Word Of Honor Novel By Priest นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Orion asks, worried, peering into the Priests bleary eyes. “Ah, my Prince,” the Priest murmurs, his voice shaky and uncertain as he finds his balance and looks uncertainly around at Orion and Anton, and then at Laila and I as we, too, dash over. “Orion the Penultimate – good boy – nice – steals my pens –“ “What?” Laila asks, looking up into Orion’s face as the Priest – clearly a bit senile – continues to murmur.

He had a composed expression as if the one who died was not their young master but a stranger. Asher had always been tactful. He was already deeply regretful because he was bewitched by Klaus and missed the chance to be my chief mate. Seeing Orion's fate, he immediately knelt on the ground and begged for my forgiveness. "It was Rola. She seduced us. She said she would give the Eagle Clan a lot of resources once she became Beast Lady. I was also deceived. Chief, Rhea, believe me. I was just too concerned about the Eagle Clan!"

"I told myself for years it was about honor. Keeping my father's word. It's taken meeting you, actually meeting you, to understand it was never really about honor at all. I think some part of me simply refused to let you be gone." I didn't have an answer for that. Not one I trusted myself to say out loud, sitting on a terrace with the weight of Harlan's flawless lie still sitting cold in my chest and this man's honesty landing somewhere entirely different, somewhere I hadn't let anything land in a very long time.

The Priest didn't move like a man of God. He moved like a shadow seeking a place to rest. He kept the pistol leveled at the center of Damian’s chest, his finger draped casually over the trigger with the practiced ease of someone who had extinguished more lives than he had blessed. ​Damian stood perfectly still. I could feel the heat radiating off his back, a solid wall of charcoal wool and repressed violence. My own heart was a frantic bird caught in the cage of my ribs, beating against the spine of the journal I still held. I looked at the paper on the portable press. The ink had finally stabilized, the deep, authoritative black etching a single word across the 17th-century linen.

She had asked me deeply. “Yes, you can,” I had promised. After Noelle left, I barely even remembered the promise, but then again, the whole thing got intense because it was getting close to when my dad would be lowered into the ground. The last thing I was thinking about was Noelle. Or even her absence. “Silver was a man of honor and reputation. In all his years of existence, there was never a bad scandal about him or an illegal dealing. We all hope that having transcended from this world, he is going to find eternal rest,” the priest said, his voice thick with emotion.

Chapter 12 Grace Wilson POV The Priest family is something out of this world. They’re the type of family you see in Hallmark movies. Their mother is loving and very stern with her sons. When Damian gives snide remarks, she glares at him, and he shuts his mouth. When she asks Rowan about planning the wedding and he gives her one-word answers to show he has zero interest in something she glares at him, and he gives her the answers she wants afterward. It’s a family dynamic I’ve only ever seen in movies.

In the midst of the crowd laid a dead old priest with a bible in his left hand. In his right hand held a black big rosary that went rolled around his palm. "Please walk away. It's the police. " stated Jessica showing her badge to the people having them all extend. "I know this priest. " muttered Vivana. His name is Antonio Andrade. He was a good man. It was in a few minutes when an old nun came passed the people rushing towards the corpse.

He knew everything or was he lying? The day everything went wrong was the day a young priest landed in the underworld. They marked him for Bowen. He must’ve been bad to land on Bowen’s table. No one knew what. He was well known, well-loved, and well respected. Why would a priest be marked for Bowen? What could he possibly have done? Bowen decided this would be an easy one. There was some mistake that would be fixed. This would not be his usual punishment. He decided this would be a good day to send in Daniel. Daniel could practice his techniques on the priest.

Now, more than a hundred years later, that faith was seriously compromised in a little eleven-year-old girl, who did not want to enter that enclosure any more as a result of one of the most aberrant acts of the human being. Now Joseph was there, vindicating the faith, together with the one who broke it in the most infamous way. Alberto was about to get up to leave, when he observed that Joseph got up slowly. For his part, the priest opens the curtains of the confessional and rushes out of it, as if scared, with wide eyes and, from what he could see, agitated breathing and beginning a pitiful cry. He was walking clumsily from the confessional toward one of the doors at the back of the altar,

I averted my eyes and looked at the bunch of vultures that trailed behind him. …. "We may proceed." He said with a rough voice. "Please place your hand above this book" I did as I was told. "Do you Ingrid Petersen swear to tell the truth. Nothing but the truth? If so, follow me with these words…" "I, Ingrid Petersen, swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. So help me goddess!" After I was done, the priest walked away and sir Lucas came forward. He held a piece of paper in his hands