A sob caught in Clara’s throat as she sank to her hands and knees on the altar, trying to steady herself, but the cold, dusty marble offered no grip. Her fingers slipped, her knees wobbled, and she pitched forward, unable to find the slightest balance.

“Pathetic,” Parker snapped. “Get down. Do it on the floor.”

Clara’s breath shuddered out in defeat. With a shaky exhalation, she obeyed, sliding off the altar and onto the cold marble sanctuary floor beneath her. The rough surface ...