All Chapters of Forgive Me: Marked By The Priest: Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

CELESTE’S POVThe room still smelled like sweat and power. Lucien’s office table was slightly askew, papers half-slid to the floor, one of the heavy candlesticks tilted from where it had been knocked aside. The air was thick, heavy with what had just happened.Against my better judgement, I had let him touch me. I had let him fuck me like there was nothing else in this world, like the past few days of him avoiding me didn't happen. I adjusted my blouse in silence. Lucien was already buttoning his shirt, movements calm, unhurried. Controlled. As if he hadn’t just had me bent over that same table minutes ago.He rolled his shoulders once and reached for his jacket. I watched him. Studied him. Waiting for something—regret, hunger, softness. There was nothing.“So,” I said finally, smoothing my skirt. “What’s the plan now?”He fastened his cufflinks without looking at me. “We head to the old chapel.”I blinked, not ready for that. “Tonight?”“Yes.”“To watch Malrick play priest?” I ask

If loving you damns me, then damnation is a sanctuary— because every heaven without you is a wasteland.BARON'S POVLucien stepped into the corridor, the alarms now screaming through the stone walls. “Keep watch,” he ordered the guard stationed outside my door. “If he so much as breathes wrong, shoot him.”The guard nodded stiffly. Lucien glanced back at me one last time, coat settling over his shoulders like armor. “I hate to cut our conversation short,” he said coolly, “but I have to go deal with Ezreal.”I scoffed but didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. He held my gaze for a second longer, then turned and disappeared into the chaos. Boots thundered past. Smoke began creeping into the room.And then I noticed it. The door hadn’t shut. The guard hesitated, glanced down the hallway, then stepped inside fully and pushed the door nearly closed behind him. He looked… young.Too young for this. He removed his helmet. “My name is Cole,” he said quietly. I didn’t move. He swallowe

MALRICK’S POVThe chapel smelled like rot and incense. Old wood. Damp stone. Forgotten prayers. Perfect. “Move!” I barked as the men dragged the crates toward the altar. “Set the candles properly. Not like animals. Precision matters.”They scrambled. Idiots. All of them. The old chapel had been abandoned for decades, but the bones of it were still strong. Arched ceilings. Cracked stained glass. A crucifix that hung crooked above the altar as if even Christ had grown tired of watching men destroy each other.I stepped forward and ran my fingers across the stone slab where the ritual would take place. Cold. Unforgiving. Exactly what I needed. Behind me, someone knocked over a metal bowl.The clang echoed too loudly. I turned slowly. “If you break one more thing,” I said softly, “I will break you.” Silence fell immediately. Good. They finally understood the gravity of what tonight meant.The ritual had to be done before Ezreal could interfere. Before he could reposition. Before he could

BARON’S POVI always told myself I wouldn’t care. That if this day ever came, if my father lay dying somewhere far away from me, I would feel nothing.He had chosen pride over me. Chosen reputation over blood. Chosen silence over love. So I told myself I would be stone if he ever fell. I was wrong. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely keep pressure on the wound. Blood soaked through my fingers, hot and relentless. It pooled beneath his back, staining the chapel floor in dark red halos.“Stay with me,” I whispered again, even though his breathing was already fading. Dad. The word hurt. Not because he deserved it. But because I meant it. Even after the disowning.Even after the humiliation. Even after he looked me in the eye and told the world I was no longer his son. He was still mine. And I was still his.His chest hitched weakly beneath my palms. I leaned closer, pressing my forehead against him like I could anchor him to this world through sheer will. “I’m here,” I choked.

You don’t understand — your suffering rewired me.Every bruise you carried became a vow carved into my bones.BARON’S POVPain came before memory. Not sharp at first. Heavy. Like my body weighed too much for my bones. Then the beeping. Slow. Rhythmic. Annoyingly steady. I tried to move my hand.Something tugged. IV line. Hospital. The chapel. Gunshot. Ezreal. My eyes flew open. The ceiling above me was white. Too white. The light hurt. My throat burned like I’d swallowed smoke.For a second, I didn’t know if I was alive.Then I turned my head slightly, and saw him…Mine.Ezreal was slumped forward in the chair beside my bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together like he was holding himself in place.His shirt was still stained with my blood. He hadn’t changed. His head was bowed. And he looked… exhausted. I swallowed. It hurt. “…Ez.” My voice barely existed.But he heard it. His head snapped up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. For a split second, he jus