The Pastor& the prayer …. Part 4
The shotgun blast thundered through the fellowship hall so loud it made the walls shake.
Aaliyah dropped to the floor screaming, hands over her head.
For one horrifying second, nobody moved.
Then—
Jalen crashed into the table.
Hard.
A chair splintered beneath him as he fell, clutching his side.
Blood spilled through his hoodie.
“JALEN!” Aaliyah screamed, crawling toward him.
“No!” he gritted out, shoving her back with shaking hands. “Get down!”
Mother Celeste staggered backward, the shotgun slipping in her grip.
Her face crumpled in horror.
“Oh Lord… oh Lord forgive me…”
She hadn’t meant to hit Jalen.
She’d fired in panic when he lunged at Travis—
and Travis knew it.
He smiled.
That cold, evil smile that made Aaliyah’s stomach turn.
“See what happens,” Travis said softly, stepping around the table, “when people don’t listen?”
Aaliyah looked up at him with pure hatred.
“You sick bastard.”
Renee was trembling in the sanctuary doorway, chain dragging at her feet, tears streaming down her face.
“He lies…” she whispered weakly. “He lies to everybody…”
Travis snapped his head toward her.
“Shut up.”
Renee flinched so hard it made Aaliyah’s chest ache.
Then—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
A violent pounding shook the side entrance again.
All heads turned.
A man’s voice shouted from outside:
“AALIYAH! JALEN! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!”
Aaliyah’s eyes widened.
She knew that voice too.
“Marcus?!”
Travis cursed under his breath.
The pounding got louder.
“I CALLED THE POLICE!”
That changed everything.
Travis’s face darkened instantly.
Mother Celeste looked up in panic.
“No…” she whispered. “No police, no police—he’ll move her—”
Aaliyah blinked.
“Move who?”
But Travis was already moving.
Fast.
He grabbed Renee by the arm so violently she cried out.
“Come on.”
“No!” Aaliyah shouted, lunging to her feet.
Travis pulled a small black handgun from the back of his waistband and aimed it directly at her.
Everybody froze.
Even the pounding outside stopped for a second.
“Open that door,” Travis said coldly, nodding toward Mother Celeste.
She stared at him, trembling.
“Do it.”
Mother Celeste’s sobs came harder now. She lowered the shotgun and stumbled toward the door.
Aaliyah looked at her in disbelief.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I have to,” the old woman cried. “You don’t understand!”
The pounding resumed.
Marcus was practically trying to break the door down.
“AALIYAH!”
The lock clicked.
The door swung open—
And Marcus barreled inside like a storm.
Tall, soaked from rain, breathless, eyes wild.
He stopped dead when he saw the gun.
“…What the hell?”
Marcus wasn’t just some random man from outside.
He was a local freelance videographer and part-time rideshare driver who’d been circling the church for weeks.
Everybody in the neighborhood knew Marcus was nosy.
Always filming.
Always asking questions.
Always “minding business that wasn’t his.”
But Aaliyah knew the truth.
Marcus had been watching because his younger sister, Keisha, vanished six months ago after joining the church’s “purity restoration counseling.”
And nobody believed him when he said the church had something to do with it.
Not the police.
Not the congregation.
Not even Keisha’s own mama.
“You…” Marcus said, staring at Travis like he wanted to kill him. “I knew it.”
Travis tightened his grip on Renee.
“You should’ve stayed in your car.”
Marcus’s jaw flexed.
“You remember Keisha?”
For the first time, Travis didn’t answer immediately.
That silence was answer enough.
Aaliyah’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh my God…”
Marcus reached slowly into his soaked jacket.
Travis raised the gun higher.
“I wouldn’t.”
But instead of a weapon, Marcus pulled out his phone.
The screen was cracked.
Still recording.
Red light blinking.
A live stream.
Marcus held it up.
“You already too late, preacher.”
Travis frowned.
Marcus gave a grim smile.
“I been recording outside this church for twenty-three minutes. Audio too. And it’s uploaded live to three places.”
The room went still.
Mother Celeste gasped.
Aaliyah felt hope spark in her chest for the first time.
Marcus kept going, voice shaking with rage.
“Your little sermon over. Folks watching right now.”
Travis’s face twisted.
“You lying.”
“Try me.”
Marcus slowly turned the screen just enough for Aaliyah to see comments pouring in.
CALL THE COPS
IS THIS NEW HOPE BAPTIST??
HE HAS A GUN
I KNOW THAT WOMAN—THAT’S RENEE!
SCREEN RECORD THIS!!
Aaliyah almost collapsed from relief.
He wasn’t bluffing.
Travis’s calm finally cracked.
For the first time all night, true panic flashed across his face.
And that’s when Jalen moved.
Despite the blood soaking through his hoodie, he gritted his teeth, grabbed the broken chair leg from the floor, and swung with everything he had left.
CRACK.
The wood smashed across Travis’s wrist.
The gun flew from his hand.
Renee screamed and yanked free.
Aaliyah launched herself toward the gun—
but Mother Celeste got there first.
She picked it up with shaking hands.
Now she stood in the middle of the room holding both the shotgun at her feet and Travis’s handgun in her trembling grip.
Everybody froze.
“Mother Celeste,” Travis said softly, almost gently, like he was talking to a frightened child. “Now don’t do something foolish.”
She looked at him.
Then at Renee.
Then at Jalen bleeding on the floor.
Then at Marcus with the live stream.
And finally at Aaliyah.
Her face hardened.
“You stole my child,” she whispered.
Travis’s eyes narrowed.
“You still got one left.”
The threat landed like poison.
Mother Celeste nearly folded in half from the pain of it.
Aaliyah stepped forward slowly.
“He’s never giving her back,” she said, voice shaking but firm. “You know that.”
Mother Celeste sobbed harder.
“You know he ain’t.”
Marcus nodded. “He been using that girl to keep you quiet for years.”
Renee spoke up weakly from the wall.
“I seen her.”
Everybody turned.
Travis’s face went blank.
Renee swallowed, terrified.
“She’s here.”
Silence.
Aaliyah frowned. “What?”
Renee pointed toward the sanctuary.
“Not under the pool.”
She lifted her trembling hand toward the back corridor near the pastor’s office.
“In the walls.”
The entire room went cold.
Marcus whispered, “What?”
Renee’s lips trembled.
“There’s another room. Behind the prayer closet. Hidden door. He keeps her there when people come around.”
Mother Celeste screamed.
A sound so raw and broken it didn’t even sound human.
“My baby…”
Travis lunged.
Not for the gun.
For Mother Celeste.
He tackled her before anyone could react.
The handgun fired into the ceiling.
Plaster rained down.
Aaliyah ran toward them, but Marcus grabbed her.
“NO!”
Jalen, barely conscious, dragged himself forward trying to help.
Renee swung the rusted chain with a wild cry—
It wrapped around Travis’s shoulder and neck.
He roared in pain.
Mother Celeste clawed at his face.
Marcus rushed in and slammed Travis against the fellowship hall wall so hard a framed scripture plaque shattered.
The live stream phone flew across the floor.
The comments still rolling.
GET THE GIRL
CHECK THE OFFICE
HURRY
Aaliyah looked toward the sanctuary corridor.
Then toward Mother Celeste screaming on the floor.
Then back at the corridor.
Decision made.
She ran.
“AALIYAH!” Marcus shouted.
But she was already gone.
She sprinted through the dark sanctuary, past the pews, past the altar, toward the back hall where the pastor’s office sat beside the tiny prayer room.
Her heart was slamming so hard she could barely breathe.
The emergency lights flashed red.
The hallway smelled like bleach.
And something else.
Mildew.
Rot.
She reached the prayer closet.
Small.
Wooden door.
Gold cross screwed into it.
She yanked it open.
Empty.
Prayer shawls.
Old Bibles.
Cleaning supplies.
“No no no…”
Then she saw it.
A draft.
Cold air brushing her leg.
She looked down.
The baseboard beneath the back shelf wasn’t flush.
Her hands shook as she shoved the shelf aside.
Behind it—
A narrow hidden door.
Painted the same color as the wall.
No handle.
Just a tiny latch.
Aaliyah stared at it in horror.
Then from behind the door—
A faint voice.
Small.
Fragile.
“…Grandma?”
Aaliyah burst into tears.
“Oh my God…”
She fumbled with the latch and ripped the hidden door open.
Inside was a tiny crawlspace room.
No windows.
A mattress on the floor.
Buckets.
Canned food.
A battery lamp.
And in the corner—
A little girl no older than seven, curled up with a stuffed lamb, eyes huge with fear.
Mother Celeste’s granddaughter.
Alive.
But before Aaliyah could reach her—
A shadow fell across the doorway behind her.
Aaliyah slowly turned.
Travis stood there.
Bleeding from the forehead.
Marks around his neck from Renee’s chain.
Breathing hard.
Smiling.
“How touching,” he said.
And in his hand—
A second gun.
One nobody knew he had.
⸻
Yeah I need the rest of this story sis! This is too good😍😍