Page 31 of Save Me
My gut is a tangle of snakes, coiling tighter with every shifty glance from the crowd of Syndicate members. They watch me with eyes that don’t blink enough, sizing me up, wondering who I am, or if I’m worthy, or maybe just waiting to see me break.
Adam stops at the centre of the room. I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and prepare to meet whatever comes next head-on.
Aaron stands before me. He’s got a look on his face, one that says he’s already seen the endgame while we’re still moving our pawns.
“Vogue Jameson,” he starts, his voice commanding the room like it’s second nature, “you stand here at the crossroads of legacy and destiny.”
Oh?
I raise an eyebrow at him, and he smiles, slow and sinister, and tells me all I need to know. He’s forcing my hand. I’m either in or out, but out means not getting out of here alive.
I swallow hard, taking in the gravity of his words and the weight they carry. The air is thick with expectation, every pair of eyes fixed on me, dissecting my every move.
“Tonight, you will partake in the rite that has bound our bloodline to The Crowned Syndicate’s cause since its inception.” His gaze never wavers from mine when he sees me not making a run for it.
I nod. My voice is somewhere lost between my racing heart and the tightness in my throat.
“Understand, this is not merely a tradition,” he continues, circling around the unspoken truth like a shark. “It’s a covenant that will mark you as my true successor. But it comes at a cost, one that will demand the surrender of comforts you might hold dear.”
A bitter laugh threatens to escape me. Comforts? As if I’ve been cradled in silk all my life. But I bite it back, keeping my face a mask.
“Your role will require sacrifices, Vogue. Are you prepared to accept them?” His eyes search mine for a conviction I’m scrambling to muster.
“Prepared?” It’s a question more than an answer. I want what he’s offering, the power, the control. But I didn’t expect to be thrust onto this path without a chance to breathe, to choose.
“Life doesn’t wait for us to be ready,” he says, almost gentle now. “It takes us by the throat, and we follow where it leads.”
Those words close around me, leaving no room for doubt or debate. This is happening, whether I’m ready or not.
“Let’s begin,” he announces without me saying a word.
The room shrinks as I step forward, the circle of Syndicate members tightens like a noose.
“Vogue McGowan,” my father’s voice echoes through the hall, “approach.”
McGowan now. Not even Jameson McGowan, just dropped my mother’s name altogether.
I move, each step deliberate, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes tracking my every motion. There’s a makeshift altar at the front, adorned with symbols I don’t understand, but the meaning is clear enough—it’s about power, legacy, blood.
“Place your hand upon the crest,” Aaron commands, gesturing to the cold metal emblem placed on the wood.
My fingers graze over intricate patterns, the sharp edges biting into my palm, pressing down harder until I feel the sting of broken skin. A drop of blood wells up, crimson against the silver.
“Your blood,” Aaron says, “seals the bond between you and the Syndicate. As it mingles with the crest, so too will your life become entwined with our cause.”
A shudder runs through me, but my face remains impassive. The cut on my hand throbs, a small sacrifice compared to the ones I’m sure will follow.
“Repeat after me,” he instructs, voice steady as a drumbeat, “I, Vogue McGowan, do solemnly swear my allegiance to The Crowned Syndicate.”
“I, Vogue McGowan, do solemnly swear my allegiance to The Crowned Syndicate,” I echo. My voice doesn’t waver.
“From this day until my last,” Aaron continues, locking his gaze with mine as if he could force the truth out of me.
“From this day until my last,” I repeat. A silent promise to myself that I’ll play this game, but on my terms.
“To uphold our laws and secrets,” he says.
“To uphold our laws and secrets.”
