Chapter 31
I scrapped my initial plan to fly commercial to Rome—the home of the Lex Talionis. Booking a hotel was out of the question after the stunt Fernando pulled. I took my private jet instead.
The flight out of Mexico was spent brooding. I couldn't guess why my family had been summoned, but I was determined about one thing: I was going to appeal to the Pontifex to restrict Fernando.
"We'll be arriving shortly, sir," the pilot's voice came across the cabin.
About ten minutes later, the jet landed, and I climbed down the stairs unceremoniously. Several other jets were scattered across the field. I looked around and noticed Sebastian's jet in the distance.
After his short episode of taking Lucy away and Lucy's refusal, I'd heard little from him. He'd left on the designated day of his departure.
I set such family affairs aside and fixed my gaze on the imposing structure of the Lex Talionis building. I walked toward it, and my bodyguards followed behind. They stopped at the entrance, though. Women, bodyguards, and weapons weren't allowed in.
The hall of Lex Talionis hadn't changed. It never did. Power was solidified here and didn't evolve. The moment I stepped through the tall iron doors, the air shifted. Not in temperature, but in weight. It pressed against my chest, subtle but undeniable.
A few eyes snapped up to meet mine, and nods of greeting were exchanged. Men were looking for a favor, no doubt. I smelled envy and jealousy from some.
The looks weren't of curiosity, but of calculation and assessment. I walked forward and climbed the stairs that would take me to my family's box.
The Lex Talionis was built in ancient times, long before the invention of microphones and speakers. Hence, every hum of conversation among the hundred or so below bounced off the walls of the hall.
The Lex Talionis was an underworld political system that regulated the crime world. The Pontifex was the overall head of the Lex Talionis. His word was law. The Curia consisted of six powerful families that headed and directed the affairs of the hundred or so common members.
To find oneself in this circle was either through connection or luck. However, to be among the six families of the Curia was a great responsibility handed down by destiny.
The presiding box of the Pontifex was empty for now. I approached Sebastian, who was already seated in the box.
"Hey bro," I placed my hand on his shoulder and lowered myself into a seat by his side.
"Hey," he answered.
"How have you been?" I asked.
"You mean after you lured my girl with a job she couldn't resist?" he chuckled to remove any sting from his words.
"Something like that," I answered with a chuckle.
"I'll be fine. Just want to get through whatever bullshit this is all about. Any idea what the possible reason for this is?" he asked, waving his hand about the hall.
From our sitting point, we could see the common members already seated and trading rumors, no doubt.
"Nope. Nothing comes to mind," I replied.
The other families of The Curia began to fill up their boxes. Some spoke in low tones. Others watched in silence. Each one powerful and dangerous, and none of them was here by accident.
Footsteps approached from behind. Sebastian and I assumed that it was our father, so we both turned. My eyes met the blue eyes of the mischievously annoying Rafael Alcázar, father to Benjamin and Fernando Alcázar.
I'd done business with Rafael once or twice before, and I'd come to the conclusion that he didn't trust anybody. Not even his sons. And that was why he still held his seat here instead of passing it on.
"Montoya," his voice echoed across the hall, thick with irritation. "I didn't expect you to arrive this early. I thought you'd be taking care of your home. Quite in a bit of disarray, is it not?"
Age hadn't softened him. If anything, it had sharpened the air of irritation around him. His dark hair was sprinkled with bits of grey, his jaw rigid, and his blue eyes carried the promise of conflict.
"I didn't realize attendance here was optional," I replied calmly.
In reply, Rafael scoffed loudly.
"Of course it isn't. But some of us don't need to prove our loyalty every time we're summoned," he said in mock amusement.
I said nothing. Silence has always been more effective than reaction. The door behind The Pontifex's box opened with its distinct sound. All eyes looked up and watched as The Pontifex stepped into his box.
"Get the fuck out of here, you scumbag," Sebastian's low, threatening voice made me realize Rafael was still there.
Rafael looked like he wanted to say something but eventually thought better of it and left. I looked back at ex-General Alfred, The Pontifex, as he stood at his box. He commanded the attention of the men present in the hall.
Power didn't need to be declared here; it was understood. He remained standing. His presence settled over the room like a verdict yet to be spoken.
"We begin," he said.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to because his voice echoed around the hall, and every conversation died instantly. His gaze moved across the boxes before he shifted it to the common members below, as if taking note of the people in attendance.
"You've all been summoned here due to the reports of disturbances we've been receiving," he continued.
"To what extent?" a member of the De Luca family asked in a measured tone.
"It's enough, though, to warrant this gathering," the Pontifex replied.
A calculated pause ensued.
From somewhere among the common members, someone else spoke.
"Disturbances aren't uncommon. In fact, it's a way of life. Surely it isn't worth summoning," the voice was smooth and almost amused.
A subtle shift in tension rippled through the room. The Pontifex's amused eyes danced over the form of the voice's owner.
"And yet, we're here. Power must remain balanced. Chaos is bad for business. Crime is life, but it must be regulated. Imbalances are punished," he responded to the voice.
Nervous laughter bellowed among the men below. The Pontifex allowed it. I leaned back slightly in my chair, my fingers resting loosely against the armrest. The room was watching itself.
I felt a movement at my side and looked slightly to the side. It was my father. I gave him a nod of greeting, and he grinned.
"The Montoya family," the Pontifex said, and all eyes turned to our box. Silence.
"Go on Seb. You're representing The Montoyas," my father whispered. Sebastian stood and walked to the edge of the box.
"Can you tell the whole congregation why you're still unmarried and without kids? Male kids," he was asked.
"Kids aren't a problem. Alex had them. Oh, and a son," he replied sheepishly.
"No!" the Pontifex thundered. "It's not enough. I want you married in six months' time and with a kid in the preceding one year after. Preferably a son."
"Or else I'll arrange a marriage for you," he finally said.
"I'll try my best," Sebastian replied.
"And Alex, more boys are expected from you," he thundered. I nodded slightly. "You're dismissed," the Pontifex said to Sebastian.
"Step up, Alex."
I did as commanded by the Pontifex.
"What's between you and the Alcázars? Fernando, in particular. There have been consistent reports of attacks exchanged between your warehouses. There's still the matter of Fernando taking your wife, Brenda. The newest of it all was the attack on your home. Can you expand on that?" The Pontifex looked worriedly at me.
"Six armed men intruded on my estate two nights ago," I began.
The words fell cleanly into the silence. Sharp. Delicate. I let the weight of it settle before I continued.
"They weren't there for the money," I added. Now the interest sharpened. A breach was one thing; a targeted move was another.
"And what exactly were they there for?" someone asked. I paused long enough to make it uncomfortable.
"A girl. One whose name I won't mention," I replied. Doing otherwise would cause a security breach, and I'd be rendered vulnerable.
"Is this a certainty? And the girl isn't your daughter?" another voice pressed. "I don't believe in uncertainties, and no, it's not my daughter. It's a maidservant," I said.
Silence hit first. Then the murmurs followed—sharp, disbelieving.
"Silence," the Pontifex's voice thundered.
"Who sent them?" he asked in the hush that followed.
"Fernando Alcázar," I said.
"Liar. Be careful what accusations you make. My son's not reckless," Rafael snapped from below.
"I said silence!" the Pontifex fumed, annoyed with the commotion of murmurs that filled the hall.
"It's a certainty, My Lord," I said evenly. "Fernando Alcázar is nothing but a coward. Place your restrictions on him if you must."
I held the room's gaze.
"And if he violates them, I'll kill him myself."