She came to Los Angeles for redemption. She found a religion of lies.
Haunted by her violent past, Nadine Singh fled to L.A. seeking peace. She finds it in Spiritology, a movement promising a methodology for happiness. But as she enters the inner circle, the shiny veneer cracks.
She realizes the charismatic leader is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and their “salvation” comes at a deadly price. Nadine wanted to bury her dark side, but to destroy this false idol and survive the cult’s grip, she must let the monster out one last time.
Six months ago, Nadine Singh stood on London’s Tower Bridge and made a choice: she would stop trading pieces of her humanity for justice.
Burnt out from a life of violence and haunted by the voice of her mentor, Sister Anita, she fled to Los Angeles to reinvent herself. No more killing. No more shadows. Just a clean slate in the city of dreams.
Desperate to fill the spiritual void inside her, Nadine is drawn to “Spiritology”—a movement that promises an exact methodology for happiness and a bridge between spiritual aspiration and psychological reality.
For a woman running from a dark past, it feels like the answer she’s been praying for.
But as Nadine delves deeper into the organization’s inner circle, the shiny veneer of self-improvement begins to crack.
She realizes that the “salvation” being sold comes at a terrible price, and the charismatic figure leading the flock is not a shepherd, but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Nadine wanted to bury the monster inside her. But to destroy a false idol and survive the cult’s deadly grip, she may have to let the monster out one last time.
Beware of those who speak of freedom but deal in slavery.
THE LOS ANGELES sun beat down on the pavement like a judgment. Nadine Singh adjusted her sunglasses, but they couldn't block out the glare of the city or the memories burning at the edges of her mind. Six months ago, she had stood on London’s Tower Bridge, looking down at the dark water, and made a choice. She would stop trading pieces of her humanity for justice. She would stop killing.
Now, she was in the City of Angels, a place where people came to reinvent themselves, or to get lost. Nadine wanted both. She stood before the glass doors of the "Institute for Spiritology." The building was a pristine white monolith rising from the smog, untouched by the grit of the street. It looked like a temple. It looked like a hospital. It looked like an answer. Her hand drifted to her chest, feeling for the outline of Sister Anita’s cross beneath her shirt. The metal was warm against her skin, a tether to a life she had abandoned but couldn’t quite escape. Just a clean slate, she told herself. That’s all I need. She pushed open the doors and stepped into the cool, recycled air.
SILENCE WRAPPED AROUND her instantly. The lobby was vast and aggressively serene. Soft, ambient music drifted from invisible speakers. The walls were adorned with oversized portraits of a man with a benevolent smile and eyes that seemed to follow her—The Founder, or whatever they called him. A receptionist with perfect teeth and dead eyes looked up from a sleek white desk. "Welcome to the Institute. Are you here for the Orientation?" "I'm here for... help," Nadine said. The word felt heavy on her tongue. "We have a methodology for that," the receptionist smiled, her expression unmoving. "Everyone finds what they’re looking for here." A door opened silently behind the desk, and a man stepped out. He was handsome in a way that felt manufactured—too symmetrical, too groomed. He wore the organization's slate-gray vest. "I’m Julian," he said, extending a hand. "I’ll be your Auditor today. You’re looking for the Bridge, aren’t you? The path between spiritual aspiration and psychological reality." Nadine took his hand. His grip was firm, his skin dry and cool. "I just want the noise to stop." "The noise is just the Reactive Mind," Julian said soothingly. "We can clear that. We can make you clear." He led her down a long, windowless corridor. The deeper they went, the quieter it got. The air grew colder. Nadine’s instincts, honed in the dark corners of the criminal underworld, pricked at the back of her neck. Predator, a voice whispered in her head. But she pushed it down. She was here to heal, not to hunt.
THE AUDITING ROOM was small, consisting of two chairs and a table with a device that looked like a lie detector from the 1950s. "Hold the cans," Julian instructed, pointing to two metal cylinders connected to the machine. Nadine sat. She gripped the metal cylinders. "We’re going to locate the trauma," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming hypnotic. "We’re going to find the sins you’re holding onto. Tell me, Maria... or is it Nadine? What is your greatest regret?" Nadine froze. She hadn’t given them her real name. She hadn’t given them any name yet.
Julian smiled, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes. He tapped a file on the table that Nadine hadn't noticed before. It was thick. And on the tab, in bold letters, was a location she hadn't visited in years: Sacred Heart Orphanage. "You came here to bury your past, Nadine," Julian said softly. "But we prefer to dig." He leaned forward, the benevolent mask slipping just enough to reveal the wolf beneath. "The doors are locked," he whispered. "Shall we begin?"
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