"The people who murdered your family..." The old man's voice sank into the silence like a blade. "...know you're here."
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then Damien did.
The exhaustion vanished from his face as though someone had torn it away.
Pain remained.
The blood soaking through his bandages remained.
The fever remained.
None of it mattered anymore.
He pushed himself away from the stone pillar in one controlled motion, every muscle tightening despite the injury that should have left him unable to stand.
His pistol appeared in his hand.
Not hurried.
Not desperate.
Practiced.
His gray eyes swept across the chapel.
The doorway.
The ceiling.
The columns.
The alcoves.
Every shadow.
Every angle.
Every place a rifle barrel could be hiding.
He wasn't looking for an enemy.
