Page 20 of A Forbidden Arrangement
All three ofmy brothers wait at the entrance to the Vault, cloaked in black. Their hoods hang loose down their backs, shadows cutting hard across their faces.
The Everette family has ruled the Order of Saints for more than a century.
The Vault lies beneath the Everette Hotel. Aside from electricity, nothing has been touched. The stone carries the same cold weight it did the day it was carved.
The Order crossed from London in the 1800s and built these chambers to mirror what they had left behind.
Tradition laid the foundation. Tradition keeps it alive. And under us, the tradition will never fall.
“About time you showed up to one of these.” Bash leans against the stone wall.
“I’ve been busy.” I have, though really, I’ve been avoiding Boston. Too focused on my hunt. Ignoring the fact that I’ve been slacking as one of the Lords of the Order of Saints.
“Mhmm. Busy.” Bash’s look digs at me, and I grind my teeth to keep from knocking it off his face. He’s the only one of my brothers who knows the full extent of what I’ve been doing, and the one most likely to open his mouth about it.
I narrow my eyes and drive an elbow into his side. He grunts upon impact, but it turns into a soft chuckle.
Damon ignores us. As the eldest, he practically raised us. Bash and I brawling never fazed him. He studies my face, mouth twisting into a scowl. “Fuck, you look like shit.”
“That’s what I said,” Bash adds.
I drag a hand down my face. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got things to take care of.”
“Things…huh, things like finding your girl?” Matthias, the second eldest, throws me a knowing look and shares it with Damon. Assholes. They’ve already figured it out.
This is exactly why I’ve stayed away since that night with Dahlia. For all their power and menace, my brothers are the nosiest bastards alive.
“I told you he’s obsessed,” Bash says, cocky as ever.
“Fuck off.” I look away. “Like you were any better.”
“He’s got a point,” Damon mutters, still sizing me up. His verdict comes with a shake of his head. “So why do you look like you’ve been run over by a bus?”
My voice drops into a growl. “Because she fucking disappeared.”
Matthias lifts a brow. “You’ve been using the full force of the Order and still can’t find her?”
“Damn…that’s rough.”
My fist slams into Bash. His head whips back, and when he looks at me again, blood streaks the corner of his mouth. He smirks as he licks the blood from his lower lip.
“Feel better?”
“What do you think?” The hit helped, but it’s nowhere near enough.
“Let’s finish this, and then I’ll spar with you,” Damon says. “You need a clear head if you’re going to find her.”
He’s right. And I know full well Damon can beat the shit out of me, which might be exactly what I need. “Fine.”
Bash claps his hands, a grin spreading across his face. “Fuck yeah.”
Damon lowers his gold wolf mask to cover half his face, signaling that it’s time to go.
I pull my own mask into place and raise the hood of my cloak until darkness swallows me whole. The familiar weight settles over me, numbing my thoughts. Here, I’m untouchable, someone who doesn’t get questioned.
Being a Lord of the Order of Saints gives me leverage to run my businesses. But the ceremonies? Always dramatic as fuck.
Men in black robes form two solid lines along the aisle, silver masks catching the lantern light. The air shifts when Damon steps forward. The scrape of fabric follows, dozens of bodies bowing low in perfect rhythm.
