Dipping his chin, Karl replies, “Hopefully, one day, in the near future, we can make a game out of it-perhaps the person who collects the most blood.”
“Oh, count me in,” August interjects, and we all follow suit. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell any of us would miss out on an opportunity to slaughter our enemies and win bragging rights.
A throat clears, drawing our attention to Matthieu. “It’s time for everyone to get into position. Senator Baker has arrived, and he’s brought along five more people.”
“How was he able to get them in without us knowing?” I inquire.
“The Senator called an hour before you arrived requesting to have guests added to his list. I was ready to refuse when I found out they’re currently members,” Matthieu explains.
Liam already has his phone out, his fingers flying across the screen, adjusting for unknown new players. “How many new guests are there?” he mutters, obviously annoyed with the last-minute additions.
“Five,” is all Matthieu states. He’s being purposely obtuse, only answering questions he’s being asked instead of providing us with everything he knows.
Sighing, I check my watch. We have twenty minutes before tonight’s festivities to begin. “Well, don’t keep us in the dark. Who are they?”
The slight twitch of his right eye is the only indicator he doesn’t appreciate my pushing the issue. However, he knows we can’t afford to go in blind. We all stand in silence, waiting for answers. He huffs, then finally says, “The Council.”
LIAM
“What the fuck is the Council doing here?” Rowan seethes, pacing the length of the room. “Have they been in on this all along?”
I don’t bother to stop him from processing the bomb Matthieu dropped before insisting we follow him to the area we’ll have as our headquarters for the night. Time is ticking away as we follow behind him, but the stench of betrayal coats the large surveillance room-barely allowing us enough air to breathe.
As Rowan continues to wear a hole in the floor, August, Karl, and Sebastian stand behind me, watching the Council mingle amongst known enemies. “I might believe our fathers are behind this, but there’s absolutely no fucking way Aaron Bradford would do this to Emma,” Karl mutters.
“How well do we know him to assume that?” Sebastian retorts, lifting his hand to list his thoughts. “The man was forced into hiding for decades, his spot as the rightful leader of the Fraternitas was given away, and his family was torn apart.” Looking at Karl, he arches his blond brow. “Should I continue because I can do this for days?”
He isn’t lying. Aaron has lost a lot, and, in many aspects, he’s still being forced to sacrifice more of himself and his family. That alone is reason enough to jump ship.
“You can count your fingers as much as you want to, Bash. It won’t change the fact that Aaron Bradford would sooner gut himself like a fish before he sold out any of his kids,” Karl snaps back, clenching his jaw as his ears redden.
Rowan stills. “Karl has a point. At no point in time has Aaron given any cause for suspicion.”
“That could make him the perfect Judas,” I offer, and August snorts. “What, you don’t think it’s possible?”
“You all need to be more rational. I’m usually the one with wild accusations,” Rowan states, finally giving up his pacing and sitting down.
I grimace. There’s nothing rational about anything that’s happened in the last year. Maybe not even in the last few centuries. If someone were to examine how and why the Fraternitas was established, they’d think it was out of some conspiracy-theory-suspense novel.
“It’s perfectly reasonable to believe the Council could conspire with the enemy. They could easily think it’s the best way to continue to keep power,” Sebastian suggests.
Before anyone can respond, Matthieu appears on screen, entering the room and greeting Senator Baker and his guests. “Senator. It’s good to have you back.” He pauses, swiveling his head. “And with guests this time.”
Stepping forward, Rowan’s father extends his hand. “Matthieu. It’s been a long time.”
“Donald.” Matthieu nods, doing the same. “Always a pleasure.”
They shake hands before someone lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Can we get on with this shit? I came here to fuck and kill, not sit around,” Brian shouts, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.
“What the hell do you mean kill?”
Isabella. The president’s daughter wasn’t entirely in the loop. Her crystal-blue eyes, ringed with gray, stand out against her porcelain skin and wavy raven hair that falls past her shoulders. Matthieu’s gaze is fixed on her, but she looks everywhere but at him. His jaw momentarily clenches before his features smooth out. The calm exterior that he’s known for carefully sliding back into place.
Senator Baker’s nostrils flare at his outburst. “Please forgive Mr. Porter. He seems to have left his manners at home this evening.” Brian’s face reddens at the apparent slight.
“Trouble in paradise,” August snorts, and I hum in agreement. This night just got a little more interesting.
“It appears so. We might be able to use that to our advantage,” I murmur.
Matthieu strides toward the bar before he speaks. “Tonight, you will all experience the highest heights one can attain through pleasure and pain.” He turns, extending his arm toward the doorway as Henri and Am?lie enter.
“Fuck. He’s gorgeous,” Samantha groans. Her eyes trail over Henri’s tall, broad frame with lust, and he smirks. Samantha squirms in her seat, pressing her legs together.
“Isn’t that the woman from the Chosen ceremony?” Rowan questions, shifting my attention to Am?lie. She looks about the same height, but that’s where all the similarities end.
I shake my head. “Didn’t she have black hair and blue eyes? Plus, her facial structure is different.”
Leaning, Rowan studies Am?lie. “There’s something about the smile, but I guess you’re right.”
Once they both reach the front, Matthieu continues, “The rules are simple-there are none. You have full reign of the facilities. The game will begin in fifteen minutes, and your targets for the night will be released.” He takes a final look at Isabella before he says, “Happy hunting,” and exits the room.
“What did the fuckwit mean by kill?” Isabella demands, storming over to stand in front of Senator Baker.
An oily, slimy grin, eerily similar to his half-sister’s, appears on the Senator’s face. “He means, dear, sweet Bella,” he lifts a knuckle to her face, but she steps back, only making the Senator chuckle. “He means tonight we’ll be hunting and fucking whomever we catch, and after we’re satisfied, we can do whatever our heart’s desire to them.”
“I didn’t sign up to kill anyone, Matthew. Let me the fuck out of here,” Isabella sneers.
Throwing her head back, Samantha laughs. “Of course, you’d be too freaking soft for this shit. I told you not to invite her, Matthew. You should’ve listened.” Her gaze lands on Aaron. “Much like your daughter-too fucking soft.”
Aaron’s eye twitches, barely enough to be noticeable, but he remains silent. It’s Rowan’s father who speaks, “Is this why you invited us here?”
“I was hoping we could come to some sort of agreement, seeing as how we have you by the proverbial, and after tonight, maybe literal, balls,” Senator Baker singsongs.
My face scrunches in disgust. “Stupid, arrogant fucker.”
Donald’s eyes glint with amusement. “Is that so?” Senator Baker’s smile falters. His earlier confidence slips. It’s apparent he’s not used to dealing with Donald Calloway-a lesson he’ll soon wish he’d learned before slinging threats. Rowan’s father peers up at the camera and says, “Devereux, we’re leaving.” The door slides open, and then each member of the Council exits, ignoring the demands of the Senator to stay.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.