years ago.

The guards pushed back the gun they had brought out, back at their waist. “Boss.” They greeted me.

“Give us a minute,” I said and walked in. I slotted the key and the door opened.

He was standing in the middle of the living room, phone in his shaking hand, thumb hovering over the police emergency number. His eyes were a bit pink and I held back a surprised gaze for a while. There was no way he was crying. He probably stressed so much and couldn't sleep.

His collar crooked from touching it too much. He looked every inch terrified and I could tell he was blaming himself. That was nice. It could work to my advantage.

I closed the door behind me, and he jumped in shock.

“Don’t,” I said, stopping him from talking for only a second until his gaze dropped to the blood spreading across my shirt. His lips parted. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“And Farris?” He muttered.

Wonderful. He lost the appeal to feel pity for me in seconds when he remembered his Deacon father in the Lord.

“Farris is safe. He’s in a car two blocks from the cathedral with a doctor on the way.” I stick out a finger. “You're not allowed to visit until he's done.”

He didn't get the message like I expected and looked down his phone then back to me. I knew what he was thinking and he had better not try it.