Black Sheep

Saturday Night

Victoria hesitated, her fork hovering over her plate. For a moment, she considered telling him everything—the Church, the bunker, Lucius. But how could she? How could she tell Alistair about the parts of himself he didn’t even know existed?

“I guess I’ve just been feeling…overwhelmed lately,” she admitted, choosing her words carefully. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

He nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “Anything I can help with?”

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “Just you being here helps.”

Alistair reached across the table again, his hand resting over hers. His touch was steady, grounding.

“You know I’m here for you, right? Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Her chest tightened at his words. He was so genuine, so kind, and it made her feel worse for keeping so much from him.

“I know,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

The rest of the dinner passed with lighter conversation, but the undercurrent of tension remained. When they left the restaurant, the night air was cool, and Victoria wrapped her arms around herself as they walked to the car. Alistair opened the door for her again, and she slid in, feeling both comforted and conflicted by his presence.

The drive back to her apartment was quiet, the city lights flickering past like a blur of memories she couldn’t quite hold onto. Alistair parked in front of her building and turned to her, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of the dashboard.

“Victoria,” he began, his voice hesitant. “I don’t know what’s going on, but…you can trust me. You know that, right?”

She looked at him, her heart aching. “I do,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Alistair leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Get some rest,” he said softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

Victoria nodded, her throat tight as she opened the door and stepped out. She watched as he drove away, the taillights disappearing into the night.

“Aye there hen!”

Victoria froze, startled by the sudden voice cutting through the stillness of the parking lot. She turned to see a towering figure stepping out of the shadows. Father Anderson was impossible to miss—his 6’5” frame dressed in pristine white robes, the blue cross embroidered down the front catching the faint glow of the streetlights. His blonde hair gleamed under the light, and his round glasses reflected just enough to obscure his eyes, making his expression unreadable.

Earlier that day, Victoria had crossed paths with Father Anderson for the first time. Now, hours later, he reappeared, stepping out of the shadows as Victoria crossed the coffee shop’s parking lot. She had just gotten out of the passenger side of a car—Alistair’s car, or maybe Lucius’s; the line between them felt blurrier than ever. She froze as Anderson approached, his white robes almost glowing in the dim light.

“Well, well, lassie,” he greeted her, his voice calm but deliberate. “Fancy seein’ ye again. And just after I saw ye get out o’ that car with one o’ the fellas I mentioned earlier. Quite the coincidence, aye?”

Victoria’s heart raced. She glanced back at the car, but it was already gone, leaving her alone with the towering priest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice steady but her hands trembling at her sides.

Anderson chuckled softly, folding his arms. “Ach, yer a terrible liar, lass. But dinnae worry—I’m nae here tae cause trouble. If I wanted tae poke the lion, I’d do it meself, and we’d both ken how that’d turn out.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want, then?”

“What I’ve wanted from the start,” he said evenly. “To find Alistair. Or Lucius. Or whatever he’s callin’ himself these days. But I see now that pokin’ the lion directly might only make it angry. So here I am, talkin’ tae its anchor instead.”

Victoria took a step back, her pulse pounding in her ears. “I don’t know what you think you know, but I’m not an ‘anchor’ for anyone.”

Anderson raised an eyebrow, his expression softening just a fraction. “Ye can deny it all ye like, lass. But anchors dinnae choose their role—it’s given tae them. Whether ye want it or not, yer tethered tae a man who walks a razor’s edge, and I suspect ye ken that better than most.”

She stared at him, her resolve wavering. “Why are you here? Why now?”

“To offer a word o’ caution,” he said simply. “And tae remind ye that the lion ye’re tethered tae is nae ordinary beast. It’s capable o’ great good... but also great destruction. And that destruction has a way o’ spreadin’ tae those closest tae it.”

Victoria clenched her fists, anger flaring in her chest. “I don’t need you to tell me who he is. I know.”

Anderson nodded slowly, his gaze soft but unyielding. “Aye, maybe ye do. But ken this, The both of those lads are very special and they’re my boys.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his robes billowing slightly in the cool night air. Victoria watched him go, her mind racing. His words left her unsettled, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew far more about Alistair—and Lucius—than he was letting on.

Victoria made her way upstairs and caled Alistair. “Hey can you come back I need to talk.” She looked out of her curtain and didn’t see Anderson but it didn’t mean he wasn’t there. After a bit there is a knock at her door. “Hey it’s me” hearing Alistair’s voiced soothed her but there was a pang of guilt.

Opening the door she gave him a hug and peck on the lips. Then made her way to the table where she already had his coffee waiting .

Alistair sat across from Victoria at her dining table, his hands resting on his coffee cup as he studied her with a gentle but probing gaze. He had just finished explaining his plan to involve Father Anderson, and now he waited for her response. Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to mask her anxiety. Her mind raced with the secret she carried—the night with Lucius, DJ’s death, and the unthinkable intimacy that followed.

“That’s… a bold move,” Victoria finally said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “But are you sure involving Anderson is the right idea? Lucius doesn’t exactly seem like the type to respond well to authority.”

Alistair leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “That’s the thing. Lucius respects Anderson in a way I don’t fully understand. He won’t admit it, but Anderson’s opinion carries weight with him. It’s not about authority—it’s about recognition. Lucius thrives on being seen as the best, and Anderson knows how to frame things to make him feel like that.”

Victoria nodded, trying to appear engaged while her stomach twisted into knots. The idea of Lucius being cornered by Anderson filled her with dread. What if he told Anderson everything? What if Alistair found out?

“You seem hesitant,” Alistair said, his brows furrowing. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Victoria’s heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her expression neutral. “No, it’s just… this is a big gamble, Alistair. You’re putting a lot of faith in Anderson to handle Lucius the right way. What if he pushes too hard and things spiral out of control?”

Alistair considered this for a moment before replying. “That’s a risk, sure. But if we don’t address this now, Lucius’s unpredictability could get worse. I need to know what’s going on in his head, and Anderson might be the only one who can get through to him.”

Victoria forced a small smile. “I get that. I just… I guess I’m worried about how Lucius will react. You know him better than I do, but even you can’t predict what he’ll do when he’s cornered.”

Alistair sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I can’t. But if I do nothing, I’m just waiting for the next crisis to hit. This way, at least, I’m trying to manage the situation.”

Victoria nodded again, feeling the weight of her secret pressing down on her. She hated lying to Alistair, but the thought of him knowing the truth about that night—about what she had done, about what she and Lucius had shared—was unbearable.

“Okay,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful, Alistair. This could get messy, and I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

Alistair reached across the table and took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I promise. We’ll get through this, Victoria. Together.”

She smiled faintly, but the guilt gnawed at her. Together. The word felt like a lie, a fragile promise she wasn’t sure she could keep.