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The pope’s voice was cooler than Jacopo had ever heard it. “I should let you know, I had an interesting discussion with the chief of police in Rome this morning. I’m sure, that if pressed, he, along with the two men he is holding for a crime committed in Sperlonga, will be willing to speak with me, and likely witness against you in a court of law. There is also the matter of two listening devices that were found in Cardinal Armando’s office and home. Father Koenhein says they were put there on your instructions.”

Jacopo felt everything he’d worked so hard for his entire life slipping through his fingers. He’d been set up and maneuvered into this position, perhaps by the pope himself. But also by Slash. He was so furious he could hardly speak.

“Judas,” he seethed, glaring at Julian.

The pope raised a hand. His eyes were angry, distant. “Listen to yourself, Cardinal. You were once a good man. But power has corrupted you. Here’s the deal: Your confession and apology to the other cardinals has already been accepted by all, including me, as has your resignation. Youwillremove yourself from Vatican grounds, effective immediately. If you agree, I will ensure your pension and legacy, up to this point, remain fully intact. If you refuse, I will release information regarding what you have done and will consult with our lawyers to decide if we move forward with criminal charges. I give you the choice.”

“You did this—all of this—to ensure your legacy continues,” Jacopo spat out.

The pope sat back in his chair, tented his fingers. “My purpose, as your pope, is to provide a watchful and loving eye of a father who not only supports but also, when necessary, corrects his children. I will work to ensure that what God has guided me to start, continues. I understand well political maneuvering, a fervent belief in a cause and a willingness to die for what you believe. But what you’ve done, Jacopo; that is not our way. Throw yourself on the mercy of God and pray for His forgiveness.”

Jacopo stood up, bristling with anger. “There are others who will resist you.”

The pope dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I know. That, however, is a fight for another day. Goodbye, and may God grant you his everlasting mercy.”

Furious, Jacopo whirled around and stormed out the door. Only one thing was on his mind.

Revenge.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Slash

Slash thought of Father Armando as he leaned against the wall in the papal waiting area, arms crossed, waiting for the pope’s meeting with Cardinal Lazo to finish. A Bible verse ran through his head.

“And I say to thee, that thou art Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”

He wondered if the man he had considered a father for most of his life would someday ascend to the papacy. The Bible was full of instances where God had called upon ordinary men to fulfill extraordinary destinies. As pope, Father Armando would face complex and troubling issues. How would he manage a commitment to tradition while embracing an openness of the tasks God set before him anew? It was important that the church continued to evolve in order to survive. That journey required acknowledging the church’s gifts, as well as its mistakes, as it moved forward.

It was Father Armando who had taught him about a life of faith. Adapting, changing, failing, openly acknowledging shortcomings, but never giving up. Always moving in the right direction. Sometimes it meant leaving behind a safe environment and venturing out of one’s comfort zone.

It hurt to realize that somewhere along the line, Slash had lost sight of that faith. Hiding his past had been safer than confronting it, and it had almost cost him everything.

At that moment, Cardinal Lazo exited the pope’s study. He was livid, his face red with anger, his fists clenched at his side. His shoes slapped the floor as he stormed out. The papal assistants who were waiting outside the pope’s study moved inside to attend to him after the cardinal left.

Slash waited until Lazo passed, not even looking his way. When the cardinal strode into the marbled hallway, Slash fell into step beside him.

Lazo stopped, recognizing him immediately. “You,” he said with barely contained fury. “You did this.”

Slash acknowledged the statement with a dip of his head. “I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“You’ll never get away with this.”

“I believe I already have.”

“I will expose you. You will regret this.”

The time for the cardinal’s threats had ended. Slash cut in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. “I’d advise you never to threaten me again. If youevercome after me or mine again, it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Lazo scoffed at him. “So, you’re going to kill me? You’re nothing more than a monster. You use violence to get your way, but you go against all that God stands for. You pretend to be sickened by it, but you’re not. You’re going to burn in hell someday.”

“Maybe I will,” Slash answered lightly. “But not today.” Still, a part of him wondered if Lazo was right. Perhaps violence was an inherent part of his nature. But he wasn’t a monster. He’d never used violence as an end to itself. He’d used it only to prevent further violence. That wasn’t who he was.

It’s never who I was.

The realization hit him hard. Then, just as unexpectedly, he felt lighter—like at least one burden he’d been carrying his entire life had been lifted from his soul.

“You should have sided with me,” Lazo continued. “You could have been a great asset to the Vatican.”