Something cold settled in Jake’s stomach.
That mission was supposed to be a place people trusted. A place mothers sent their children when they needed help. A place men dropped coins into when they wanted to feel decent.
Elise looked up, eyes shining with truth she didn’t want to hold.
“There’s a man there,” she whispered. “A man everyone respects. But he is not who they think he is.”
Jake didn’t interrupt. He didn’t rush her. He let her words come the way they needed to.
She swallowed hard.
“He’s using the mission for money,” she said. “For things no one should ever hide behind a cross.”
Jake felt heat rise in his chest—not sun heat.
Anger.
The quiet kind older men know. The kind that doesn’t explode right away. It simmers, slow and deadly, because it’s built from the sick feeling of seeing something good used as a shield for dirt.
