Page 90 of Semper
He wasn’t here to beg for leniency. He had three other daughters who had turned out exactly as they should have and embraced the Impío faith with grace and devotion. Nicolette’s betrayal was a stain on his family name, much like Isabel had been a stain on ours. That was something we were only now moving past—thanks to my Lolita.
As I approached, he gave me a single nod of acknowledgment, a silent acceptance of what had to be done. Nicolette had crossed the line, and there was no turning back. This wasn’t just about punishing her—it was about restoring order, and balance.
“Diabolus,” Theron greeted me, his tone cold and distant.
As I studied the two failures before me, I noticed the subtle exchange of glances—desperate, fleeting. A shared moment of connection between the condemned. I looked toward my father, who stood silent but alert.
Our eyes met briefly, and I knew he had picked up on it too. This was more than a servant and a disobedient mistress. This was another Clarice, another foolish woman who would’ve never learned her lesson.
"It's almost like Clarice 2.0," I said aloud, my voice cutting through the silence. “But she isn’t nearly as pretty, and herhusband's just an unfortunate fool that now has to pay for her being a whore.”
Nicolette gasped, her body tensing as she realized I had discovered the full extent of her treachery. She tried to stifle it, but there was no hiding her fear now.
Bishop, ever the instigator, chuckled darkly. “I thought she was sending him heart eyes. How boring, Nikki. You could’ve aimed higher.”
Emilio shook his head with mock disappointment.
“You know what this means. You have to start with him.” He motioned to William’s broken form. “The driver goes first.”
I turned toward William, who was barely holding onto consciousness, his head lolling forward. He wouldn’t be of much use for long, but there were plenty of ways to extend his suffering if I chose. I crossed my arms, considering my options.
“What should I do with him?” I asked, looking toward my Magistri. “Suggestions?”
A few ideas were tossed out, each one darker and more brutal than the last, but Phoenix's quiet voice cut through the noise, catching my attention.
“I can make him a centerpiece for your Rite,” he said, his tone casual.
The room fell silent, his words sinking in. The Rite was a sacred ceremony, essentially my wedding.
William was no longer useful as a man, but as a symbol of the Isle’s judgment?
I tilted my head, considering. “A centerpiece, you say?” I glanced back at William, imagining the twisted display Phoenix could create. It was fitting, poetic even. Nicolette’s betrayal had destroyed him, and now, he could serve one final purpose—an example of what happened to those who failed the Isle.
I turned to Nicolette, whose eyes were wide with terror. She was shaking now, the reality of her situation finally sinking in.
“Do you hear that, Nicolette?” I asked, playfully. “Your lover gets to be part of something far greater than himself. He’ll be remembered for one final act of service.”
“No,” she whimpered, her body trembling.
“And as for you…” I trailed off, letting the silence hang heavy in the air.
“I’d say you’re getting off easy, Nikki. Just a little punishment. Nothing compared to your boy toy,” Bishop commented.
My father remained silent, watching me closely, but I knew he approved. A balance had to be restored, and this was the first step. I gave Phoenix the nod, granting him full control over William’s fate. I could practically see the excitement in his eyes as they gleamed with a dark joy. Phoenix lived for moments like this—where the line between brutality and artistry blurred. I knew he’d make William's suffering a masterpiece.
Emilio, never one to let a grim moment pass without a joke, smirked. “Careful, Phoenix. Don’t make it too pretty. We don’t want to inspire anyone else.”
Phoenix chuckled; already lost in whatever twisted vision he was forming in his mind. My father, ever the tactician, turned his attention to Theron, whose demeanor was weighed down by his daughter’s failure.
“What are you thinking, Theron?” he asked, his voice calm but probing. He knew the older man well, far better than I did and was the one who gave him his position.
All I knew about Theron was that he was exceptional at his role as the Isle’s chief financial architect, overseeing the intricate flow of wealth and resources that kept our secluded society thriving. His knowledge of numbers was unparalleled, and his attention to detail had saved us from more than one economic pitfall. Outside of that? His wife baked some of thebest chocolate chip cookies the bakery had ever sold. A man like him didn’t seem fit for the hell his daughter had thrust him into.
Theron sighed heavily, running a hand through his graying hair. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, his eyes distant, filled with regret. I couldn’t blame him for that. If I had a daughter—and I realized in that moment I soon would—she wouldn’t be able to so much as breathe on this Isle without me knowing where she was. The very thought of some low-level scumbag like William even looking at her had my blood boiling.
My son, too.
I clenched my fists as the idea of a woman like Nicolette near my boy made me want to rip her apart with my bare hands. No. I would burn the Isle down before I let something like this filth touch him. A bitter resolve settled in me as I thought of my unborn child. Being a father was an entirely new reality, one I hadn't shared with anyone yet or wholly come to terms with. Now clearly wasn’t the time for such an announcement, but I’d never been more eager to share something in my life.