Page 11 of Tricked By Jack
He’s channelled all his energy into his wife and their daughter. I’m both happy for my brother and hating him at the same time. Being me is fucking complicated.
Nick pushes back from the table and stands, stretching slightly. “Coffee in the study? I want to show you the latest for Sanctuary of Shadows.”
“Sure,” I say, moving to hand Willow back to her mom. “Take your demonchild before she drools on my shirt.”
Carolina accepts her daughter with practiced ease. “Such a charmer. It’s a mystery why you’re still single.”
I stand, straightening my cuffs. “The greatest mystery of our time,” I deadpan.
Following Nick toward his study, I pause at the threshold and glance back at the domestic tableau. Carolina humming softly to her daughter, the remains of our family dinner scattered across fine china.
A perfect picture of Knight family prosperity. Stability. Legacy. All of it built on bloodied foundations none of us discuss. But I still feel the echo of screams no one ever acknowledged. This legacy doesn’t just hold us—it cages us.
My skin feels too tight suddenly, like I’m playing a part that no longer fits. Brother. Uncle. The good soldier. Each role is a carefully constructed mask, growing heavier by the day. But not for much longer. Soon, I won’t need to pretend that I’m okay.
Nick unfolds the blueprints across his desk with careful precision, his fingers tracing the perimeter of Governors Island like he’s measuring the boundary of a wound. I wonder what kind of infection we’ll unleash when we cut it open. How many people will beg for more after they bleed.
“The ferry terminal here,” he says, tapping the northern edge, “will be our main entry point. Eight-minute ride from Manhattan.”
I nod. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been on the grounds.”
Thanks to Nick’s pull as head of the family, he got Governors Island shut down from August through mid-November. It’s where Willow’s Foundation is hosting Sanctuary of Shadows—a month-long immersive Halloween experience. It’s theatrical, grotesque, and engineered to mess with people.
Sanctuary of Shadows, or S.O.S. as we’ve ironically started calling it, opens with a massive launch event on October first at 12:01 a.m.
Carolina has worked tirelessly with her team to get this done in just nine months. The ferry terminal will run twenty-four hours a day, and the two-hundred ticket holders per day can enter from midnight to midnight.
The only caveat is, once a guest leaves, they won’t be allowed to come back.
Nick drags his finger along a dotted line. “Once they’re off the ferry, guests funnel through this causeway. It’ll be lit by torches and jack-o’-lanterns. We’re going to completely disorient them.”
“Making them feel isolated,” I observe, and something hot and eager shifts beneath my ribs.
Nick continues mapping the layout. “We’ve got the masked staff—no speaking allowed, all communication through gestures or pre-recorded audio. The old military structures are perfect for the haunted zones.”
My pulse quickens at the mention of masked staff. Each detail of the Sanctuary feeds something darker in me, something patient and hungry that’s been waiting since Ruby’s funeral.
“Is the Slaughter Stage ready?” I tap a circular structure near the center of the island so he knows I mean this one specifically.
“Yes,” he confirms, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Everything’s set up for The Black Wedding.”
My fingers still against the paper, heat spreading through my palm at those three words. The Black Wedding. The name alone sends electricity down my spine. “I’m ready, too.”
I’ve been ready since the moment they closed Ruby’s casket. I don’t want a wedding—I want a fucking reckoning.
Nick looks at me as he straightens and lets out a heavy sigh. “Are you sure about this, Jack?” His tone is weary, and I’m pretty sure I detect a note of sadness. “It’s not too late to… let it go.” He scrunches up his nose at the last part.
“I can’t fucking let it go,” I snarl, clenching my hands into fists. “What is it you don’t get? Unlike you, I don’t have a fucking wife or perfect daughter to hide behind. I’m just me—”
“You have us,” he placates. “We’re your family. Don’t make me lose my brother on top of my sister.”
“That’s not fair,” I accuse, stabbing a finger in his direction. “Besides, you’ve already lost me once.” Even if my heart only stopped for a couple of measly minutes, it still counts.
Something crawled in when it restarted. I don’t know what it is, only that it doesn’t forgive. And it won’t let go until I have my revenge. Maybe then I can sleep through the entire fucking night without waking up bathed in sweat, seeing my sister’s lifeless eyes haunting me.
He slams his fist into the desk, making the wood creak, and all the shit on top of it rattles. “Jack!”
“Nick,” I parrot, not willing to let it go just because it’s more convenient for him. “I need to do this. Now, you can either support me or get the fuck out of my way. Either way, it’s happening.”
