Page 9 of Unleashed (Dark Sovereign #11)

ISAIA

The cross sits in the middle of the table like it has a goddamn seat at the meeting.

Nobody touches it.

Nobody breathes too loud.

And for once, not even Caelian has something to say. Until he does.

“Well,” he says, tilting back in his chair, arms crossed. “I don’t know about you guys, but I vote we pretend that’s a decorative letter opener and call it a day.”

Maximo doesn’t look up. “You done?”

“Nope,” Caelian says, “but I’m pacing myself.”

Alexius stands at the head of the table, hands braced on the wood, eyes locked on the bloodstained piece of wood like it might start talking. “This is all Micah.”

“Dead men don’t crawl out of graves and start hobby killing again,” Caelian says, dropping into the leather armchair with a sigh. “Unless we’re going full biblical, in which case, I vote we all stock up on crucifixes and holy water.”

Nicoli leans in slightly, quiet and calculating. “We buried Micah. No one ever found him. No cops. No press. Not even a fucking whisper.”

“Yeah,” Caelian mutters, “because we’re really good at secrets. And shovels.”

I speak for the first time since sitting down, voice low and sharp. “Then explain how someone recreated his exact murder style.”

Maximo flips through the images on his phone, his expression solid, like he’s not looking at first-class mutilation. “They didn’t just recreate it. They studied it.”

“That cross.” Alexius nods toward it. “The carving. The scripture. The way the victim was posed. It’s too specific. Too familiar.”

“Don’t forget the stitched lips.” Nicoli raises a brow.

“Textbook Micah,” Maximo confirms. “Same stitches. Same eye mutilation. Cross between the legs.”

“Rings like a fucking fire alarm,” Caelian says, sitting up. “But let me play devil’s advocate. And I do mean devil. What if it has nothing to do with us? It could be an angry lover, wrong pill combo, kinky sex game gone to hell.”

I glare across the table. “You think a guy who gets off on eye-gouging and scripture-stitching just happened to pick Micah’s playbook out of the murder buffet?”

“I said devil’s advocate.” Caelian shrugs. “Not devil’s idiot.”

Nicoli finally sits, back straight. “We made sure no one knew what Micah did. Not really. Not the full scope. The body count, the rituals, the reasons—every bit of it was cleaned up and buried.”

“Literally,” Caelian adds. “Ten feet under a church, right next to our moral compass and a priest with a coke habit.”

Alexius cuts him a look. “You done?”

“Emotionally? Never.” Caelian grins. “But sure, let’s continue.”

I lean forward, fingers steepled. “So, then, what are we saying? Someone found Micah’s manifesto or something?”

“Or worse,” Nicoli says. “Someone knew him.”

Maximo rubs his chin. “We looked into everyone tied to him back then. There were no connections. No family…besides you fuckers.”

“Nice,” Caelian quips.

“No close friends. No cult membership. Guy was a lone wolf with a god complex.”

“Yeah,” Caelian sighs, “but cults love lone wolves. It’s like an MLM for psychos. One whiff of martyrdom and they start forming group chats.”

Alexius shakes his head. “We can’t rule out the victim yet. Maybe she’s the link.”

“The link that leads to us.” Maximo tosses his phone on the table. “She is…was Rowan’s wife, the guy who deals with shit in customs when it comes to our shipments. That’s not a coincidence.”

“Could be.” Caelian lights a cigarette. “Maybe she crossed the wrong priest with a butcher kink.”

“Can you be serious for once in your miserable fucking life?” I snap.

“Oh, no. Nah-ah. Your life might be miserable right now, but besides our little corpse cosplay hobby, mine’s just peachy. I even bought a plant last week.”

“Congratulations. You’re a grown-up now.”

“Thanks.”

“Now act like one.” I stare him down while he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, a plume of smoke framing his fugly face.

Nicoli clears his throat, his gaze settled on Maximo. “You think someone’s picking up where Micah left off?”

“Feels like it,” Maximo replies. “Or they’re trying to send a message.”

Alexius narrows his eyes. “To who?”

“Us,” I say simply. “Has to be.”

Caelian raises a hand. “Hey, now, let’s not all jump to the conclusion that it’s our personal boogeyman. Maybe it’s a coincidence. A murder-themed fan club. Could be a deeply disturbed Pinterest board.”

“Caelian,” Maximo says flatly.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, standing and walking toward the liquor cabinet. “I’m just saying, maybe instead of assuming this is about us, we consider it might be about her.”

“The victim?” Isaia asks.

“No,” Caelian says, pouring a drink. “Mother Mary. Of course, the victim. Maybe she had a past. Maybe this was revenge.”

Nicoli rubs his temple. “We’ll dig. But this has Micah written all over it. The precision. The message. The… performance.”

“It’s not a message,” Alexius says. “It’s a warning.”

“And what are we supposed to do with a warning from a dead man?” Caelian takes a sip. “Send him a thank-you card?”

“We find the fucker who did this,” I bite out. “And we bury him deeper than we buried Micah.”

Maximo’s phone vibrates and he flicks across the screen with his finger. “Got the autopsy report. Cause of death—exsanguination from the mutilation. Blunt force trauma to the skull. Torture pre-mortem.”

Caelian whistles low. “That could not have been fun…for her.”

I just scowl at him.

“What?” He shrugs. “This is how I deal with stressful situations. With inappropriate sarcasm. Well, that and fucking my wife, but since she’s not here…”

“Shut up.” Nicoli looks at Maximo. “We need to keep a lid on this as tight as we can.”

“Too late.” He’s still scrolling his phone. “There are whispers online. Photos. A housekeeper leaked something to a blogger. It’s spreading.”

“Fuck!” Alexius slams his fist on the table. “Call your guy, get every trace of this removed off the motherfucking internet, and fast.”

“On it.”

I get up and start pacing. The soles of my boots scuff against the marble like a clock ticking down, and I don’t realize I’m grinding my teeth until my jaw starts to ache.

“There’s something about that verse.” I stop and lean against the wall. “Especially the ‘vengeance is mine’ part of it.”

“What are you thinking?” Maximo asks.

“I dunno. But the verses Micah chose weren’t random. They were all connected to sex and sins of the flesh. If this guy really is a copycat, that verse wasn’t random either.” I glance at Maximo. “What’s the rest of it?”

He flicks through the images on his phone. “Vengeance is mine, and recompense, for the time when their foot shall slip; for the day of their calamity is at hand, and their doom comes swiftly.”

I lean my head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “For the time when their foot shall slip,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else in the room. “For the day of their calamity is at hand—”

“And their doom comes swiftly,” Caelian finishes. “Saying it out loud won’t make it make sense.”

“It’s a threat.” I ignore Caelian and look straight at Alexius. “Whoever this fucker is, he’s warning us.”

Alexius leans forward, voice low and final. “No. He’s daring us.” His gaze cuts through the room, sharp and deadly. “And we don’t get warned, we get even. I want names. Patterns. Every file on Rowan De Luca’s dealings, everyone his wife so much as texted. We tear this apart from the inside out.”

His tone leaves no room for debate.

“Because if someone’s dragging our past out of the grave…” He glances at each of us, slow and deliberate. “Then we burn down whatever goddamn ghost they sent to do it.”

Caelian raises his glass in mock salute. “To digging up old graves and burying new bodies.”

Maximo grunts. “Jesus.”

“Nope.” Caelian sips. “Just us.”

“Isaia.” Alexius looks my way. “You’re with Maximo tonight. You two make sure every trace of this is wiped off the web, and you make damn sure everyone on De Luca’s side keeps their mouth shut about this. I mean it. Use force if you have to.”

“Sure.” I nod, pushing myself off the wall. “There’s just one thing I need to take care of first.”