The morning sun filtered through pale curtains in the Smith household, casting strips of light across the breakfast table. The quiet hum of a neighborhood just waking was interrupted by the scrape of a chair as Coonie sat across from his mother. He looked pale but composed, his fingers tapping against the wooden surface.

Korre Smith, radiant with a kind of fragile hope, poured orange juice into two glasses. She turned to him with a smile that felt too bright, too desperate to be entirely natural.

"Mom," Coonie began, his tone deliberate, "I… I want to go with you. To the church. You know, the one you've always talked about."

For a second, silence clung to the air. The glass pitcher nearly slipped from her hands. Then her face lit up with unrestrained joy, eyes shimmering with relief.

"Really?! Really, Coonie?! Oh, thank God…" She rushed forward, placing her hands on his shoulders, almost trembling. "I knew it! I knew Pastor Delrio's words were reaching you. He promised me this day would come, and look, it's happening!"

Coonie forced a small smile, lowering his gaze. His chest felt like a vice tightening. His mother's warmth should have brought him comfort, but all he felt was the icy hand of betrayal. Not betrayal from her but from the shadow that had wrapped itself around her heart.

(She thinks this is salvation. She doesn't even know she's just another pawn. Another name in their ledger. If she's already gone this deep, then it's up to me… to cut the strings before they choke her.)

Korre squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. "You'll see, Coonie. You'll understand once you feel the light in that sanctuary. Pastor Delrio, he… he knows things no one else does. He'll help you, just like he helped me."

Her eyes burned with conviction.

Coonie tilted his head, masking the bitterness in his throat with feigned curiosity. "Yeah… Pastor Delrio, huh? He must be something else if he got you believing so hard."

Korre chuckled softly, tears in her eyes. "You'll see for yourself. The church—it isn't just faith, it's family. And after everything you've been through, after the pressure, the doubt… I just know this will change you."

Coonie leaned back, letting her words hang.

(Change me? No, Mom. What's going to change is this whole rotten system. Ethan's right… if there's rot in this city, it spreads fast. And if I don't cut it out, it's going to swallow me—and you—alive.)

He flashed her a practiced grin. "Then let's go, Mom. I'm ready."

Later that Evening – Smith Residence

The house was unusually silent, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock. Coonie lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzed, a message from Ethan.

Ethan: Remember the plan. Keep your head down, play the part, and don't tip them off. We'll move when you find the proof.

Coonie's thumbs hovered over the keyboard before he typed back:

Coonie: Yeah. I got it. Don't worry, I'll handle it.

He tossed the phone aside, pressing his palms against his eyes.

(Handle it? How the hell do you handle a cult that's got its claws in your own mother? Ethan makes it sound simple, but this isn't just some basketball game. If I screw this up, they won't just cut me off the team—they'll bury me.)

A flash of his mother's radiant face returned to him, the way she said Pastor really did it.

His jaw clenched.

(No. I can't back down now. If I have to burn myself to pull her out of that fire, then so be it. I'll play the good little believer… until I can tear the mask off Delrio's face.)

..

The Church – The Following Day

The car rolled to a stop in front of a building that looked less like a holy sanctuary and more like a corporate fortress. White stone columns framed a massive arched doorway. The glass above reflected the late afternoon sky like an all-seeing eye.

Korre held her son's hand as they walked up the steps. Her grip was firm, almost nervous, as though afraid he might turn and run.

Inside, the air was heavy with incense and hushed murmurs. Rows of chairs faced a raised dais where a man in a tailored suit stood waiting, a smile carved with precision on his face.

Pastor Delrio.

He spread his arms wide, voice smooth and commanding.

"Ah… Sister Korre. And this must be your son. Coonie, is it? I've heard much about you."

Coonie straightened, feigning hesitation, then bowed his head slightly. "Yeah. That's me."

Delrio's eyes gleamed with the kind of interest one reserves for a prized investment. "Welcome, Coonie. Today is the beginning of your real journey. You'll find no judgment here, only purpose."

(Purpose? You mean chains. But not today. Today, I wear them willingly… until I can snap them in front of your face.)

Korre leaned closer, whispering like a proud mother showing off her son. "See, Coonie? He's everything I told you. Doesn't it feel right, being here?"

Coonie forced a smile, looking up at the vaulted ceiling where golden light streamed through stained glass.

"Yeah, Mom… it feels right."

But in his mind, his words dripped with venom.

(It feels like walking into the lion's den. And I'll be damned if I'm not the one holding the knife when the beast bares its teeth.)

The choir began to sing, voices echoing like whispers from another world. Pastor Delrio closed his eyes, soaking in the atmosphere. Korre bowed her head in reverence.

Coonie's gaze never left the man on the stage.

(You don't know it yet, Pastor… but I'm not here to be saved. I'm here to end you.)

And somewhere, deep within him, he could almost hear Ethan's voice:

"Stay sharp, Coonie. Play the game until the final buzzer."

Coonie's fists clenched.

The game had just begun.

Pastor Delrio's hands rose slowly, silencing the choir as if the very air obeyed him. The last note of the hymn hung suspended, trembling in the vaulted arches before vanishing into silence. His voice, smooth as silk but edged with command, filled the sanctuary.

"Brothers and sisters, today we are blessed. The light of truth has guided another soul to our family."

The congregation leaned forward, expectant. Their eyes glowed with fervor, as though every word he spoke was scripture itself.

Delrio's gaze swept across the rows like a spotlight, then anchored itself on Coonie. A thin smile curved his lips, deliberate and sharp.

"Young Coonie Smith, son of our faithful Sister Korre, has chosen to walk with us. Chosen to step away from the noise of the world and seek the truth. Tell me, my flock—do we not rejoice at such a moment?"

The church erupted in applause, cheers breaking the solemn silence like a flood. Some clapped furiously, others raised their hands to the ceiling, murmuring praises. Korre's eyes brimmed with tears, her palms pressed together in trembling gratitude.

Coonie forced a half-smile, his shoulders stiff under the weight of so many eyes.

(Congratulate me? They don't even know me. To them, I'm not a person, I'm another trophy, another lamb for their slaughter.)

Delrio stepped down from the dais, his polished shoes echoing across the marble floor. Each step was deliberate, each movement designed to project both authority and warmth.

He stopped just a breath away from Coonie, lowering his voice so only the front rows could hear.

"You've taken your first step, Coonie, and all of heaven rejoices. Look at them—look how your courage inspires."

He gestured with one hand, and the crowd responded on cue, their applause swelling again, their voices rising in unison:

"Welcome, brother! Welcome!"

Hands reached out from the pews, some brushing his shoulders, others clasping his arms. The sheer force of their attention pressed against him, suffocating.

Coonie bowed his head, letting the moment wash over him.

(Courage? No, Pastor. What you're seeing isn't courage—it's calculation. Every step I take here is a piece on the board. And when the time comes, I'll flip the board over your head.)

Delrio placed a hand on Coonie's shoulder, his grip firm, almost proprietary.

"The world outside will try to shake you, son. They will whisper doubt, mock your choices, pull you toward emptiness. But here—here you will stand unshaken. And tonight, we celebrate your arrival. Tonight, you are reborn."

The congregation rose to their feet, voices unified in a chant.

"Reborn! Reborn! Reborn!"

Korre wept openly, pressing her hands to her lips as she whispered prayers of gratitude.

Coonie looked around, forcing his lips into a smile, his eyes narrowed just enough that Delrio couldn't read him completely.

(Reborn? Maybe. But not into what you think. Tonight, Pastor… you didn't gain a disciple. You gained a shadow. And that shadow is watching your every move.)

Delrio's smile widened, convinced he had won.

But deep within, Coonie's fists curled tighter.

The play was still unfolding and he already knew his role wasn't the sheep.

He was the wolf in sheep's clothing.

To be continue

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