I clenched my jaw and glanced back at the elevator. I should go back up, wait for him to leave. But if I did, he might find a secondary exitand I could miss him. I wasn’t willing to let the bastard out of my sight until he was dead.
I adjusted my jacket and smoothed my hands over the sleeves. “Lead the way.”
His eyes widened, but his only other response was a victorious grin.
Azevedo's body was growing cold on Vatican stone. The man who'd found me when I was seventeen, still drowning six years after Gabriel's death, who'd given me purpose when I thought God and faith and meaning were lost forever. The man who'd taught me that sometimes love meant picking up a sword instead of turning the other cheek.
We reached an escalator and both stepped on. For a minute, I thought he was going to run. My hand shot out and I grabbed him, shoving him against the side. "Don't mistake neutral ground for safety."
"Don't make the mistake of thinking I’m easy prey, Father."
I ground my teeth until my molars ached. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until that smug expression disappeared. But there was still a part of me that wanted to kiss him until neither of us could breathe.
Where hadthatthought come from?
I did neither. Just held him there until we had to step off the escalator together.
The floor stretched out before us looking more like a mall than an underground assassins’ hideout. Storefronts were tucked all around behind fake trees and fountains. And there, straight ahead, was an ivory archway. Scrawled across it in script was the name of a club: Eden.
Lorenzo smirked and took me by the hand, dragging me toward it.
Eden. The name alone was blasphemy. Metal trees twisted toward a ceiling painted black as sin. Neon lights pulsed in time with music that throbbed through the floor, trying to reset my heartbeat. Bodiespressed together on the dance floor in ways I'd trained myself not to notice.
Lorenzo moved into the crowd and I lost sight of him for a moment. My chest tightened, breath catching before I spotted him again, weaving through the writhing mass like he'd been born to it. He belonged here in a way I never could. Or maybe he was just so far gone that the darkness couldn't make him any worse.
Lorenzo led me to the bar at the edge of the dance floor. He ordered for both of us without asking what I wanted. Whiskey, neat, two glasses. The amber liquid looked like old blood under the neon lights.
We drank in silence, me glaring at him and him smirking at me.
"Tell me about Azevedo." Lorenzo set his glass down. "Were you close?"
My hand tightened around my glass. The bandages were soaked through with blood now, leaving dark smears on the crystal. "Don't."
"He was a good man, I'm sure." Lorenzo tilted his head, studying me. "Pity about all those children."
The glass cracked in my grip. "What children?"
"Oh, you know." His smile was slow and cruel. "Just the ones he trafficked to the Pantheon’s child assassin training program. The ones YOU helped him traffick."
I slammed my glass down. "You're lying. Azevedo devoted his life to helping children. Building shelters, schools, saving them from—"
"From what?" Lorenzo leaned closer. "From men like him?"
"He was a GOOD man. A holy man. Whatever you think you found, you're wrong."
"Then why did he have encrypted files about facilities in Romania and Thailand?" Lorenzo's eyes glittered in the neon light. "What kind of charity work requires that level of security?"
"Stop."I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?"You murdered him and now you're trying to justify—"
"I'm not justifying anything, Father." Lorenzo's voice softened, became almost kind. That was worse than the cruelty. "I'm telling you the truth. And you'll see it soon enough." Lorenzo slid off his stool. "Dance with me."
"I don't—"
His hand closed around my wrist and he pulled me into the crowd. Bodies pressed in from all sides, and the bass throbbed so deep I could feel it in my chest.
Lorenzo started to move and my brain short-circuited. His hips rolled with the music, shoulders loose, and then he turned his back to me and pressed against my body like we'd done this a thousand times. His ass ground into my hips and my body responded.
I tried to shut it down, reaching for prayer and the certainty of my vows. None of it worked. Somewhere deep down, I was more than a priest. More than a servant of God. I was still a man.
