Clash of Sin and Secret (Diamond Dagger Mafia #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Scottie

B lood stains no longer cover the golden walls of the hub, but I still see them. Not because my senses have heightened after receiving my father’s Sacred Squire powers—although every color is more vibrant, every smell more distinct, and every sound sharper.

No, the dark images I see in my mind’s eye were seared into my memory during my ill-fated return to the Vasari vampire compound a few weeks ago.

A return to the only home I’ve ever known.

The invasion of the Vasari vampire compound left dozens dead, two of the finest and most well-respected men in the world of the Fondatori Kings senselessly taken, and Zane and I without our fathers.

As the clan fills into the open space, I stare at the ancient artwork and sculptures instead of making eye contact. There is a lot of hostility toward me right now.

Some are angry that I left for years and abandoned this family.

Some are angry that a human was loved as a daughter by their king.

Some are angry that I’ve been chosen to succeed my father as the protector of the vampire king.

I had nothing to do with that. In fact, if I had been consulted, I would’ve flat-out refused. But I wasn’t consulted and here we are.

My chest tightens at the sight of so many vampires filling the massive circular space. The usual boisterous energy of the gathering place is replaced by hushed whispers and quiet sobs.

Standing in one of the sculpture nooks, near one of the six archways leading deeper into the compound, my fingers trace the intricate carvings in the marble. The familiar patterns offer no comfort today.

“So sorry for your loss, Scotland.”

“Thank you, Dante.” I dip my chin toward the ancient warrior as he passes. He came over to the new world with Francesco and was one of his oldest friends.

“Condolences, Scottie.”

“Thank you, Link.” I offer him a sad smile. He refers to himself as B-cubed: big, black, bald, and beautiful. He is all those things.

They are two of Francesco’s royal guards and are taking the losses as hard as Zane and me. Their entire purpose in this compound was to safeguard the King of Toronto.

They failed.

And because my father’s life force was bound to the king he protected, when Francesco died, so did he.

My father’s absence has left me gutted and with a gaping hole in my heart that aches night and day.

I don’t know how I’ll go on without him.

Zane climbs the small stage set up in the center of the hub, his broad shoulders rigid under his tailored black suit. Back straight, chin lifted, and wearing the black diamond signet ring of the Toronto Fondatori King, he looks out at his clan.

“My brothers and sisters.” His voice carries through the hundred-foot space, bouncing off the domed ceiling. “Today we honor those taken from us.”

I swallow against the thickness in my throat. Not all who were taken.

We should be honoring Francesco and my father, too. Another thing Daeva and her fucking army of turned mutts stole from us. But the two leaders of this clan can’t be laid to rest—not while Francesco’s head remains the sick trophy of the bastard behind all this.

“The attack on our home was an act of war from a cowardly foe.” Zane’s words crack like a whip. “Whoever Lazarus Kaza is—whether or not that’s his real name—him sending Daeva and her army to seize control of our territory was a mistake. A mistake we will make him regret.”

Murmurs of approval ripple through the crowd.

The pain in this room is a living thing.

“I give you my word.” Zane’s emerald gaze sweeps the gathering, and for a moment they lock with mine. The muscle in his jaw twitches, the raw anguish he feels leaking through the squire bond we now share. “We will find every last bastard responsible for this atrocity. We will find them, and we will end them.”

When Zane finishes and steps down from the dais, the crowd moves to converge around him. I’m content to remain in the back.

Tucker leaves his father with the crowd and navigates the outer edge of those gathered until he works his way around to join me. When he’s close enough, he reaches behind me, presses a massive hand at my back, and pulls me forward into his embrace. “How are you holding up, beautiful?”

“I’ve had better days.” I draw a steadying breath and let the magic arcing between us ease me. When Tucker was conceived, his father carried the same squire powers I now carry. We think that’s why any physical connection between the two of us feels so incredibly right.

Either that or we really are fated mates.

“I’m sorry you had to stand here all alone.”

I squeeze him tighter and ease back to look up at him. He’s got a foot of height on me and with his massive, muscled frame, he’s twice as wide. “Don’t worry about that. I grew up as a human within a vampire seethe. I’m used to standing on the outside looking in. Besides, Jack still doesn’t look like he should be out of bed. I’m worried about him.”

“You and me both. I would’ve thought Zane’s healing would’ve had him back on his feet in fighting form a week ago.”

Yeah, me too. “I’ve been thinking about that. I wonder if commanding magic for decades somehow made him less responsive to the magical healing properties of Zane’s blood and saliva.”

“Whatever the reason, his recovery is taking longer than it should.”

“Which is why he should be in his quarters resting.”

Tucker grunts. “He’s got the ‘can’t be told’ gene.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “He’s not the only one. There’s something in the water, here in the compound.”

Enveloped in the muscled frame of my shifter lover, I close my eyes and let his heat chase away the chill of grief I’ve been carrying for weeks. “Da and Francesco deserve to be at rest, too.”

“They do. And we’ll make that happen sooner rather than later.”

I hope so. Zane and I agree Francesco shouldn’t be sent to the afterlife incomplete. We must recover the king’s head and send him off whole. Until we make that happen, he and my father will remain in a magical stasis.

I watch Zane addressing the crowd. His frame is rigid, his hands clenched at his sides. To others, he appears collected—every bit the royal leader taking command in a crisis—but I see the storm brewing behind his calm facade.

Blood will spill in the days to come.

And I will be right there with him to bathe in it.

Zane

“We will find every last bastard responsible for this atrocity. We will find them, and we will end them.” My voice cracks with the last words of my tribute to those lost, my fury slipping from my control.

The gathered vampires bow their heads in respect, but the weight of not properly being able to lie my father and Bran to rest sits heavy in my chest.

It’s not right. After the life they lived, they should be able to pass to the afterlife with honor.

Lazarus Kaza and his spawn deprived them of that.

I scan the crowd, nodding as citizens offer their condolences, but with my attention locked on the back of the group. Scottie is finding comfort, wrapped in Tucker’s massive arms. The pinched line of her brow has eased, and the tension has drained from her shoulders.

Scottie is mine to comfort.

Mine to love.

She is mine.

My fangs ache at the sight. She looks so small against his broad chest, her blonde hair catching the dim light of the candles lighting the hub.

Before the endless line of well-wishers thins, I thank the remaining mourners and excuse myself. I can’t maintain the facade of me being their gracious leader when her contentment is thrumming over our shared bond.

Tucker easing her heartache tears at something primal inside me. It’s not his place.

My shoes click against the polished marble floor as I round the gathered clan members and approach them. Tucker’s golden eyes meet mine, unflinching. He doesn’t release his hold on Scottie, and I respect him for that even as jealousy burns through my veins.

“Scots.” My voice comes out rougher than intended.

She turns in Tucker’s arms, her blue eyes rimmed red. “Hey. That was tough. You did well, Z.”

The nickname pierces my heart. At least we’ve come that far. Even from the distance between us, her familiar scent—vanilla and human—floods my senses. “Let’s go home. I can’t be out here anymore.”

Scottie closes the distance and squeezes my forearm. “You gave the clan what they needed to move forward. Francesco would be proud.”

I brush a tear from her cheek, thankful she’s allowing me this moment of tenderness. “We’ll find Daeva and reclaim what they stole from us. Then, we’ll lay our fathers to rest properly.”

“Damn right we will.” Scottie swallows and turns back to Tucker. “Make sure Jack gets to his room. I’ll walk up with Zane.”

Tucker leans down to kiss her and then winks. “See you soon.”

It galls me to see their affection, but I have nothing to say about it. I made my choice years ago when I pushed her away. Now I have to live with watching her find comfort in another man’s arms.

“Shall we?” I hold out my elbow and she accepts the offer, hooking her arm with mine like she did when we were kids.

I may be on the outside looking in for the moment, but I’ll win back her trust. Whatever it takes, Scotland McCullough will be mine again.

Huntley

Zane walks away, arm-in-arm with Scotland, like nothing has changed. Who the fuck cares that she’s been gone for a decade without a word? Or that I was the one who got him back on his feet? Or that I was the one to watch his back and fulfill every one of his needs for that time?

Yeah, who cares? My jaw clenches so hard my teeth might crack.

“Always the same fucking story,” I mutter, turning away from their retreating forms.

The memorial crowd disperses, leaving behind the lingering scent of grief and anger. I spot Dante and Link by the west entrance, their heads bent together in conversation. Perfect.

I stride up to them, not bothering with pleasantries. “Tell me one of you assholes has turned up something on Kaza.”

Dante shakes his head. “Nothing concrete yet. But we’ve got feelers out in every dark corner of Toronto.”

“Not good enough.” I run a hand through my hair. “That bastard has our king’s head, and we’re standing here with our dicks in our hands.”

Link shifts his weight. “He’s gathering power and building an army of turned vamps. That won’t stay under the radar forever.”

No, it won’t, but patience isn’t my best event. “We need a location—a target to focus on.”

“Speaking of focus,” Dante’s gaze drifts to follow Scottie and Zane down the opposite corridor. “How does it work now? Who’s in charge?”

A muscle ticks in my jaw. “Scottie inheriting Bran’s powers changes nothing. I am still Zane’s right hand. I’m still in charge.”

“But technically, the Sacred Squire is the voice of the king. She’s the one in charge.”

I cut him off with a look. “She might have magic now, but she doesn’t know how to use it. She also doesn’t have fifteen years of experience keeping Zane alive. And she doesn’t know his moves in a fight, the players in Toronto, or the climate of the other races.”

Link and Dante exchange a look that makes my blood boil.

“What?”

Dante holds up his hands. “It’s just…history has a way of repeating itself with those two and she’s his Sacred Squire.”

“In name only.” I step closer, using every inch of my Viking height. “I earned my right to stand next to Zane. Scottie inheriting powers she has no idea how to use won’t change that.”

They nod, but their eyes tell a different story. We’ve all seen it before. Zane and Scottie, the golden duo. The rest of us are just rotating satellites in their orbit.

“Keep digging on Kaza and Daeva,” I say, already turning away. “I want them both.”

I stalk back toward the residence, each step fueling my resolve. Let them doubt me. Let them whisper. I’ll find Kaza. I’ll bring back Francesco’s head. And I’ll remind everyone—especially Zane—who really has his back when shit hits the fan.

Not the girl who ran away when things got tough.

Me. The one who stayed.