Page 69 of My Forever Sin

More of those cloaked people are standing in a circle around us. I can’t see Heath, but I know he’s somewhere among them. So is Dorrian and Vivian.

“Ritual?” Jordie gulps, her head lifting slightly off the floor as she tries to get her bearings.

One of the hooded figures breaks the circle and starts walking slowly in our direction, like he’s got all the time in the world and I’m not thinking about breaking out of my restraints to kill every one of these fuckers. He reveals a cauldron of sorts in the middle of the circle with smoke billowing out and embers floating around it.

Another figure walks towards it, holding what looks like a metal rod, and hovers it inside the cauldron where it hisses and steam shoots out followed by red sparks.

Jordie gasps.

Shadows enter my vision when someone walks towards her before stopping right next to her. She stiffens, breath trembling while my own lungs fail to bring in oxygen.

“Father?” I call. Not a single person shifts.

“We’re here, don’t worry. We’ll be watching your ceremony closely.” Vivian’s voice projects from the shadows settled behind the circle. It’s like the red light makes a perfect ring, not a glow out of line.

Jordie is pulled to her feet and dragged to the middle of the circle by the cauldron. Another figure knocks a stick into the back of her knees, making her drop to the ground with a quiet whimper.

My muscles seize and tremble as I attempt to get free. “Leave her alone!” I bellow. I don’t know what the fuck is going on right now, but I need to stop this somehow.

The rod emerges from the open fire, a bright red stamp glowing at the end of it and my heart sinks into my stomach.

“Let me go,” I shout, straining to lift my head against the hand holding me down.

It’s silent aside from the low hum. So quiet while everyone watches and no one attempts to help or move.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jordie’s voice is stern as the figure with the rod approaches her. I can see her back rising and falling rapidly, the sounds of her breathing cutting through the drone of the hum.

I jerk and a black gloved hand leaves my head and lands in front of my eyes, blocking my view of Jordie. I look to the person holding me down but he stares at me through the black opening of his hood—I can’t see his face at all, but the stare is so intense, it prickles on the back of my neck—and shakes his head once as if to say stay put.

How can I stay put when they’re about to fucking brand her, put their disgusting mark on her like they have some sort of ownership.

I jerk, almost succeeding in knocking the prick off me, but a knee digs into my shoulder blades and another set of hands holds my ankles down.

“Clergy,” Heath begins as I continue to struggle in their grips. “These two heathens—not only did they disrespect sacred ground—they brought shame on the Westbrook name. They tainted our church and our beliefs. And for that, they must atone for their sins. They’ve betrayed us on several occasions, and their time has finally come.”

Jordan’s hair is pushed to the side, revealing her unmarked back. She struggles in the hold two other figures have on her, the ones forcing her to stay kneeling—she’s no longer crying but fighting to get out.

Yes, little devil, keep fighting them. Keep that fire lit.

More weight pushes on top of me as I grunt and attempt to roll onto my back.

The hum intensifies as the figure with the glowing rod approaches her. The person holding me down squeezes my shoulder, almost in a reassuring way. But there’s nothing reassuring about what happens next—Jordan’s raspy, painful scream booms through the walls in the room. My captor presses down on my shoulder, silently instructing me to stay right where I am.

Something is familiar about them.

“Fuuuuck,” Jordan screams and every crevice in my stomach twists, fists clench wanting nothing more than to rush over and rip everyone’s fucking head off.

“You fucking leave her alone!” I yell as he presses the rod in harder, forcing Jordie to her hands. My captor squeezes my shoulder again.

Vivian’s delightful laugh breaches Jordie’s wail. Her desperate gasps replace her screams, and the figure moves out of view, revealing a white symbol of three circles entwined with each other, the skin around it an angry red.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

The family crest. Only more sinister with the cross upside down and two horns poking out either side of the two bottom circles.

Jordan’s body violently shakes as the two figures let her go and she slumps to the carpet, whimpering, spit sucking in through her gritted teeth.

I’m helpless, powerless to do anything at this moment.