Page 101 of Heartless Sinner

A modulator turned his voice into a mechanical rasp. “Either you walk with us or we drag you out.”

I tried to answer, but my throat locked up.

“I’d choose quickly,” he added. “We’re perfectly happy to drag you out.”

He released me, and stupid me immediately wanted his touch back.

Before I could take my first step, a Son slammed his shoulder into mine, knocking me to my knees. Rude.

Five creepy-ass skeleton masks stared down at me without a word.

I sucked it up and pushed myself back to my feet. The second I stood, someone grabbed me from behind while another Son blocked my way.

He was broader and stockier than Brooks and nowhere near as graceful. He pulled out a black blindfold.

Seconds later, everything went black.

They steered me into the hallway.

Dead fucking silent.

I tried to control my breaths while telling myself to stay calm.

Relax. Just relax.

Too bad I’d consumed enough caffeine to kill a small horse.

We went down a flight of stairs and into a cramped passage, my shoulder scraping rough stone as they led me through. I lost track of time before cold night air finally hit my face.

Next step. Next step. Remember the next step.

My mom’s and Blair’s Initiations had one thing in common.

And that was what came next.

The Hunt.

Twenty-Six

Daphne

Igave up counting our footsteps somewhere around one hundred.

I have bigger problems than math.

We finally stopped, and a hand slapped tape over my mouth.

Initiations weren’t only about proving our resilience. They were entertainment for a bunch of rich, psychotic men with too much power.

I raised my chin and squared my shoulders.

No panicking. No crying. No giving them a damn thing.

I’d have my mental breakdown when this was over.

The Sons could terrorize me, but they couldn’t kill me.

The only deaths in Fawn Initiation history had been suicides.