Page 87 of Crush

This section of the catacombs is my father’s most preferred. In the shape of an octagon, each side showcases a stone statue of the skeletal remains of the figure resting behind it. Many of them are from the Winthorpe family, the first creators of this school. When lit properly, as the statues are now, each stone figure casts an overarching, flickering shadow to the center of the octagon, where an inlaid gold circle forged with the image of a flying raven and the Noble motto: altum volare in tenebris lies in the ground. We fly high in the dark.

No one speaks as Jaxon directs the freshmen to stand as an audience around the center and behind the seniors, juniors, and sophomores. I note a few older members standing in a compass formation in their red cloaks—the four viscounts. The overseers and accountants of the Nobility.

Spoiler alert: they don’t account for how much money is spent.

I tip my head at the closest one, his face obscured by the oversized hood, but I know who he is. Jaxon’s father.

Heavy footfalls turn every head, including mine, to the northern entrance. A dark purple cloak emerges. My father. He would never take the trapdoor entry like the rest of us. He has his own hidden passage only known to the king and queen of the Societies. I’m assured once I make it to king, I’ll become aware of all sorts of perks and atrocities protected by them. More than I do now.

Cloaked forms bow out of the way as Father doesn’t break stride into the octagon. Most can’t get out of his way fast enough, and Father gets an easy path to where I stand at the center.

He takes his place on the inlaid gold circle, reaching up to pull back his hood with intimidating aplomb until the entire room is silent.

“Welcome, members,” he booms, sweeping his gaze across every dark cloak, paying special attention to the ones in red. He doesn’t acknowledge his son by his side. “I apologize for the untimely request that you all attend this meeting. I’m afraid I was left with no choice. Our sisters, the Virtues, are unstable and breaking ranks, all due to a certain girl who was recruited this year despite her not being of proper age.”

My brows come down underneath my hood. Father’s the one who brought Ember here and demanded she be initiated. Yet he’s preaching as if he were personally insulted by the decisions of someone else.

“I’ve met with the dukes and duchesses of the Societies,” Father continues. These are the graduates of Winthorpe and the highest ranking of the Nobility outside the walls of Winthorpe. “We’ve come to the decision that this girl, Ember Weatherby, is under the unapproved protection of one of our own, despite her flagrant attempts to disrespect our peerage.”

The red cloaks mutter in agreement. The black ones copy their movements, bobbing their hoods and folding their arms, posturing for their king.

I frown.

Father’s heavy hand comes down on my shoulder. “She could expose us. I’m devastated to say it’s my own son that prevents us from moving forward. I’ve done what I can to force Ember to capitulate to her queen, but I’m beginning to have doubts that she can be so easily swayed. It’s also come to my attention that my son, my blood, holds evidence that could force her good behavior, yet he keeps it from me. From us.”

I swivel toward him, my cloak flapping at the sharp movement. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. Pushed her to her limits. Tested her strength and loyalty. Used her thoroughly.”

“Yet you come up with nothing for us to use against the Weatherbys.”

“You have his wife.” My shoulders come up. “Malcolm’s business. You’ve corrupted every section of Malcolm Weatherby’s soul and further corroded it by commanding he bring his daughter to Raven’s Bluff—”

Father’s hand whips out, digging under my chin. “Quiet, boy. You have no right to speak unless I give you leave to do so.”

The threat of the past few days comes under his fingers, pressing against the tender spots under my ears. His plans for the Weatherbys weren’t finished, he’d said, and my absence from school and from Ember was of utmost importance. After what he did to her at the swim meet, I took him seriously. I stayed away from her but made sure to keep her in my sights at a distance. No harm came to her during that time, except for this meeting.

A meeting where all Noble members from the academy and Father’s overseers are witnesses.

Shit.

I move to create distance between Father and me, but he grips my chin tighter. I shove his hand off instead. His eyes burn at my gall.

“You see?” He turns to the room. “Even now, my son rebels. When it comes to Ember Weatherby, he’s blind.” He motions to the closest red cloak, Jaxon’s father, who steps forward with something black and shining wrapped around his wrist. “It’s our job to ensure he sees again and gives over what is Noble property.”

Accepting the twined leather, Father turns to me. “It doesn’t please me to do this, son, so I will give you one more chance. What do you have that I can use against the Weatherbys? What are you keeping from me?”

I keep my shoulders level. “Nothing.”

“I gave you the weekend to collect what you needed from that girl. To break her forever. I’ve never known you to miss a deadline.”

The tail end of his voice holds a lethal tone. I’m well-versed in what happens to my body if I don’t meet his impossible goals. Too bad as the years go by, I’m taller, larger, younger, and more formidable than this man who thinks a purple cloak is all it will take to get me to bow.

“I did as you asked,” I say with all the drippings of a well-behaved son. “Unfortunately, you brought someone basic into our fold. She doesn’t have skeletons other than being sold in the black market when she was born. Good grades, studying toward a bright future, drug- and alcohol-free, and a virgin. I can’t do much with that other than corrupt her, which I am thoroughly in the midst of. Until I do, do you care to tell us who she was trafficked by?”

Father’s body goes rigid underneath his robes. “There are days when I am ashamed to have you as my only son, and today is one of those days.”

My hatred for the man burns bright, but the barb still stings.

He sneers, “Bringing up your sex life is actually well-timed, you fool. You have footage of the two of you, don’t you? The type of activities that will bring Malcolm into my debt fully and completely. He sees his innocent girl doing that with you, and I’ll have no doubt of my ownership over the Weatherbys. Give it to me.”

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