The barrel pressed harder into Solene’s ribs. Rafael’s lips brushed her ear when he spoke.

“Say his name. Say you choose Lucien, and I’ll paint these church walls with your blood.”

Lucien didn’t flinch. His gun never wavered, though his jaw locked tight enough to snap.

“Rafael ”

“Quiet!” Rafael barked, his laughter sharp. “Always so sure you’re the savior. The protector. You’re not. You’re just a butcher who thinks love is something you can own.”

His grip ...