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CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
Trinitas Cathedral looks like something tourists would spend hours walking through, taking pictures of the stunning stained-glass windows as they oohed and awed over the ornate architecture.
This place, though, is strictly off-limits to anyone but the five families and their representatives. A religious bunch, they believe in the sanctity of the place, adhering to rules they might not somewhere else, such as no blood shall be spread beyond that of a sacrifice. That’s pretty damn vague, and after reading the covenant backward and forward, I figured it was vague on purpose because I found a passage that could change everything.
I stand in the vestibule in a long purple silk robe, watching as the others arrive. As much as my stomach threatens to empty its contents all over my Jimmy Choos, I can’t help but smile and feel a little smug that things are playing out the way I hoped. I run a hand over my still-flat stomach and allow myself to wonder what the future holds before shutting that down. Nothing is guaranteed. Getting attached is pointless.
I look down at the invitation in my hand, the same as those I sent to all the families—very specific and delivered in a manner that would be impossible to ignore. Pinned to a dead body from one of their houses. A body that had the Santos brand burned into their faces.
The pews on either side of the aisle face inward as opposed to the front. Everyone can see each other as they take their seats. I wait until the last person is seated before I signal with my hand for the doors to be locked. The ominous clang makes my guests anxious as they start arguing and shouting out questions.
Ignoring them all, I slip on my patented Sugar smile and strut to the pulpit. If I thought my presence would make everyone quiet down, I would have been sorely mistaken. Men jump from their seats, outraged that there is an unknown in their sacred place, but no one draws their weapon.
Oh, I don’t doubt some snuck a few in, though they were all supposed to be handed over at the door. I can’t say I blame them for wanting to know what the fuck is going on, but killing the messenger means no answers for the questions they have.
“Quiet,” I roar before pulling my gun and firing into one of the windows. A window that has been preserved for hundreds of years, and I don’t give a fuck.
Gasps fill the room, but everyone quiets down except for Felipe, the head of the Kypianos family. In the pew behind him, watching me warily, is Belen.
“How dare you come in here and—”
“Oh, sit down and shut the fuck up, Felipe. Nobody gives a shit what you have to say.” He sits, shock written on his face, either from being told what to do or from being yelled at by a woman–it’s a toss-up.
I look around at the faces, most of them familiar to me, yet there is zero recognition from any of them. “First of all, thank you for coming.”
I ignore the loud snort as I move up the aisle, dragging my fingers over the wooden pews, showing these assholes no fear. “I won’t drag this out, mostly because I can’t stomach being in your company for any longer than necessary. It seems the five families have started to lose their touch since I’ve been gone. You used to be…better, or so I thought, until you all proved me wrong. But I try not to hold grudges. A few rotten fruits do not mean you burn the whole orchard, right?”
“Who are you?” a deep voice bellows as I turn and offer the fat asshole in the front row a smile.Theodore Calimeris, head of the Calimeris family. Man, did he let himself go.
“Where are my manners? My name is Sugar Daniels. My friends call me Sugar. You, though, can call me SophiaMichelakis.”
That gets a reaction. People start yelling again, and it’s honestly really fucking annoying. I shoot out another window, which shuts everyone up again.
“You’re not being very nice to me. And to think, I even brought you a gift.”
At my words, Scope strolls in from the back, holding Santos’s severed head by his hair. I give him a beaming smile and feel the change in the air shift from anger to fear. He places the head in my arms before kissing my temple and moving to stand at the vestibule with his arms crossed.
“Oh, don’t mind him. That’s just Scope. He’s one of the presidents of the Chaos Demons MC, but to me, he’s family.”
I let that nugget of information sink in. I walk over to George Galaris, the head of the Galaris family, and hand him Santos’s head. He grimaces before handing it to his second-in-command.
“Now, where was I? I did my welcome speech, brought my gift…”
“Maybe you could get to the fucking point,” Theodore snarls.
I lift my eyes to his, and his face pales as all the friendliness disappears from my expression. “Ah, yes, the point. Excellent idea. Let me explain why I brought you all here. It’s a long story, so get comfortable.
“Once upon a time, there were two sisters. One was sold to a bad man, and one was stolen by him. That man was evil, so evil that people spoke about him in whispers just in case, like the boogeyman, he appeared out of thin air to kill them. But instead of uniting and dethroning him, you worshiped him and fed his godlike ego until he was gone. Then you scrambled over his carcass, tearing off strips of meat for yourselves, hoping one of you would get more than the other.
“You could have been free, learned your lessons, saved your daughters. But power corrupts, and the darkness Santos instilled in you festered and spread.”
I look around at these men and laugh at the fear and unease in their eyes.
“Some of the greatest people I know are criminals. Labeled bad seeds who don’t follow the law. And that might be true, but they have something none of you do. Honor.”
Men start filing in behind Scope, moving to take a place beside him. Men who I have helped over the years. People I built alliances with, readying myself for this very moment. There are MC members from Chaos Demons, Kings of Carnage, Raven Souls, and even Sons of Purgatory. I look at Will and Cash as they walk out, looking ready to throw down at a moment’s notice, and hide my surprise when I see both Kai and Jude beside them. Seems Viddy was feeling generous.
King steps up beside me and pulls out a cloth pocket square, and I kid you not, he dabs at a bead of sweat on my forehead.
