CHAPTER 1: The Cross
The storm had not yet begun, but the air was thick with warning.
Black clouds bruised the sky as an old, battered truck sped through a highway hemmed in by dark forest. Rain tapped softly on the windshield—gentle but relentless—like a secret trying to be heard.
Inside the truck, the air reeked of gasoline, sweat, and stale beer.
Dominic’s father gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned pale. He was in his mid-forties, though the lines on his face made him seem older. His eyes were red-rimmed, unfocused. A half-empty beer bottle swung loosely in his left hand, sloshing with every swerve.
In the passenger seat, Dominic’s mother labored for breath. Her face was pale and clammy, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. One hand rested protectively on her pregnant belly. The other clutched the door handle like a lifeline.
And in the backseat—Dominic.
Nine years old. Small. Trembling.
His legs were drawn up, arms wrapped tight around his knees. He bit his bottom lip so hard it bled, but he didn’t dare make a sound.
The radio buzzed through the static.
> “Repent... and you shall be saved.”
His father scoffed.
> “Repent? Save?” he muttered, voice slurred. “No one saves anyone.”
The truck roared down the slick road.
Then—a flash of white in the headlights.
A woman. Young. Maybe mid-twenties. Her eyes were vacant, body soaked, arms out like wings. She stumbled into the middle of the road.
Dominic saw her first.
> “Dad!” he whispered, his voice small and shaking.
But the man didn’t lift his foot. He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t even blink.
THUD.
The impact jolted the entire truck.
For a moment, there was only silence.
The truck rolled to a stop a few yards ahead. Rain now poured steadily, pattering on metal and mud.
Dominic pushed the door open and climbed down, his sneakers squelching in the wet grass. His legs wobbled as he stepped toward the crumpled figure lying on the road.
She wasn’t moving.
Blood pooled beneath her, spreading fast like ink on paper. The rain couldn’t wash it away fast enough.
Dominic stared. His breath came in short gasps.
On the woman’s hand—a silver cross, glinting faintly under the rain.
He knelt beside her. His fingers—small, hesitant—reached out and touched the cold metal. He didn’t understand why. It just felt… important.
In the distance, sirens wailed.
And for the first time that night, Dominic felt truly awake.
