Chapter 2
The metal head of the pickaxe scraped loudly against the stone floor, sending a sharp, echoing screech through the cavernous nave of St. Jude’s. Arthur lunged forward, his long legs eating up the distance, but he was half a second too late. Leo swung the heavy tool with every ounce of his eight-year-old strength, channeling every ounce of fear, confusion, and betrayal into the arc. The steel point struck the corner of the white wooden lid with a dull, sickening crunch. Splinters exploded into the air, raining down like confetti on the polished oak pews.
"Leo, stop this instant!" Arthur roared, his polished composure finally cracking into a jagged snarl. He grabbed for the back of Leo’s jacket, his fingers catching only air as the boy pivoted and swung again. The second blow shattered the latch, sending the lock mechanism clattering across the floor.
With a frantic heave, Leo jammed the pickaxe into the growing fissure and pried upward. The wood groaned, protesting violently against the intrusion, before giving way with a loud pop that sounded like a gunshot in the silent church. The lid tilted sideways, crashing heavily against the adjacent pew.
A wave of cold, stagnant air rushed out of the enclosure, carrying the metallic scent of sweat, fear, and adhesive. There, trapped in the cramped confines of the padded satin lining, lay Sarah. Her eyes were wide, bloodshot, and bulging with terror. Thick, silver duct tape was wrapped tightly across her mouth, sealing her lips shut, while her wrists and ankles were bound with heavy plastic zip-ties. She was gasping desperately through her nose, her chest heaving as she drank in the oxygen she had been denied for hours.
Thomas dropped his briefcase, the leather bag hitting the stone floor with a dull thud, his hands flying to his mouth in sheer horror. He had known about the plan—he had signed the trust documents that transferred Sarah's estate to Arthur—but seeing the crude reality of it laid bare before the altar broke something inside the older man's facade. He took a staggering step backward, muttering incoherently under his breath.
Arthur reached the coffin first, ignoring Leo entirely as he lunged over the side, his hands aggressively reaching for Sarah’s face. "You absolute fool," Arthur hissed, his voice venomous as he tried to tear the tape from Sarah’s mouth. "You were supposed to stay quiet until the train left the county."
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Leo didn't hesitate. Reacting purely on adrenaline and a protective instinct that defied his years, he raised the pickaxe again, not to strike the coffin, but to block Arthur. The wooden handle hovered inches from Arthur’s expensive silk tie. "Get away from her!" Leo screamed, his voice cracking with a fierce, trembling rage that echoed off the stained-glass windows.
Sarah groaned, her muffled cries vibrating through the tape as she tried to shake her head, her eyes darting between Arthur and her son. The fragile illusion of grief that had brought them into this holy place was completely gone, replaced by a brutal, exposed war for survival right beneath the gaze of the silent saints.
