Page 46 of Vows in Violence

The priest’s gaze darts from us to the door and then to the men scattered about the room before coming back to rest on us. He is terrified.

“Please. Let us protect you.” I try one last time.

Father Greco draws in a deep breath. “Fine,” he finally mutters, expelling the air in a gusty sigh. “This way.”

He still seems nervous. Tiny beads of moisture collect on his forehead, and he glances around the chapel as if looking for spies. He leads us past the altar and through a side door, which opens up to a hallway where doors lead to various other rooms. Father Greco opens the door to a room with several computer monitors and towers. All of the screens show live feeds of various parts of the church.

He gestures at the screens. “Don Valachi demanded that we add surveillance a few years before he passed.”

Ivan is already leaning over a keyboard, staring intently at the various views. “Perhaps he wanted to keep an eye on Azrael,” he says.

I suppose it’s naive of me, but this is a side of my father I hadn’t known existed—a strategic, cunning side. I’ve only ever seen him as a man of indulgences. Lulu and I were placed in the positions we were because of his love of cars and luxury items. If I had to guess, I’d attribute my mother’s drinking and abusive behavior to her own feelings about the man. He flaunted a never-ending parade of mistresses with little discretion during my childhood.

It never struck me as particularly unusual behavior for a man in his position, simply something all of the Dons engaged in.

Don Privilege.

But I guess there was more to my father than I ever witnessed.

I look up at Ivan’s face, illuminated by the glow of the computer screens.

I don’t think Ivan is like that. At least…he had better not be. The thought of him having another woman awakens a beast inside of me I never knew existed.

I think I could kill her if such a female existed. Take a knife and slide it between her ribs, plunge it up and into her cold, black heart. I don’t normally let anger such as this rule me—I pride myself on my temperance and control—but I do think, in a situation like this, that I could be just as vicious as Carina or Evie.

Still, Father having the foresight to install cameras tells me that perhaps he did more as a Don than just bask in the luxuries his position afforded him.

Ivan turns his head to look at the priest. “Do you have a camera trained on Azrael’s box?”

“Yes. Just give me a moment to find the day that Angel left his message for Azrael.”

He slides alongside Ivan and seats himself, then reaches for the keyboard.

It takes longer than a moment, the computer taking its sweet time to render the images his quick tapping pulls up. Ivan’s impatience beside me communicates itself in the restless shift of his feet as we wait, and I give him another reassuring squeeze of my hand.

Finally, the image of a person appears on the screen—a woman in a winter coat. She looks as if she just dropped her kids off at a playdate. There’s nothing vicious or sinister about her to give alarm, and she opens the box casually, without alerting any of the individuals seated to pray in the sanctuary just beyond her.

She doesn’t read the message on the spot but casually places it in her coat pocket and walks out of the church.

Father Greco changes the screen to the parking lot, where we watch as she walks off the property.

Ivan groans, his fingers tensing around mine. “Useless.”

The video keeps playing. Ivan presses. “This can’t be the only information you have.”

Father Greco shakes his head, stubbornness in the set of his mouth. “Mr. Romanov, Azrael is just as mysterious to me as they are to you.”

“Who set up the box?” Releasing my hand, Ivan reaches for the keyboard. “When did that take place?”

The priest’s response halts him. “That occurred before my time. I admit to being curious years ago…I looked. There are no church records that state when the box was installed.”

“Damnit…” Ivan pauses, considering. “How does Azrael know when a message is sent?”

Greco’s response is a shrug. “I don’t know. I suspect that one of my attendees is part of Azrael.”

Between the image of the woman on the screen and the thought of Azrael being part of the priest’s congregation, a chill runs down my spine. My sense of security vanishes as the last bits of the foundation beneath me crumble. All of the faces I’ve seen outside of my car window…every casual encounter I’ve ever had… Even the housekeeping staff in my home—any of these people could be Azrael. My interactions with them could all have been moments when I was face-to-face with somebody assigned to watch me. Somebody who could have ended me in a heartbeat, if that’s what they were supposed to do.

Father Greco goes to speak, but Ivan shushes him. Ivan leans toward the screen, and I follow his gaze. The woman reappears at the edge of the parking lot and gets into a white sedan.

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