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My eyes meet Matilda’s as she smiles in pure satisfaction. “Now that you’ve committed the crime, against your own people, might I add, it’s time to break you.”
“I think I’m broken enough, thanks,” I snap, venom dripping from my tone.
“Not quite.” She chuckles. She steps down from where she stands, coming behind me,her hands resting on my shoulders as she peeks behind me. I fight the urge to shake off her touch. To contain the tremble. She is already winning but I won’t feed into it.
A video screen rolls down at the front of the room, the lights dimming as the film rolls. It is Branson tangled with another body. I want to laugh; it’s not like I don’t already know he’s had many lovers before. His glistening back shifts and I freeze as strawberry hair is swept back to reveal her glittering gray eyes.
Matilda moans, her eyes closing as her face breaks out in pure ecstasy.
I feel theheartbreak, the tight ache in my chest knot, the churning in my stomach. I don’t feel the slow trickle of tears until a manicured hand swipes one from behind me. I turn my face, closing my eyes. I can’t watch this. Did he do this while we were together? Maybe before? But if he knew this whole time that I was to be his… then why did he sleep with the siren that conceived me?
A hand cups my chin, nails squeezing into my cheeks as she forces my face back to the screen. “Watch,” she whispers, her voice dripping in sugar so sweet you’d get a toothache.
My eyes open, watching as Branson takes her slow, caressing every soft inch of her body. How he worships every dip and curve of her body with sweet kisses as he makes love to her, not fucking her as he had done me. Not even for my first time had he treated my body with such tenderness.
“What the fuck, Matilda?” Branson snaps, but I don’t look at him. Not in person anyway, but rather the way he gently touches my mother in the video.
“That’s what it looks like to be loved by Branson Lexington. Oh, sweet child, don’t cry. You had no chance against him,” she coos, petting my hair in comfort. “Now, pledge your loyalty and everything you’ve ever wanted will be at your fingertips.”
I feel sick to my stomach. I had just been with him last night as he worshiped my body, as if it was something he had to possess, as he told me over and over again how much he loved me. I may have never received love, but if this is what it felt like, they could take that shit with them. I don’t want it. The ache in my chest as my heart breaks, the way my body wants to collapse to the floor and disappear into it, the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. Yeah, love can go fuck itself.
I look up to the screen that has now switched to a live feed of Jordan putting away tiny pink socks in a drawer as she smiles down happily at her bump.
I swallow, my eyes darting around until they hit Raiden. I have no clue why I seek comfort from him, but as he slightly nods his head, I let out a breath.
“Okay.”
Matilda claps, walking toward the door. I look to Rowan, his jaw is tight, eyes simmering with anger. I have a suspicion it’s not at his wife or even Branson for that matter. Maybe he is mad for me? His jaw ticks, eyes soft, as he gently places my hand in the crook of his arm. Tucker and Raiden flank either side of us as a united front. Even Tori, who had been quiet, walks behind me, a dip to her head as she parts ways from us.
We enter the cave, today’s figures in deep red robes stand behind the altar. The hoods only reflect darkness as if no being lies beneath them. The cave lights are turned off, only fire lanterns illuminatingthe space around us. I study the clay statues of the gods and deities. My grandfather's words click into place. Edmund, his “culture”, the sacrifices. He was the founder of The Children of Nobility. He…
My thoughts break off when a man, in a blue dress shirt and khaki slacks, walks into the cave. A look of pure bliss shining on his face as he gazes at the altar.
The altar bares carvings of the Egyptians in the white stone. The man smiles as he walks up the steps, kissing the stone and wrapping his arms around it. “It is a great honor to be a sacrifice. May you find me worthy of the afterlife, may I find my eternal resting place among you.”
Something cold like dread washes through me for this man who is so willing to give up his life for a religion someone had made up in his madness. The man lays down, a red robed figurestrapping his body in thick, leather bounds. The man begins to chant in the ancient language that Branson spoke at the club, everyone joining in with him. I look around, my castmates’ and their parents' heads are thrown back, eyes closed. The chant starts low and begins to rise with the goosebumps on my skin, an eerie, sick feeling wrapping itself around me.
Movement at the altar catches my attention. The figure in the robe raises a dagger above his head, plunging it into the man's head. I scream, but the chanting never stops. If anything, it rises loud enough to drown out my screams. I take a step forward, as if to stop the man from being slashed by the knife positioned at his throat. His body is limp on the altar, blood dripping onto the statue beneath. A hand grabs mine, pulling me back into the group. I look up to see Branson, and my hand jerks back from his, my mouth curling in disgust. I move forward again, buthands wrap around my waist, pulling me back into a hard chest.
“You can't do anything about it,” Branson whispers harshly in my ear.
I try to headbutt him but he moves his head away smoothly, avoiding my attack. He holds me to him as the man's throat is being slashed ear to ear and he bleeds out, the blood finding a home on the rest of the statues. My mind snaps and I sink into Branson as a tear leaks from my eye, and I stare blankly at the man laid out as an offering before me. I blink, trying to rid the picture from my mind. The chanting around me slowly fades as I focus on the statue of Horus.
There was something so fucked about my life. How it started and where it was going. My will never truly being my own. My life is a power play for those who brought me into it. I never had a choice, not really. I worked my whole life to not allow the trauma to break me, the darkness to consume me. But I feel it now, wrapping a warm blanket around my soul, coaxing me to let it in. Let it make me forget.
The arms around me feel warm and inviting. He was the villain in my story, but with him… I always felt so safe. And I’m done being weak, played as the fool. Shaking my head, I extract myself from safety, choosing the chaos around me instead. I stand next to Raiden, face blank as I stare at Matilda, who is pouring a mixture into a cup. She slices her hand, squeezing it until a few drops of blood falls into the goblet. It is passed to the red robes and they repeat the action until every single member in the cave has contributed their blood to the goblet in my hand.
“Repeat after me, Rayne Everlynn Prescott…” And I do, my mind on autopilot. My tongue tripping over the old language.
“Now you will drink and officially be pledged in.” Her smile is wicked as the first drop touches my tongue. Copper mixed with ingredients I can’t differentiate. Tipping my head back, I swallow it whole, forcing it down my throat. I lower the goblet, and my head begins to swim. Something is dripping from my nose, so I swipe it. The back of my hand is coated in fresh blood. Forcing my eyes back to Matilda, my legs wobble.
“What did you do to me?” She smiles as my vision blurs.
“Welcome to The Children of Nobility,” she says, right before my eyes roll back and I land into safe arms.
Chapter 24
@RaynePrescott: “Storms tend to bring new life, no matter how destructive they are.”
