Page 4 of The Stallion
All members being initiated into the MUR were required to have a sponsor, a member who could validate their protégé's ability to be just as fucked up as everyone else in this brotherhood.
Being a sponsor meant taking full responsibility for your protégé in every way, especially if they failed their initiation tasks orbroke any rules under their watch. The penalty for both was the same: death at the hands of the one person who put all of their faith in you.
Due to my legacy status, and doubting that he would've wanted to kill his first and only son if I fucked up my tests, meant it wasn't a wise choice for my father to be my sponsor.
Even though I’m sure if I couldn’t make it to the ceremony, he would kill me regardless, just for disgracing the Ryan name.
His reputation was on the line just as much as mine.
Having a legacy within the MUR was extremely rare. Very few sons chose to follow their fathers’ path, and due to the sensitivity of the organization’s secrets, those who did were required to join a revue and take their tests at the age of twenty-one or face the repercussions—the same fate as failing.
My father wanted me to be fully prepared physically and mentally for my new future, so I spent my training time learning the ins and outs of the MUR and how to take down my targets with little to no hesitation.
With my twenty-first birthday behind me, my time had officially come.
It was do or die at this point—literally.
Volunteering himself to be my sponsor, Alec picked me up in his black Cadillac Escalade.
He was always more mature in his apparel choices, with the sleeves of his black blazer rolled up to his elbows, while I preferred to be much more casual in appearance, throwing on my favoritedenim jacket. I assume age played a huge role in our wardrobe choices, with Alec pushing forty-five, just like my father.
It was nearly ten at night when we left my parents’ house. No one was allowed at Dustin Slate’s mansion before sunset unless he summoned them himself.
The reason? Who fucking knows.
I constantly made the joke that he was a vampire with all of his late-night bullshit, and the MUR was just some front to cover up his true identity.
Neither my father nor Alec found my comparison amusing…Whatever.
As we pulled up to his mansion, I gaped in awe at the luxurious residence surrounded by an even more impressive landscape.
The mansion was bright white, with extravagant pillars framing the front entrance and floor-to-ceiling windows on the main and second floors. Ornamental crown molding was everywhere, and lush green vines crept up the sides of the home, accenting every ledge.
It was difficult to tell because of how dark it was, but I could only assume that the grass was fake—astroturf or something similar—and more than likely, a good eighty percent of the plants were too, judging by the fact that we were in the middle of the Nevada desert.
There was no fucking way this garden was real and this green at the same time. The entire state was in the middle of a drought, unless his mansion was the cause of it—a likelypossibility.
Turning up the circle driveway, I continued to admire the exterior details as we rounded the massive center fountain, which glowed a bright white before suddenly turning blue as Alec parked us in front of the grand entrance.
“That’s our welcome lighting.”
“Our what?”We hadn’t even exited the car. How did they know who we were?
“All the MUR member vehicles are tagged with a device that Dustin can monitor—and before you get carried away with your exaggerated assumptions, it's not a tracking GPS. It's simply so he can determine if the vehicles arriving at his home are permitted to do so.”
Fair enough.
“Get your ass out of the car, and remember, once we cross that threshold, you keep that mouth of yours shut.” Alec’s stern voice reeled me back from my thoughts as I squared my shoulders and exited his SUV without saying anything. “You know what to do tonight. Do it well and without hesitation, just as your father taught you.”
This was it.
My fucking moment to shine.
IfollowedAleccloselyas we made our way inside. Just as we’d stopped in the grand foyer, a middle-aged gentleman wearinga black suit and tie with white gloves silently greeted us, holding out a silver tray with two identical masks.
He gestured curtly, and we took the masks that were presented on the tray. Alec sighed heavily while mumbling something under his breath that I couldn’t fully understand as he pulled his on.
The masks were glossy black, with neon blue tubing crossing the eyes and mouth. They were made of a thin, cheap plastic, similar to what you’d expect at a pop-up Halloween store.
