Page 10 of Heartless Lord
Parker bowed forward, his body threatening to fold in on itself.
“Can all of you repeat our oath?” The Domnus asked, standing erect.
The ten of us recited the words drilled into our heads since we were first led through these catacombs.
“Our blood is from one cup. Our bones are from one beast. Our soul is from the same shadow. Brothers above all. We enter this world together. And we shall only leave with a dagger pressed against our throat and the serpent’s poison in our veins.”
“Perfect.” The Domnus’s gaze fell on me as shadows darkened the brown orbs to impenetrable holes. “Neophyte Killian, on your feet. I have your last trial.”
Bass jerked me up and shoved me toward the Domnus as acid churned my gut. I knew exactly what I’d have to face. My stepbrother sawed through the ropes on my wrists, freeing me, and then he slapped a dagger into my palm.
It seemed like everyone knew. Except for Parker.
“Do you understand your task, Neophyte?”
My fingers curled around the hilt, and I nodded. I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Any weakness or refusal on my part, and I’d suffer the same fate as Parker. “I understand.” As I turned to the disgraced Neophyte, confusion and fear swirled in his eyes.
He shook his head, and the blood drained from his cheeks as the realization finally hit him. “N-No. Let me try again. I swear, I can do it. Just give me another chance!”
Bass and another masked brother lifted Parker from the ground, holding him as he struggled. I allowed the monster within me to harden my resolve. This would be the first time I actively stole a life, but it wouldn’t be the last in a world like this.
Cruelty ruled here, barely hidden by the cloak of money and sophistication. It was a world I stumbled into when my mother met Stan. And now that I’d had a taste, nothing would rip me from it.
“You should have listened to the oath you swore. Then you would have seen this coming.” I lifted the knife and yanked it across Parker’s neck. Hot blood spurted out, spraying my face and spilling down his chest as he choked.
My stomach heaved while the life drained from him, but the darkness brewing inside me since I was a kid kept me strong amid these masked devils. I’d become ruthless and cold, my focus on the prize. Never would I let another person tear me apart.
Now I was one of them, a wolf among the sheep. And the world was at my fingertips.
CHAPTER 3
THE PERFECT SON
Killian
Make me proud.Those three little words from my stepfather held much more weight than their simple meaning implied.Don’t fuck up. Don’t sully my last name. Don’t disappoint me.
And don’t make me regret opening my home.
The pressure from years of emulating perfection squeezed my chest in a death grip until my ribs threatened to splinter. I’d done everything in my power to become one of the elite, to fit in with the upper echelon of society so that this new life didn’t slip through my fingers like fine sand.
I typed a respectful reply to his text and tossed my phone onto my bed, the screen bouncing against the oversized tufted leather headboard. The morning sun streaming in through the arched windows turned the glossy hardwoods blinding and warmed the ominous gothic mansion.
The opulent decor, mahogany furnishings, elaborate ironwork, impeccable wood carvings, and stained glass weren’tfound in your average fraternity house. Then again, Sigma Delta wasn’t your average fraternity.
Not every frat brother was chosen, but those who were, and who passed the initiation, became some of the most powerful men in this country.
Some called us gods among men.
But most just called us Lords.
I ran my thumb over the intricate tattoo of a serpent coiled around a dagger on my inner forearm. A humorless smile tugged at my lips. These historic walls held dangerous secrets we would take to our graves.
And if we didn’t, we’d find ourselves staring up at the sky from a hole six feet in the ground, dirt piled on top of us by our own brothers.
The floorboards creaked as I crossed the large room to my dresser, avoiding the mess that had already started to creep to my side from my roommate’s. Axel Vanderhart had a habit of leaving his dirty clothes and football shit everywhere. A grass-stained practice jersey draped the back of his desk chair, and a mouthguard hung from the lampshade on his nightstand.
He was my best friend, but when the fucker left disgusting, sweaty gym clothes on the ground that smelled like ass, I wanted to deck him. Our room didn’t need to carry the stench of a locker room just because he played football for Stonewall University.
