Chapter 7 - The True Bloodline
The Cathedral of St. Jude was not a house of prayer tonight; it was a fortress of shadows.
Located in the historic district of the city, the towering gothic cathedral had served as the neutral ground for the Syndicate Commission for nearly half a century. Dozens of black town cars filled the cobblestone courtyard, engines idling under the pouring rain. Armed guards patrolled the iron gates with rifles concealed under long trench coats.
Inside the vaulted nave, beneath stained-glass windows depicting saints and martyrs, over forty syndicate capos, district bosses, and lieutenants were seated in heavy oak pews.
Standing before the altar, illuminated by hundreds of flickering beeswax candles, was Dominic Stone.
Dominic looked almost identical to his brother—tall, handsome, and sharp—but his eyes lacked Lazero’s stoic honor; they burned with an anxious, ravenous hunger for power. He held a crystal glass of whiskey, his voice echoing passionately off the vaulted stone ceilings.
"My brother Lazero was a warrior," Dominic projected, pretending to choke back grief. "He ruled our family with strength. But his recklessness tonight—bringing an untrained woman into the den of wolves and provoking Venturo Holmes—cost him his life. The Stone family cannot appear weak! We must strike back tonight, and to do that, I require absolute command."
Several older capos nodded grimly in agreement.
"We need proof, Dominic," an old Don named Corrado spoke up from the front row. "If Lazero is dead, succession follows the bloodline, but the Commission must verify the bodies."
"There are no bodies left to verify, Corrado," Dominic replied with false sorrow. "Their car was incinerated on the bridge. We only found ashes."
"Then you should have looked closer at the ashes, brother."
The deep, thundering voice boomed from the back of the cathedral.
Every head snapped toward the massive wooden entrance.
The heavy doors groaned open against the storm. Silhouetted against the flash of lightning stood Lazero Stone. Beside him walked Callie, dressed in a sleek charcoal tactical suit, her hair slicked back, her eyes shining like molten gold in the candlelight.
Gasps rippled through the pews. Several capos jumped to their feet, reaching for their weapons.
"Hold your fire!" Don Corrado bellowed, raising his cane. "No blood on consecrated ground!"
Dominic’s face drained of every drop of color. The whiskey glass slipped from his fingers, shattering across the altar steps. "Lazero... you’re alive."
"You look disappointed, Dominic," Lazero said calmly, walking down the central aisle with slow, deliberate footsteps that sounded like the ticking of an execution clock. "Did your mercenaries on the bridge fail to send you the confirmation photos?"
"Mercenaries?" Dominic stammered, his eyes darting frantically to the guards posted at the side chapels. "I don't know what you're talking about! Venturo attacked you—"
"Venturo was an idiot who thought he was playing a small game of embezzlement," Callie interrupted, her cultured voice cutting through the hollow church. "He was taking orders from you."
Dominic sneered, regaining his arrogant composure. "Who is this girl? Lazero, you're losing your mind! You bring an illiterate secretary into the Sacred Council to make accusations?"
Callie smiled—a cold, beautiful, predatory smile.
She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew an antique signet ring of heavy gold, crested with a roaring black panther clutching an emerald shield. She held it high for every elder in the nave to see.
Don Corrado gasped, crossing himself in genuine terror and reverence. "The Moretti Seal... Don Marco's personal ring!"
"I am Callista Moretti," she declared, her voice echoing into every dark corner of the cathedral. "Sole heir to the Moretti family, rightful owner of the harbor docks, the rail corridors, and the charter you dogs have been fighting over for eight years."
The room erupted into frantic murmurs. Capos began backing away from Dominic as if he were carrying a plague.
"She’s an impostor!" Dominic shrieked, pulling a hidden pistol from his waistband and aiming it directly at Callie’s chest. "She’s a liar sent to divide us!"
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Before Dominic could pull the trigger, Lazero stepped directly into the line of fire, his own weapon already drawn and leveled at his brother's forehead.
"Lower the gun, Dominic," Lazero commanded in a voice of terrifying finality. "Or this holy ground will see its first brother slain since Cain."
