Reparation of Sin: A Sovereign Sons Novel

by Zavarelli, A.

  I hear him swallow.

  “He told me when he came to the house the day of the gala that it was a birth control shot.”

  I grip the edges of my chair waiting for him, for his reaction, my heart racing inside my chest.

  “A birth control shot,” he repeats robotically like he’s processing the meaning.

  I swallow, nod. I leave out the part about not wanting to have that monster’s baby because I’m starting to wonder who the true monsters are in our world.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His expression doesn’t change, the line of his mouth stretched tight, jaw tense. His hands balled into tight, angry fists.

  He’s not quite looking at me. Not at first anyway because when his eyes do finally zero in on me, the look inside them sends ice down my spine.

  “It’s not you who will be sorry for this one.” He checks his watch. “Go to your room and do not come out until I tell you that you can come out.”

  “Okay.” I get to my feet, relieved. “Can I have the letters? Please?”

  He nods once and I reach out to take them but as I’m setting the paperweight aside, he puts his hand over mine to stop me from pulling away.

  I look up at him.

  He gestures to my robe. “You’re not to swim alone.”

  “Why not? The doctor said—”

  “You’re not to swim alone. Only when Mercedes or I can be with you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want you having one of your episodes in the pool.”

  I bite the inside of my lip as I study him. Days ago, I would have made the comment that it wouldn’t serve him to find me drowned. It would take his fun away. But somehow it doesn’t fit anymore.

  “And no guards either. I don’t want them looking at you. Just me or Mercedes. Do you understand?”

  "Yes,” I say as I think back to my dress at the gala. To Mercedes.

  He releases me and I take the stack of letters. “Santiago—”

  “Go to your room, Ivy.” He is dialing a number on his cell phone.

  “What are you going to do to Abel?”

  He glances at me, cocks his head to the side and stands.

  I step backward because even with the desk between us, right now, he looks terrifying.

  He grins. “You have other things to worry about, don’t you? Like saving your neck. You’re not off the hook with me or with The Tribunal. You still owe us a name. For starters.”

  “I just—”

  “Go to your room.” He sounds almost calm but I know that tone. There’s a current underneath it. A rage. “Now.”

  I drop my gaze, nod and hurry away.

  18

  Santiago

  "Open the fucking door, Chambers!" My fist rattles against the heavy wood, shaking the frame with the force of my rage. "You can't hide all night."

  It's well after four o’clock in the morning, but I know that fucker is lurking in there somewhere.

  "Would you like me to open it, sir?" Marco asks, shrugging to indicate he's ready to use his body as a battering ram the moment I give him approval.

  I prefer to do things less messily. Already, dogs are barking. A light in the neighboring house has flipped on. Curtains have moved. There is at least one possibility of spying eyes aware of our presence, and considering that I don't intend to leave here tonight without Chambers’ blood on my hands, that could be a problem.

  I give it another moment, waiting for some indication of life inside, but when that doesn't happen, I gesture for Marco. We walk around to the side of the house and locate a window that will be large enough to accommodate each of us.

  I'm ready to throw my elbow through the glass when Marco shrugs out of his jacket and ushers me back.

  "I've got this, boss."

  He wraps his arm in the jacket and thrusts it through the window, shattering the glass like a missile just blew through it. Then he heaves his giant body inside and clears the way for me to follow.

  The room we happen to invade is the home office. I’ve never been in here before, but I notice something is off about the space almost immediately. It's too clean. Too... empty. Sure enough, when I bend to open his filing cabinet, it's vacant. A quick investigation reveals the same to be true about his desk. There isn't a single trace of paperwork. Not even so much as a bill in his name.

  "Fuck.” I slam the drawers shut and glance around.

  This situation isn't inspiring a quick resolution like I was hoping for. Marco opens the door and clears the hallway, veering toward the foyer while I head for the sitting area. The house is freezing, the air conditioner seemingly maxed out, and there's no way anyone could be dwelling in these temperatures comfortably.

  "Call if you need me, boss," Marco whisper-shouts as he disappears upstairs.

  My polished leather shoe crunches over broken glass as I turn the corner, and I pause, eyes scanning the fragments of a vase. It's the first sign of Chambers’ haste to leave. Someone must have tipped him off that I'd be coming for him soon. He knows there would be no forgiveness for his interference into my duties to produce heirs. That's the only logical explanation I have. At least until I catch a glimpse of a shadow beneath the settee.

  I move quietly, the weight of my pistol heavy in my shoulder holster as I flip on the lamp and wait for movement. But after a few breaths, it becomes apparent the body hiding beneath isn’t going anywhere. A scan of the uniform and the rigidity of her muscles provides an explanation for the chilly temperatures. Whoever stuffed Chambers’ maid beneath that sofa was trying to eliminate the smell of decomposition.

  "Christ," Marco grunts when he appears beside me and examines her.

  Using my shoe, I nudge the sofa back, and Marco rolls the body over. There's no blood, but it's evident by the bruising on her neck she was strangled. A fact that immediately leaves me to doubt it was Chambers himself who did it. Strangulation is not a quick, easy death. It takes power, strength, and endurance. Someone who is physically fit and capable of squeezing their subject's throat for up to five minutes while they fight for their life. The only endurance Chambers would be capable of for that length of time is deep-throating hamburgers.

  "Any sign of him in the house?" I ask Marco.

  "No," he says. "Upstairs is clear. All his clothes are still here. Personal toiletry items are untouched. If he did flee on his own, he must have left everything behind."

  I drag a hand through my hair and sigh. Already, I know Chamber's didn't leave of his own accord. He's too fond of his materialistic comforts in life to abandon them. Something about this situation reeks of betrayal, and I won't rest easy until I know who's behind it.

  "Call the secretary of the Tribunal," I tell him. "Inform them we need a body removal at this address. I want you to do one final sweep of the place and then burn it down when she's gone."

  "On it, boss." He nods.

  "Call me when it's handled."

  * * *

  "Dominus et Deuce.” Abel bows as he opens the door to the Moreno family home, his voice pleasant but features tight. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Santiago?"

  "Cut the shit." I grab him by the collar and slam him back against the banister, my switchblade grazing his throat as his eyes bulge. "I know what you did."

  “Please do inform me of what crime has brought you here this evening,” he says. “I am not aware of it myself.”

  “Two words,” I spit. “Birth control.”

  "Fucking Ivy," he growls. "Whatever she told you is a lie."

  "Don't toy with me, you piece of shit." The blade nicks his skin, crimson dripping down over my fingers. "I just came from Chambers’ house. I know he's gone. Someone is trying to cover their ass."

  "Chambers?" Abel repeats dumbly. "I don't know anything about that."

  My eyes narrow as I dig the blade deeper, biting into his skin. Abel hisses, trying to jerk out of my grasp, but he knows he can't. There's nowhere to run. Not from me.

  “And what about Hol
ton? Will he be missing too?”

  “Fuck if I know,” he bites out. “What does Holton have to do with anything?”

  "This is a dangerous game you've been playing," I tell him. "It leaves me to question if you value your life at all. Not to mention the lives of your siblings. Your mother. Your father. Your sister, who I should remind you lives under my roof."

  His jaw flexes, but his resolve remains unwavering.

  "Tell me what purpose it served to inject my wife with birth control," I demand. "What benefit could there be to risk her life in such a way?"

  "Whatever agreement she made with Chambers was hatched between the two of them," he answers bitterly. "That fucking girl never does as she is told. I had no idea about any birth control, so perhaps the person you really need to speak with is your own wife. Of course, I imagine that's why you find yourself here in the middle of the night, is it not? A little difficult to trust someone who lies constantly. Someone who tried to kill you not that long ago, if memory serves correct."

  His biting words do nothing to temper my rage, but I can’t deny he has a point. Was it Ivy? Was she the one who made the agreement with Chambers about the birth control? And is he the one who helped her secure the poison as well?

  Abel sees me wavering. The tilt of his lips and amusement in his eyes burns the still-fresh wound of his sister's betrayal, and he knows it.

  "Give me one good reason I shouldn't slit you from ear to ear right now." My blade digs deeper still, slicing through layers of flesh as Abel stares up at me, unblinking. He's emotionless, and I thought for certain he'd be pleading for his life. But instead, he seems to be aware of something I am not.

  "You won't kill me." He reaches up and wraps his fingers around the blade, cutting himself as he yanks it away from his throat and forces his way out of my grasp. "And you won't kill Ivy. I can see it in your eyes. She tried to murder you, yet she still breathes. There is only one plausible explanation for that. She’s inside your head. She’s getting to you.”

  A caustic laugh rumbles from his chest as he shakes his head. "Human emotion is such a weakness, isn't it, Santiago? I did not think you capable, but it appears even machines can be taught how to love."

  "Love has nothing to do with it.” I clip the words through gritted teeth.

  "Then why did you allow her to send you on a fool's mission?" he challenges. "Chasing your answers all over the city when you already have them at home. You just don't want to accept that it was your wife's scheme. That she couldn't bear the idea of having your children. A monster's baby, I believe that was the phrase she used. Perhaps you should ask her about that."

  "Ivy isn't lying about this."

  I’m not sure I even believe my assertion. Abel might be a fucking flea, but he has a valid observation, and it's an obvious one. I did exactly as he says. I believed what she told me and came here for the truth, when I should be forcing it from her lips instead. Why didn’t I challenge her on this? Why would I assume that, after recent events, I could chance anything she says to be truthful?

  "It seems to me you have yet to weed out all the traitors in your own home," Abel says somberly.

  My eyes snap back to his. "What traitors?”

  He sighs as if the information he's about to relay pains him deeply. "I have it on good authority that someone very close to you provided my sister with the lipstick she wore that night at the gala. I'm sure I don't even need to mention her name. You already know who it is."

  The blood in my veins reaches to a boiling point, searing me from the inside out. I should murder him for even hinting at the idea, but a dark seedling of a thought begins to take shape. Mercedes was the one who dressed Ivy that night. She helped her prepare. She purchased the clothes and did her makeup. How could Abel possibly know that? He wasn't there.

  As I study him, fingers locked around the switchblade, I'm still considering the consequences of stabbing him between the eyes when he offers one last nail in the coffin.

  "She's been trying to cover her tracks. Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me. I'm only telling you what nobody else has the courage to say to your face. The thing they all whisper about when your back is turned. I think it's only fair someone finally tells you the truth."

  19

  Santiago

  "Where is Mercedes?"

  Antonia startles, nearly dropping the tray in her hands as I intercept her in the kitchen. She's staring at me like she's seeing a ghost, and I'm consciously aware of the fact that it's morning, and I'm in one of the few well-lit areas of The Manor. But vanity doesn't have a space in my thoughts right now.

  "She hasn't come home yet," she answers quietly. "Would you like me to call for you when she arrives?"

  "Yes."

  She hesitates as if there is something else she wants to say but isn't quite sure how.

  "What is it, Antonia?"

  "Will you be awake?"

  There's a kindness in her tone that makes me falter, and I can't comprehend it. How can this old woman stare down the vulgar beast in front of her and find even an ounce of softness in her heart?

  "I don’t have intentions on resting anytime soon," I inform her. "But should I fall asleep, bring Marco with you to wake me. Just to be safe."

  She nods, offering a small smile. "Can I get you something to eat?"

  "Not right now, thank you." I shift uncomfortably. "Has Mrs. De La Rosa... has Ivy eaten her breakfast already?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Thank you, Antonia. That is all."

  I turn and take my leave, stalking down the corridor and up the stairs to Ivy's bedroom. When I open the door, a small gasp flies from her lips, and she wears the same startled expression to find me lurking about at this hour.

  "Santiago?" Her voice is tinged with concern as she tries to uncover the meaning behind the stormy expression on my face.

  "I need to know now." I shut the door behind me, securing me inside the room with her.

  Her eyes dart to the walled-off escape and then over my body. She looks as if she's trying to determine her options but accepts there are none left.

  "What do you need to know?" she asks carefully.

  "I need the name of your accomplice," I growl, stepping toward her. "Who gave you the poison, Ivy?"

  She sucks in a sharp breath and shakes her head. "I can't give you a name because I wasn't the woman who poisoned you."

  The wording of her declaration confuses and infuriates me.

  "This isn't a game." I seize her by the arms and drag her up, pinching her face in my grasp. "You will tell me, or they will kill you. It's that simple, Ivy. Surely, even a fucking Moreno can comprehend that much."

  "Don't talk to me like I'm stupid." She presses her palms against my chest, trying to shove me off. "You're the one so blinded by your hatred for my family you can't comprehend the only logical conclusion, which is that I'm telling you the truth."

  "The truth?" I echo her words darkly. "What truth should I find in the constant stream of lies you have spewed since you walked into this house?"

  "It wasn't me!" she yells, shoving with all her might.

  I grab her arms and pin them behind her back, walking her backward until she hits the wall. The breath leaves her lungs in a grunt as we collide, and despite the fury surging through my body, I am so hard for her I just want to fuck the confession out of her.

  "Tell me." I wrap my icy fingers around her throat and squeeze. "Who gave you the poison?"

  "Nobody," she snaps. "Because it wasn't me!"

  "Goddammit." My lips hover over hers, breath fanning against her skin. "They will kill you if we don’t give them a name. What part of that don't you understand? There is no alternative. You give up the traitor to save yourself. That's the only way this will play out."

  "I can't." She wheezes, straining against my grasp. "So, torture me all you want, but I can't give you what I don't know."

  "Was it Chambers?" I demand.

  "Chambers?" she repeats, eyes narrowing.
"Do you really think I would be in on something with that sick fuck? You know what he did to me."

  "Colette then.”

  This she laughs at.

  "God, sometimes you really can be incredibly paranoid. Do you even realize that?"

  The last accusation leaves my lips on a choked whisper. "Mercedes?"

  Her face sombers, and my fingers fall from her throat as she peers up at me with a sadness I don't understand.

  "It must be so lonely," she answers softly. "To hold such little faith in the people around you. To see everyone as an enemy. Even your own blood."

  "Tell me." My voice fractures as I press against her.

  Ivy manages to pull one hand free from behind her. Instead of using it to claw or fight, she reaches up to stroke my face. The scars I have no doubt she can see clearly beneath the ink.

  "Don't," I warn her, but I'm not stopping her, even as I say it.

  My eyes fall shut, and I let her touch me, telling myself I will end it. One more second, and I will end it. But I don't. She studies me with her fingers, smoothing over the rough, taut skin, tracing the lines of the skull.

  "You aren't as much of a monster as you think," she whispers.

  My eyes open, cold and hard as I grab her hand and force it away. "I know what you're doing."

  "You always do." She smiles up at me sadly. "You always know what everyone is doing, though. They are all full of evil intent. Lies and shady motives. Isn't that right, Santiago? Nobody can be trusted. Not even your own sister apparently."

  "Did she give you the lipstick or not?" I demand.

  "Of course she did." Ivy sighs. "But it doesn't matter that she gave it to me because that woman in the footage was someone else. Someone dressed just like me. Someone who wanted to look like me that night."

  "Convenient," I mutter. "But not even remotely believable."

  "God, you are such an—"

  I cut her off with a violent kiss, arching her head back to devour her mouth. Ivy freezes momentarily but then surprises me when she starts to devour me too. We are two rabid creatures, clawing at each other with staged hatred but desperate for more of this toxic attraction between us.