Chapter 5: The Devil's Due

Chapter 5: The Devil's Due

"Thorne Industries," Chloe read aloud from her phone, her voice a low hum of astonishment as they drove away from the church. "CEO and founder, Marcus Thorne. Started with a single construction truck, now runs a multi-state logistics empire. Net worth… oh, wow." She let out a soft whistle. "He's not just rich, Eli. He's a titan. A self-made king in this small town."

She swiped through a series of images. The man in the photos was exactly as the System's warning had suggested. Marcus Thorne wasn't just a businessman; he was a force of nature. Even in professionally shot headshots, he looked less like he was posing for a corporate bio and more like he was contemplating a hostile takeover of the camera itself. He was huge, with a shaved head, a jawline that could cut glass, and eyes that held a permanent, simmering fury. This was the dragon.

Their first attempt to meet him was as futile as trying to walk into a fortress. Thorne Industries' headquarters was a gleaming tower of black glass and steel that loomed over Havenwood's quaint downtown. The lobby was a cathedral of minimalist wealth, all marble and hushed efficiency. A sleek, impeccably polite receptionist listened to Chloe’s well-rehearsed pitch about her journalism article and shut her down with a smile that was both friendly and absolute.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Thorne's schedule is managed months in advance. He doesn't grant interviews without a formal corporate request."

Defeated, they regrouped in their car, the imposing tower filling the windshield.

"Okay, so the front door is out," Chloe sighed, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "The man is a ghost. How do we get to a ghost?"

Elias stared at the building, his mind racing. The System had provided no new skills, no easy answers. It had given him the lead; it was up to him to follow it. He thought of the women in the church, the raw fear in their eyes when they spoke Thorne’s name. It wasn't just reverence for his wealth. It was fear of a wounded animal. A very large, very powerful wounded animal. And they knew exactly what had wounded him.

"We don't need to get past his defenses," Elias said, a cold certainty settling over him. "We just need to give him a reason to lower the drawbridge." He looked at Chloe. "Your professional approach won't work. We need to use the one thing he can't ignore."

Chloe's eyes lit up with understanding. "The bait."

Ten minutes later, from a public Wi-Fi network at a nearby coffee shop, Chloe sent a new email to the general contact address on Thorne Industries' website. It was short, brutally direct, and addressed to Marcus Thorne himself.

Subject: David Cain - Havenwood Community Church

Message: I know what he did to you. I have information that can help you finish it.

They didn't have to wait long. Less than an hour later, a reply came, not from Thorne, but from an address that was just a string of letters and numbers. There was no greeting and no signature. It was just an address on the outskirts of town and a time: 8 p.m. Tonight.

The address led them down a long, winding private road, past signs that warned against trespassing in no uncertain terms. The house at the end was not just a mansion; it was a statement. A sprawling modern structure of stone and dark wood, it was built into a hillside overlooking the entire valley, its large windows like vacant, watching eyes in the twilight.

A severe-looking woman in a grey suit met them at the door and led them through silent, cavernous rooms to a wood-paneled study. The room smelled of old leather, whiskey, and something else—a sterile, controlled rage. Bookshelves lined one wall, a massive desk dominated the center, and on the far side, a floor-to-ceiling window offered a breathtaking, god-like view of the city lights below.

Marcus Thorne was standing in front of that window, his back to them, a monolith silhouetted against the sparkling expanse. He was even larger in person, a mountain of bespoke tailoring and coiled muscle. When he finally turned, his face was a stony mask, but his eyes were burning coals. He didn't invite them to sit.

"You have sixty seconds," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in Elias's chest. "Start talking."

Chloe, for the first time Elias could remember, seemed momentarily thrown off her game by the sheer intensity of his presence. She opened her mouth, but it was Elias who spoke, his voice steady.

"My name is Elias Vance. I was a ministerial student at Grace Chapel in Northwood. David Cain is our new Minister of Music." He let the words hang in the air. "He framed me for theft and slandered my name to have me removed. He took my entire future away from me."

Thorne's expression didn't change, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. "A common story. Cain is a parasite. It's what he does. That's your problem, not mine. Why are you here?"

"Because we know what he did to you," Elias pressed, his gaze unwavering. "We know why you left Havenwood Community Church. We know it involved your wife."

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Thorne stared at Elias, his eyes boring into him, searching for weakness, for deception. He found none. The cold rage in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flicker of something that looked like respect.

"My ex-wife," he corrected, the words clipped and precise. "She was a Deacon. A pillar of the community. And Cain, with his perfect smile and his empty words about grace, seduced her. Not in secret. He flaunted it. He made a fool of me in my own church, in front of my own community."

He walked over to his desk, his movements deliberate and powerful. He didn't sound like a heartbroken husband; he sounded like a king recounting a betrayal by a trusted general. It wasn't about love; it was about honor, pride, and the unbearable humiliation of being played.

"I have a reputation to maintain," Thorne continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "So, I handled it. I paid for the church's silence. I paid for my wife to disappear quietly. I made sure the story was that he was 'called' to a new ministry and she had a 'breakdown.' I buried him."

"But you didn't destroy him," Elias countered. "You just let him move on to a new field to plow. My life is the proof."

A dark, humorless smile touched Thorne's lips. "I see. You didn't come here for help. You came here to form an alliance." He studied Elias, then Chloe, then Elias again. "You have courage. But you have no power. What could you possibly offer me?"

"A target list," Chloe cut in, finding her voice. "We can get you the entire directory for Grace Chapel. The names of every deacon who empowered him, every member who believed his lies. You buried the story here. We can help you broadcast the truth there."

Thorne considered this, his gaze distant. "Broadcasting the truth isn't enough. People believe what's convenient. To burn down a man like Cain, you need fire. You need something they cannot ignore, cannot explain away, cannot pray away."

He turned back to his desk and unlocked a drawer with a small, silver key. He pulled out a sleek, black smartphone and placed it on the polished wood. With a few taps of his thumb, he turned the screen towards them.

"I didn't just bury the story," he said, his voice a chilling monotone. "I buried the evidence. My wife, in a moment of either guilt or spite, left me a parting gift. She wanted me to see what I was up against."

He pressed play.

The video was professionally lit, clearly filmed in an expensive hotel room. David Cain, his charming smile now a lecherous grin, filled the screen. He was talking to the camera, his voice a sickeningly sweet poison. And beside him… a woman Elias recognized with a jolt as Thorne’s wife from the pictures Chloe had found.

The video was explicit, sickeningly so. But it was Cain's words that were the true venom. He was mocking Thorne by name, bragging about his conquest, ridiculing his faith, his marriage, his manhood. He was performing for the camera, a narcissistic devil glorying in his own depravity.

Chloe let out a small, strangled gasp and looked away. Elias felt a wave of nausea, but he forced himself to watch, to absorb the sheer, undeniable power of the weapon on the table. This wasn't just proof of an affair. It was a character-destroying, life-ending bomb.

Thorne switched off the screen, plunging the room back into semi-darkness.

"This is the fire," he said softly.

Elias looked from the black screen to the burning eyes of the vengeful man who held it. The moral lines he had lived by his entire life were dissolving into smoke. He had come here seeking justice, a way to clear his name. But what Thorne was offering was something else entirely. It was annihilation.

A terrifyingly powerful ally had just entered the game. And as Elias met Marcus Thorne’s gaze, he realized he wasn't afraid. He was relieved. The fight was no longer his alone. He had found his dragon, and together, they were going to burn David Cain's world to the ground.