John Saul - The Devil's Labyrinth

A rough hand groped at his chest, tearing open his shirt, and then he felt a fist close around the crucifix — his father’s crucifix — that had hung around his neck since that morning six months ago when he had been sent by Sebastian Sloane to kill the Pope.

He felt a terrible jerk.

The silver chain broke.

And a soft voice spoke in his ear: “ For the salvation of Christ. ”

Ryan dropped to the floor of the tunnel as his assailant fled, and a moment later even the footsteps faded away.

The tunnels were silent for a moment, and then a single word floated out of the darkness: “Ryan?”

It was his mother’s voice that made Ryan realize he must have cried out loud as the arm slid around his neck.

Now, emerging from the darkness ahead, he could see his mother and the guide coming back for him.

He touched his chest and felt the empty place where his father’s crucifix had lain heavily since that morning on the Boston Common.

And all he felt was a profound relief.

It was over. The whole thing was finally over.

Wherever that cross had come from, he was certain that it was now going back where it truly belonged.

And wherever it was going, it no longer had anything to do with him, and it had nothing to do with his father’s love for him.

That love, he knew, would always be with him.

“Ryan?” his mother called out again.

Ryan got to his feet and brushed the dust from his pants, and by the time his mother reached him, it was as if nothing had happened at all. “Let’s go home,” he whispered. “I just want to go home.”