A young man stood on a rooftop somewhere in the city, staring at a church in the distance. The building was white stone with old architecture, the kind of place that had probably been standing there for decades. Stained glass windows ran along the sides, and a cross sat at the top.
He pulled his right hand out of his jacket pocket. His fingers were wrapped around something cold and heavy. He pulled it out and looked at it for a moment. A Glock 19, nine millimeter, the kind of gun you could find at any range or gun store if you knew where to look. He checked that the magazine was seated properly, then tucked it into his waistband and pulled his shirt over it.
Four years of planning had brought him to this rooftop. Four years of waiting, watching, learning everything he needed to know about the people in that church. Now it was time to finish it.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the screen.
7:00 PM – Service ends.
He put the phone away, walked over to where his duffel bag sat by the stairwell door, and picked it up. Everything he needed was inside. He opened the door and headed down the stairs.
The drive to the church took about twenty minutes through evening traffic. The young man kept his hands steady on the wheel, his breathing even. The duffel bag sat in the passenger seat. Inside were zip ties, a power drill, nails, extra magazines for the Glock, body armor he'd bought off someone in Newark, and the components he'd spent the past month putting together.
Three years of planning, down to every detail. He'd mapped out every contingency, accounted for every variable he could think of. Tonight it all ended, one way or another.
At a red light, he glanced at the rearview mirror. Twenty-six years old but he looked older than that. Dark stubble covered his jaw because he hadn't bothered shaving in a few days. His hair hung past his ears, longer than he usually kept it. Dark circles sat under his eyes from too many nights lying awake, going over the plan again and again in his head.
'You look like hell,' he thought, then looked away from the mirror.
The light turned green and he kept driving.
St. Augustine's parking lot was about half-full when he pulled in. Service had already started. He could hear singing through the stone walls, voices rising together in some hymn he vaguely remembered from when he was younger. Cars were clustered near the main entrance. A few stragglers were still heading inside, Bibles tucked under their arms.
He parked toward the back of the lot, away from the other vehicles. Sat in his car for a moment with both hands on the wheel, just breathing. His heart was beating faster than normal.
'Alright. Let's do this.'
He grabbed the duffel bag and got out.
The church doors were old wood, worn smooth from decades of people pushing them open. He pulled one toward him and stepped inside. Warmth hit him right away. Light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colored patterns across the wooden pews. The air smelled like old wood and burning candles. The congregation was in the middle of their hymn, voices filling the space.
A few people near the back glanced his way. He smiled at them and nodded. Found a seat in the last pew, set the duffel bag on the floor between his feet, and sat down.
Then he waited.
About thirty minutes passed. The hymn ended, Father Matthias gave a short sermon about forgiveness and second chances, and then service was over. The priest stood at the front and gave his closing blessing. People started filtering out slowly, stopping to chat with each other, shaking hands, making plans for the week.
"David!"
He turned his head. Mrs. Porter was walking toward him with a bright smile on her face. She was probably in her fifties, with gray hair pulled back in a neat bun. She wore a floral dress and had one of those faces that always looked genuinely happy to see you.
"Mrs. Porter," David said, standing up.
"So good to see you, dear." She reached out and touched his arm. "Will you be helping with cleanup today? We could really use the extra hands."
"I need to talk to Father Matthias first," David said. "But maybe after, if there's time."
"You're such a blessing to this church," Mrs. Porter said, giving his arm a small squeeze. "Always helping with repairs, always willing to pitch in. We're really lucky to have you here."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
She smiled again and walked away, her footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor.
David watched her leave. Six months he'd been coming here, volunteering, fixing things, playing the part of the helpful young man who just wanted to give back. Six months of Mrs. Porter smiling at him like that, telling him what a blessing he was.
'She has no idea.'
Father Matthias stood near the altar, talking with a small group from the congregation. The priest was thin, probably in his sixties, with wire-rimmed glasses sitting on his nose. He was laughing at something one of them said, his whole face lighting up with the kind of warmth that made people trust him instantly.
David picked up the duffel bag and walked over. "Father Matthias."
The priest turned, and his face got even brighter when he saw David. "David! Wonderful to see you." He gestured to the others standing nearby. "Everyone, this is David Smith. He's been such a huge help around here. Fixed our heating system a couple of months ago when it completely died on us, repainted the entire community center. I honestly don't know what we'd do without him."
The others made polite sounds. David nodded at each of them.
"Father, could I talk to you privately for a minute?" David kept his voice quiet. "If you have time."
"Of course, of course." Matthias turned back to the others. "If you'll excuse me."
They headed toward the exits. The priest led David toward the back of the church where the offices were, his hands clasped behind his back. "What can I do for you, son?"
"I need to confess something," David said. "Some things have been on my mind lately."
Matthias's expression shifted into something softer, more concerned. "Of course. Let's go to my office where we can have some privacy."
They arrived at the office where it was small but organized. A wooden desk sat under a window that looked out at the parking lot. Bookshelves lined one wall, packed with religious texts and commentaries. A crucifix hung on the opposite wall. Matthias closed the door behind them and pointed to the chair across from his desk.
"Have a seat."
David sat down, placing the duffel bag on the floor beside the chair. Matthias walked around to his side of the desk and lowered himself into his chair with a quiet sigh.
"So," the priest said, folding his hands on the desk. His voice was gentle, the kind you'd use with someone who was clearly troubled. "What's on your mind?"
David didn't answer right away. He just stared at his hands for a moment, which were resting on his lap. When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and flat.
"I want to tell you about someone. A girl."
Matthias nodded, waiting.
"She had a younger brother. Kid didn't have many friends growing up."
"That must have been difficult for him," Matthias said gently.
David continued like he hadn't heard. "Spent most of his time playing video games by himself. Never had a girlfriend. The girl used to tease him about it sometimes. Said she'd found someone at work who'd be perfect for him."
"Sounds like she cared about him."
"She loved reading. Always had a book." David's voice flattened out even more. "The brother wasn't into that. But she kept bugging him about this story she found online. Infinite War: The Last Bargain. Wouldn't shut up about it."
Matthias shifted slightly in his chair. "Did he ever read it?"
"Eventually. Just to get her off his back." Something crossed David's face, gone almost before it appeared. "Turned out she was right. He liked it. So they started reading it together."
"That's nice. Siblings sharing something like that."
David's hands were starting to curl into fists. "Her birthday was coming up. About a week away."
"Oh?"
"The brother had been saving money. Wanted to get her a necklace she always looked at in the jewelry store window."
"That's very thoughtful," Matthias said.
"She never got to see it."
The priest's expression changed slightly. "What happened?"
"She was a journalist."
Matthias went still.
"Good at her job. Started investigating something." David looked up now, met the priest's eyes. "Young women disappearing from poor neighborhoods."
A bead of sweat formed on Matthias's temple.
"Human trafficking," David said.
The priest's fingers twitched.
"She found connections," David said. "Patterns."
"David..."
"Money moving through certain accounts. Always the same ones." David kept his eyes locked on Matthias's face. "Religious leaders. Local politicians. Businessmen."
Matthias's hand started creeping toward the edge of his desk. His breathing had gotten faster.
"She was thorough. Had documentation for everything." David leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Bank transfers with names attached. Testimonies from girls who escaped. Photos."
"I don't see what this..."
"She was about to publish it. Put every name, every face, every piece of evidence out there."
Sweat was running down the side of Matthias's face now.
"But someone found out." David's voice dropped lower. "Someone powerful. Someone who had everything to lose." His jaw got tight. "So they decided she needed to be silenced."
"David, I don't know what you think..."
"The brother was on a videl call with her when they killed her."
The words just sat there in the air between them.
David's voice cracked, just slightly. "He heard the crash. Heard her scream. Saw the man in white walk up to the car, put a gun to her head, and pull the trigger." His hands were shaking now on the armrests. "He's heard those sounds every single night for four years. Every time he closes his eyes, that's what he hears. The crash. The scream. The gunshot."
Matthias stared at him. All the color had drained from his face.
"The girl's name was Lillian Smith," David said quietly.
The priest went completely still.
"She was my sister."
Matthias's hand shot toward the button hidden under his desk.
David was already moving. He lunged across the space between them, grabbed the priest by his throat, and slammed him back against the wall behind the desk. Matthias's glasses flew off his face and clattered across the floor. David's fist crashed into the priest's stomach. Once. Twice. Matthias doubled over, all the air rushing out of his lungs.
David grabbed him by his hair and drove his knee up into the priest's face. There was a wet crunch and blood exploded from Matthias's nose, running down over his mouth and chin. The priest started to crumple but David hauled him back up and slammed him into the wall again.
"Where are the guns?" David's voice had gone completely cold.
"I don't..." Matthias could barely get the words out, choking on blood.
David slammed his head against the wall. Hard enough that the impact echoed through the small office. "WHERE ARE THE GUNS?"
"Closet!" Matthias gasped, more blood running down his face. "There's a false panel in the back wall!"
David dragged him over to the closet and threw him down on the floor. He found the panel right where Matthias said it would be, pressed on it until it clicked open. Inside were two handguns and a shotgun, all sitting there waiting.
He pulled them out and set them on the desk.
Behind him, Matthias was trying to crawl toward the door, leaving a trail of blood across the office floor as he went.
David grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him back to the wall. He pulled zip ties out of his duffel bag, bound the priest's left wrist then looped it through a pipe that ran along the ceiling and pulled and then he repeated the same with the right. Matthias's arms stretched up over his head until his feet were barely touching the floor. His current position now was ironically like a crucifix.
The priest struggled weakly against the restraints. "Please... please, I can explain..."
"Explain?" David's voice cracked and all that cold composure shattered like glass. He grabbed Matthias by the throat again, got right up in his face. "You want to explain how you had my sister murdered?"
"I didn't! I swear I didn't..."
"YOU'RE LYING!" Spit flew from David's mouth. "She had everything! She had photos of you meeting with the buyers! Bank records with your name all over them! Girls who survived naming you specifically!" His grip tightened around the priest's throat. "She was going to expose all of you and you couldn't let that happen so you had her KILLED!"
"It wasn't personal!" Matthias was sobbing now, blood and tears mixing together on his face. "She was going to destroy everything! The whole network, all the connections we'd built, years of work..."
David's fist connected with the priest's jaw. There was a sharp crack as teeth broke. Blood sprayed across the wall.
"NOT PERSONAL?" David's voice came out raw, something broken and terrible. "She was twenty-six years old! She raised me when our parents died! She gave up everything she had for me!" He hit him again. And again. "She was all I had left in this world and you took her from me because she was doing her JOB!"
Matthias's head was lolling to the side now, barely conscious.
David stepped back, breathing hard. His knuckles were covered in blood. Some of it was the priest's, some of it was his own from where the skin had split.
He forced himself to breathe slower. To calm down and get control back.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
'Get it together. You're not done yet. Not even close.'
"You don't get to die quickly," David said. His voice had returned to that cold, empty tone from before. "You don't get that mercy."
He walked back over to the duffel bag and pulled out a power drill. He checked that the bit was secure, then turned it on. The high-pitched whirr filled the small office. He turned it off.
Matthias's eyes went wide when he saw what David was holding. Real horror spreading across his face now. "No. No, please..."
David positioned the drill bit against the priest's right palm, pressing it flat against the wall behind him.
"Please! PLEASE, GOD..."
David pulled the trigger.
The bit punched through skin and muscle and bone, driving deep into the wall behind. Matthias's scream tore through the office, something that didn't sound human anymore. Blood ran down his arm in thick streams, dripping off his elbow onto the floor below.
David pulled the drill free and moved to the other hand.
"PLEASE! GOD, PLEASE!" Matthias was thrashing against the zip ties now but they held firm, digging into his wrists.
The drill punched through the left palm. Another scream ripped from the priest's throat, his voice breaking halfway through until it came out as more of a rasp. More blood running down the wall.
David stepped back and looked at what he'd done. Matthias hung there with his arms spread wide, both palms drilled into the wall behind him, blood running down to his elbows and dripping onto the floor.
'Like a crucifixion. Fitting, really.'
"My sister begged too," David said quietly. He walked over to the desk and pulled out railroad spikes and a hammer from the bag. Long iron spikes, the kind they used to use for train tracks. "Right before they killed her. She begged them not to do it. You think about that at all when you gave the order?"
"I'm sorry!" Matthias could barely speak anymore, his voice completely wrecked. "I'm sorry, please..."
"You're not sorry," David said. He positioned the first spike against the priest's right foot where it barely touched the floor. "You're just sorry that I found you."
He raised the hammer and brought it down.
The spike drove through flesh and bone and into the wall with a sickening crunch. Matthias's scream was worse this time, something wet and broken that barely sounded like it came from a human throat.
David hammered another spike through the left foot.
The priest hung there, fully crucified now, blood running from his hands and feet. His screams had turned into broken, gasping sobs. He couldn't even form words anymore.
David set the hammer down and picked up Matthias's phone from where it sat on the desk. There was an unread message on the screen.
**Everyone's arrived. Ready when you are.**
David looked back at the priest. "The auction's today. That's why you rushed through the service."
Matthias's eyes widened even more through his tears, if that was possible.
"How many buyers?" David asked.
Just sobbing. No answer.
David picked the drill back up and turned it on, letting the sound fill the room.
"SEVENTEEN!" Matthias screamed, the word barely understandable. "Seventeen buyers! They're downstairs!"
"Where are the girls being held?"
"Safe room... under the altar... there's a reinforced door..."
David nodded slowly. He pulled up the message screen on the phone and typed out a response.
**Closing perimeter now. Starting in 10 minutes.**
He hit send. Throughout the church, he heard the locks engaging with heavy mechanical clicks. Metal shutters started sliding down over the windows with a low grinding sound.
Matthias was staring at him now in complete horror, blood still dripping steadily from his wounds. "What... what are you doing..."
David pulled a small remote detonator out of his bag. "I've been volunteering here for six months. Every single time I 'fixed' something, I was actually planting explosives." He held up the detonator so Matthias could see it clearly. "The heating system. The community center. Storage rooms throughout the building. Eleven different locations, all wired together. Enough C-4 to bring this entire place down on top of everyone inside."
"You're insane," Matthias breathed out, his voice weak and broken. "You'll kill yourself too..."
"I know," David said simply. He walked toward the office door and picked up the duffel bag on his way. "But every single one of you is coming with me."
"Wait! WAIT!" The priest's voice cracked completely. "Don't leave me like this! Please!"
David stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at Matthias one last time. The priest hung there on the wall, crucified and bleeding, exactly the way David had pictured it in his head for the past four years.
"My sister died alone," David said quietly. "Scared and in pain and begging for her life. You don't deserve any better than that."
He opened the door and walked out. Matthias's screams followed him down the hallway, getting fainter as David moved away.
He didn't look back.
'Almost done, Lillian. Just a little bit more and it's all finished.'