Peaky Blinders Priest Novels & Stories

When you and Darren were still. "That was another lifetime," Amira said smoothly, every word practiced. "This is my husband, Leon Mercer," she continued, her hand tightening slightly on his arm. "Leon, Camila Eve and Darren Cole." Leon inclined his head with perfect politeness. "Miss Eve. Mr. Cole." Darren extended his hand, and Amira watched with intense focus as Leon reached out. His hand found Darren's with only the slightest hesitation—exactly the right amount of uncertainty for a blind man who'd spent years adapting. His grip was firm but not aggressive.

I cut in quietly, my hand shaking slightly as I held the phone, “but lately, Father, you’ve been showing me a side of the clergy I never signed up for.” There was silence. Long, heavy silence. When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed. It was lower, tighter. “Watch your tongue, son.” “I’m only saying what’s true.” “Then listen closely,” he said, voice like gravel. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving tonight.” I blinked. “Leaving? For where?” “There’s a priestly summit in Black Hollow,” he said. “It’s time you stopped running from your duties. You’ll attend. You’ll listen. And you’ll learn your place.”

Violence always needed ritual. Five men knelt on the floor, hands bound, faces I’d once called family staring back at me with wide, guilty eyes. “You disappoint me.” My voice echoed through space as I looked down at them. “Five of you. Five who thought loyalty was negotiable.” Silence. They stared at the ground like cowards. All except one. The kid. Fresh blood. Twenty-five, maybe, olive skin gone pale under the dim light. His English was clumsy, thick with Naples, trembling through every syllable.

The Priest scoffed as he shook his head again. “ What's the commotion here? ” a tall man with a huge body build, he had long pitch-black hair and sharp hazel eyes, said with a raucous voice that echoed as everyone went silent. The priest had a smug look on his face as he watched the man walk in his direction. “ Alpha King Theon! These miscreants called the temple a lie” the priest said. “And they even travel with a daemon” someone from the crowd said. “ Despicable! ”

His main concern was being rejected because of his looks. Though Wynter had put in efforts to groom him well, it had been so long that he had even forgotten how he looked in the first place. Two people could be considered blind in this situation: one, Shadrach, who was literally blind, and two, Wynter, who was blinded by her love for him, so physical appearance didn’t matter to her. But her family wasn’t blinded by anything; they would definitely want the best for their daughter, and he was sure he looked like a mess at that moment.

It couldn't be. That jawline. That familiar voice groaning "Take my cock like a good boy" in that same deep, authoritative tone I'd heard every Sunday. It was him. Our priest. The man who'd always seemed so holy and untouchable, now pounding another man on camera, his thick cock sliding in and out, balls slapping against skin. "Oh fuck," I whispered, frozen. The group noticed my reaction immediately. "Holy shit, look at her face! You like that, huh? Gay p**n does it for the innocent ones."

I charged down the center aisle. The pews were occupied by Tech-Priests. They wore crimson robes woven with copper wire that crackled with static. Their faces were obscured by optical implants—lenses that whirred as they tracked my movement. They didn't hold prayer beads. They held shock-staves. "Intruders," the Head Priest hissed. He was a gaunt Lycan. His left arm had been amputated and replaced by a mechanical claw that emitted a rhythmic clicking sound.

“So you’re saying your brutality is mercy?” “I’m saying you have to move on,” she blurts, a wry look clouding her face. “The Pyramid Brotherhood are demons on earth. Every time we have them, they slip away, but this time it's going down to ash. He is.” My breath quickens as she supplies, “I’m not saying this because I got promoted. I’m telling you because I care. Mad Bishop is the devil. Stay the fuck away from him. You might want to get an exorcism for what he’s done with you?”

<|control12|>The Confessional Flames I never thought my priesthood would lead me here, tangled in a web of forbidden desires that burned hotter than any hellfire sermon I’d ever preached. My name is Father Elias, and at 28, I was the epitome of devotion—or so the parish believed. Tall, with a lean build from years of seminary discipline, my green eyes and short dark hair made me look approachable, trustworthy. But beneath the cassock, doubts and urges simmered, especially since Luca and Marco entered my life.

The convent chapel was silent except for the soft flicker of candles. Sister Magdalene had begged me to come after Compline, her voice trembling over the phone with a mix of shame and desperate need. When I arrived, she wasn’t alone. Three priests stood in the shadows — Father Elias in the center, flanked by Father Marcus (the former altar boy from Chapter 5) and a stern older priest, Father Dominic, known for his rigid discipline. All three wore their cassocks open at the front, cocks already hard and ready.