Days passed, and Jackelin moved through them like a wraith, each night marked by the faces that haunted her, each breath weighed down by the souls she bound to her.


    And then she discovered the letter. It was buried beneath the rubble of her past, hidden within the folds of an old coat. She hadn’t expected it–hadn’t even known it existed. But the words burned into her like fire.


    Their biological father.


    The revelation was a venom that seeped into her veins, corroding whatever was left of her faith. Their father, a cleric of all things, a man who had led a life of reverence while abandoning them to the gutter. Worse still, he had fathered children across the city, each discarded as carelessly as the prostitutes he had used. And now, he walked among the righteous, his sins hidden behind the holy robes he wore.


    “Jack,” she whispered, her voice hollow, her hands shaking as she handed him the letter. She watched as his face twisted, his eyes narrowed, his knuckles whitened.


    “So, this is the man we came from,” he sneered, his voice thick with contempt. “This coward, hiding behind his robes, condemning us with his hypocrisy.”


    Jackelin felt a hollow laugh bubble up in her throat. All her life, she had believed in the Church, had clung to the idea that something pure, something worthy lay within its walls. But now, she knew the truth. Their father had been a lie, the Church a fa?ade, their faith a cruel joke..


    “I can’t let this stand,” she said, her voice steel. “He may be our blood, but he is no father. He abandoned us to rot while he lived a life of false piety. He deserves no mercy.”


    Jack’s smile widened, a spark of delight flickering in his eyes. “Then we’ll make him pay, Sister,” he whispered, his tone dark. “We’ll make him–and the whole Church–pay.”


    They moved like wraiths, gathering every scrap of information, tracing the shadows of the Church’s secrets. Each passage, each hidden room, each sacred hall became part of their dark plan. Their vengeance was meticulous, a blade sharpened to perfection, aimed at the very heart of the Church’s hypocrisy.


    On the night of their final reckoning, Jackelin stood beside Jack, her resolve a cold fire that burned through the fog that wrapped the city. They slipped into the church’s darkened halls, moving through the holy shadows like ghosts returned to haunt the living. The walls loomed around them, silent and watchful, holding within them the secrets of countless betrayals.


    They reached their father’s quarters, a dim sanctuary where the man sat at his desk, unaware of the shadows creeping in around him. Jackelin stepped forward, her breath steady, her hand on her blade, her heart as cold as the stone beneath her feet. The man looked up, his face a mixture of shock and confusion as he recognised the figures before him.


    “Who… who are you?” he stammered, his voice weak, his hands trembling as he clutched his robes.


    Jack’s smile was dark as he stepped forward, his voice a venomous whisper. “Your children,” he hissed, “the ones you left to rot.”


    Their father’s face paled, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for breath. “Children?” he whispered. “I… I don’t know–”


    “Don’t lie,” Jackelin’s voice was ice. She stepped closer, her gaze piercing, filled with all the hatred she’d carried for a lifetime. “You abandoned us, left us in the shadows while you pretended to be something holy. You have no right to mercy.”This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Jason stumbled back, his legs colliding with a chair that scraped against the wooden floor. He raised his hands, palms out, as though warding off demons. "You don''t understand," he stammered. "It wasn''t like that. I-I gave you a future. I gave you strength!"


    "You gave us nothing but misery," Jack growled. "You let her rot. You let us rot. And now you want to justify it?" His fists clenched at his sides, the fury rising like a storm in his chest. "You''re disgusting."


    Jason flinched but quickly rallied, his old arrogance creeping back into his expression as he raised a trembling hand. "You don''t even know the truth about her. You think she was some tragic, noble woman? She wasn''t. She wasn''t even one woman."


    Jack and Jackelin froze. The air in the room seemed to turn colder. Jackelin narrowed her eyes, her knife glinting in the firelight. "What are you talking about?" she asked slowly, her voice edged with dangerous calm.


    Jason let out a shaky, humourless laugh, his lips curling into a sneer despite the blood draining from his face. "Your precious ‘mother.’ She was no saint. There were two of them–sisters, prostitutes, just like you''d expect." He licked his dry lips, his gaze darting between his children. "They played their little roles: one an angel, one a devil. The angel lavished me like I was some kind of god, and the devil? Oh, she hated every second of it, but I made her submit. I–"


    Jackelin moved so quickly Jason didn''t have time to react. Her knife pressed against his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. "Shut. Your. Mouth." Her voice trembled, not with fear but with barely restrained rage. "You''re lying."


    Jason''s smile faltered, but he pressed on, his voice cracking. "Why would I lie? You''re the product of their little game. Cousins, not twins. Each of them gave me a child at the same time, and I left them to raise you together. It was perfect. Poetic. And you''ve been none the wiser until now."


    Jack''s face darkened, his breathing heavy as he took a step forward. "You''re saying... everything we''ve believed about her... about us... was a lie?"


    Jason''s laughter turned hollow. "A lie? No, no, it was art. Two sisters, two children, and I, the architect of it all. You should be grateful. Without me, you wouldn''t even exist."


    "Grateful?" Jack''s voice was a snarl as he grabbed Jason by the collar, lifting him off his feet with inhuman strength. "You made a mockery of them. You destroyed them–and now you stand here expecting us to thank you?”


    Jason tried to struggle, his hands clawing at Jack''s grip, but he could only gasp. "They... they were whores... nothing more. You''re better because of


    The garrote was around his neck before he could finish. Jack pulled it tight, his expression cold, almost calm as Jason''s eyes bulged and his body convulsed. Jackelin stepped beside him, her knife gleaming as she leaned in close.


    "You insulted them," she whispered, her voice trembling with fury. "You made them suffer. And now you will pay."


    Jason''s gurgled protests were silenced as Jackelin''s blade flashed. The cut was clean and quick, silencing him forever as his tongue hit the floor with a sickening splat. Blood poured from his mouth, pooling around his knees as he twitched and clawed at his throat.


    Jackelin didn''t stop. She plunged the knife into his chest, again and again, each strike fueled by the betrayal, the lies, the pain that had haunted them both for years. Jack held Jason steady, his face expressionless, until the body went limp.


    When it was over, Jackelin stood, her hands and arms covered in blood, her chest heaving. "He deserved worse," she spat, throwing the knife to the floor.


    Jack let the body drop, staring down at it for a long moment before speaking. "We''ll bury this, like everything else," he said quietly. "But he''ll never haunt us again."


    Jackelin wiped her hands on Jason''s shirt, her face hard, unyielding. "And his name dies with him," she said. "He deserves nothing more."


    Without another word, they left the room, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Behind them, Jason Jacobs lay lifeless in a growing pool of blood, his smugness and cruelty forever silenced by the children he had tried to manipulate.


    Sated and disturbed, the Rippers slipped from the church as quietly as they had come, leaving their father’s corpse as a dark testament to his sins. But Jackelin knew it was only the beginning. They had torn down one man, but the entire Church was steeped in the same corruption, the same lies.


    As dawn crept over the city, she felt a cold purpose settle within her. The Church had built itself on lies, and she would tear down every last one, leaving nothing but ashes.