43. Lazarus
The dim lighting casts long shadows across the room, and the low hum of conversation is punctuated by the occasional moan or laugh. This place is a den of sin, a playground for the Brethren’s most depraved desires. And tonight, it’s exactly where I need to be.
I sit in a private booth, a glass of whiskey in my hand, the amber liquid catching the flickering light of the club.
The booth is secluded, offering a clear view of the room while keeping me hidden from prying eyes.
I sip the whiskey slowly, savouring the burn as it slides down my throat, and watch.
The club is alive with activity. Men and women move through the space, their bodies pressed together, their faces flushed with lust. On the stage a woman is tied to a pole, her body writhing as a man takes her from behind.
The crowd watches, their eyes hungry, their hands roaming over their own bodies or those of their companions.
It’s all so predictable. So mundane.
But then I see him.
Antonio.
He enters the club with his new pet, Grace, at his side, his hand gripping her arm tightly.
She stumbles slightly, her face pale, her eyes downcast. She’s dressed in a sheer dress that clings to her body, leaving little to the imagination.
Antonio leans down, whispering something in her ear, and she nods, her expression blank.
I watch as he leads her to the centre of the room, his grip never loosening. He says something to her, his voice low and commanding and she drops to her hands and knees, crawling behind him like a dog. The crowd parts for them, some laughing, others watching with keen interest.
Antonio stops near the stage, turning to face Grace. He grabs her by the hair, forcing her to look up at him, and says something I can’t hear. She nods again, tears streaming down her face and he releases her, stepping back to watch as she crawls onto the stage.
The crowd cheers as Grace is tied up, her body exposed for all to see. Men step forward, taking turns with her, their hands rough, their movements brutal. Grace doesn’t scream, doesn’t fight. She just takes it, her eyes vacant, her body limp.
I feel a flicker of disgust that anyone would want to abuse their wife in such a manner, but I push it aside.
This is the world we live in.
This is the Brethren. We men rule, and our women do as their told.
Antonio watches from the sidelines. He doesn’t see me, and I make sure to keep it that way. I don’t need him knowing I’m here. Not yet.
I take another sip of whiskey, my eyes scanning the room, and then I spot my real reason for coming tonight.
Ezekiel.
He’s sitting across the room, his gaze fixed on the stage. Is it morbid curiosity, or something closer to hatred on his face? He’s dressed in a dark suit, his posture relaxed but there’s a tension in his shoulders that tells me he’s on edge.
And he should be. He’s a wanted man. Esau. There’s a blood price on his head so high even I would be unable to save him if someone realised he was here and decided to collect.
I consider approaching him, but before I can make a move he turns, his eyes meeting mine. He nods, a small, knowing smile on his lips, and gestures for me to join him.
I hesitate for a moment, then stand, making my way through the crowd as inconspicuously as I can. Ezekiel watches me as I approach, his gaze sharp, calculating.
“Lazarus,” he says quietly as I sit down beside him. His voice is calm, measured, but there’s an undercurrent of something darker.
“Ezekiel,” I reply, nodding in acknowledgment.
He picks up the bottle on the table and pours out a glass before setting it in front of me. I take it, swirling the liquid, and wait for him to speak.
“As I said, I have no quarrel with you,” he says after a moment. “My fight is with your brother.”
I raise an eyebrow, feigning curiosity, but I’ve done my research. Does he think I’d be stupid enough to come here tonight if I hadn’t? “Oh?”
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “Konstantine is a liability. He always has been. He’s reckless, impulsive, and he’s putting the Brethren at risk. It’s time for him to be removed.”
I take a sip of whiskey, considering his words. “Who’s to say I won’t be the same as him?”
He let’s out a laugh, a noise that sounds more barking than amused.
“I know you, I recognise what you are. The second son, the more tempered, more astute, more rational man.” He states before taking a sip of his own drink.
“I have been you, you see. I have played your very part. Hēdoni hēdonēi gignōsketai…” He adds in perfect fucking Greek.
Like is known by like. “… you and I are the same, Lazarus. Two similar beasts. We have fought our way through dirt and blood, clawed our way out of hell…”
“And you’re point being?” I growl. I didn’t come here for a bloody sermon. I know he thinks he’s a prophet, a messenger from God, but his blood is no more holy than mine.
“My point,” He says, smiling with amusement, “is that I trust you. I believe you and I are evenly matched, that together we can rebuild everything for the better.”
Oh he paints such pretty lies, doesn’t he? He really thinks me either na?ve or desperate enough to drink them all up.
But I am desperate in a way. Desperate to be rid of my cursed brother, to be done with this situation once and for all. To finally have my woman safe and out of Konstantine’s clutches.
“And how do you propose we do that?” I ask.
Ezekiel takes another sip, one clearly meant for dramatic effect. “A bloodless coup. We replace him with you, and no one even realizes.”
A chuckle escapes me before I can stop it. “No coup is bloodless, Ezekiel, even you know that.”
He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It will be if we’re careful. If we’re smart.”
My eyes dart across the room, to where Antonio is even now, standing right there in front of us. If he knew, if he realised what this is… thank fuck for his wife. Thank fuck for the distraction she’s creating.
I lean back, studying Ezekiel for a moment, weighing his words. He’s cunning, ruthless, and he obviously has his own agenda, but he’s also right. And if I can use Ezekiel to remove him, to take the throne for myself, then perhaps it’s worth the risk.
“And what do you get out of this?” I ask, my voice low. ”We both know you’re not doing this out of the kindness of your own heart.”
Ezekiel’s eyes gleam, giving him away before he even speaks a word.
Oh, he wants something, something very fucking important to him.
“I want what the Esau have always wanted, what we have asked for, what we have fought for all these centuries. I want us to return to the fold; I want us welcomed back. No longer outcasts, but honoured servants of the Brethren, and I want a seat at the table. I want to be a Guardian, to have a voice in Brethren affairs.”
I nod, hearing what he’s not saying. That he wants power, and not just that but if I grant him these things, I elevate him. I prove he really is everything he claims to be to his followers. I give him legitimacy, I give him credibility.
But I can promise these things. I can promise him all of this, and once the bigger threat is removed, I can deal with him too. When my enemies enemy is eliminated, then he will become the next threat I need to exterminate.
“Alright,” I say, extending my hand. “We have a deal.”
Ezekiel shakes my hand, his grip firm, his smile cold. “Good.”
I glance toward the stage, where Antonio is still preoccupied. “Antonio will need to be dealt with,” I state.
He nods, following my gaze. “Leave that to me.”
“He must not be killed. Do you understand? I want him taken off the board only temporarily.”
Antonio is loyal, too loyal to kill. He and Zayn are the only two Guardians I truly trust, and while he might prove to be a thorn in my side, he is far too valuable to the future of the Brethren to simply do away with.
“Temporarily.” Ezekiel repeats like he doesn’t understand the word.
“Create a distraction, something big enough to keep him out of the way.” I state, and then it hits me exactly what that distraction should be.
I stare at the stage, and Ezekiel turns his head, staring too before he starts to grin.
“She was Esau.” Ezekiel murmurs. “Her parents were…”
“I know.” I reply, cutting across him. Like I need the history lesson.
Her father was meant to be Chapter Lord before we discovered that little detail.
He paid for that sin dearly, he and his wife.
She’s in Oblivion now, she’s a sex slave, a living example to us all of what happens when you don’t follow the rules.
Ezekiel stands, finishing his drink. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, before disappearing into the crowd.