Page 37 of Love to Defy You
A dark expression crosses Alek’s face, and he turns away to stare out the window once again. “Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
And just like that, he withdraws into himself yet again.
When our lunch arrives, we don’t speak during the meal, so we finish our food quickly and pay our bill. We head upstairs to our apartment, but when he opens the door, he freezes on the threshold. It’s so abrupt that I bump into him.
“What is it?” I stand on my tiptoes and peer over his shoulder.
On the rug in the foyer is a black envelope with gold calligraphy, similar to the one he received the first day of classes.
I step around him and pick it up off the floor. “It’s addressed to both of us.”
“What?” His sharp voice cuts through the silent apartment, and he snatches the envelope out of my hand. “No. Goddammit, no!” He turns around and slams the door shut, then checks the lock.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
He marches into the kitchen, and I follow closely behind. Alek grabs a knife from the cutting block and slides it under the flap of the envelope to break the seal to rip the invitation out. The envelope falls on the floor.
I pick it up and examine the golden wax seal. It’s imprinted with that same symbol on Mikhail’s forearm—the lyre in a circle with an arrow piercing it.
Alek scans the invitation, his eyes darting back and forth across the page. “Dammit!” His face twists with fury, and he slams the invitation facedown on the counter.
Since the invitation is also addressed to me, I don’t hesitate to pick it up and read it. “The Feast of Apollo?”
“It feels like a trap.” Alek begins to pace the kitchen.
“It says it’s a formal dinner.” I turn the invitation over and check the back for more details, but it’s blank. It gives an off-campus address, so I do a quick map search on my phone. “Looks like it’s at a private mansion outside Zurich.”
“There’s no way I’m bringing you with me.” Alek pulls his phone out of his coat pocket. “I’m going to kill Mikhail.”
“Why?” I grab his wrist to catch his attention. “Does this have to do with the tattoo on his arm?”
“He’s part of it.” He wrestles out of my grasp and sets his phone on the counter. “He knows what the trials are because he’s been through it before.”
“Wait, does that mean he was there when you got beat up? And he didn’t stop it?”
He shakes his head. “He can’t intervene. Not unless...”
When he doesn’t elaborate, I probe him. “Unless what?”
Alek lifts his chin to meet my gaze, and an expression crosses his face I’ve only seen once before—when he warned me about his father.Fear.“This organization is dangerous.”
“Okay, then we won’t go.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have a choice. You, on the other hand, do not need to get dragged into this.”
“Hey, look at me.” I reach for his face and cup his cheeks. “You promised to let me in on this hazing stuff. Something happened at the last ritual, didn’t it? Something that scared you.”
“It’s safer if you don’t know—“
“I don’t care. Tell me.”
He holds my gaze for a moment, then drops his hands to his sides. When he exhales, his shoulders slump. “They… murdered someone.”
“What?” I’m not sure I heard that right, and I release his face to step back.
“Yeah.” He slumps into one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. “Slit his throat for refusing to participate.”
I blink. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
