Page 89 of Broken Discipline
“What if someone notices that I’m a woman?” I asked. “Are there any female members in the Syndicate?”
Zira’s bottom lip dropped open, annoyed that I would ask a question like that.
“Once I’m on the board, that won’t be a question,” she said.
That meant I was right; there were no female members in the Marked Blooms Syndicate now. And as far as I knew, Zira was still an initiate, not an official member.
But I had to take a chance. I needed to save Finn.
“So that’s the plan, gorgeous. Take it or leave it. But don’t mistake this gesture for kindness. I’m not on your side, and I honestly don’t care if you or your husband live or die.” She winked. “But I hope you win. My husband deserves that extra spot on the board sooner, rather than later.”
Fire burned in my chest. I didn’t need Zira’s kindness; I needed to get into the Masquerade. And if that meant doing Zira’s way, then that’s what I would do.
“I’m in,” I said.
“Fantastic. Tomorrow night, then. Nine p.m. Don’t follow the others into the banquet hall; come straight to the front door where you knocked just now.” She motioned toward the road. “And come up with a good plan for murdering Upchurch. I want a show.”
The white flowers in the trees glittered like lanterns. A weakness fell over my body, my knees shaking. I hadn’t expected to get entry to the Masquerade this easily, but I was so damn glad.
But now I had to figure out how I was going to kill Upchurch.
“Where do I get a gun?” I asked.
Zira laughed, then walked back toward the estate. “You’ll figure it out.”
CHAPTER 22
Ramona
I quickly got out of my car, adjusting the thin straps of my dress. The Bloom Estate beamed in the distance, like a light at the end of the tunnel, calling to me. The white beaded dress glowed in the darkness as if a spotlight was cast directly on me. I patted both of my thighs, checking my holsters. A gun and a knife. After searching the Carter Compound and the penthouse, I was both annoyed, and pleased, that Finn kept his weapons extremely secure, likely as a safety measure for the twins. But eventually, I found a gun hidden in what must have been a bunker, and a knife in the nightstand.
I pulled the firm, double-sided white mask over my head, then latched it into place at the bottom of my chin. Gold waves sparkled on the edges of the front facial portion, while a glittery dome covered the back. The tiny slits for my eyes cut out half of my vision, but with this mask, I could tuck in my hair, and no one could see who I was. Strappy high heels weaved around my calves, the laces pinching my skin as I walked up the driveway. In the glamorous outfit and mask, I looked like a goddess. And Ihadto act that way. I had to pretend like I had never been sacrificed repeatedly during these events. I had to fake like I belonged on the top, punishing everyone who existed below me.
I had to pretend to be a future member.
Right as I went to knock, Zira opened the door, a white mask covering her eyes, her hair in an elaborate updo that made her appear effortlessly regal. Her silver heels clicked forward.
“Follow me,” she said.
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as we settled into a golf cart, riding off of the main path, through the grass, between the trees, past the ponds. A mild, fertile odor drifted in from the darkness, and I held my breath.
They won’t kill Finn that quickly,I told myself.Torturing a corpse isn’t entertaining. They have to keep him alive, at least for a little while.I internally pleaded that they were all sadistic bastards like that.
Light illuminated a large building with long columns holding up the roof. The windowed walls were different from what I remembered; now, they were shrouded in velvet curtains. My fingertips danced nervously on my thighs, and Zira parked the golf cart at the side entrance.
“Once we’re inside, you’re on your own,” she said.
She opened the door and immediately found another member dressed in white, and I focused myself, turning my sliver of vision down the corridor. There was an electrical charge running through me, the atmosphere pushing me forward, the sadistic anticipation ripe in the air.
I stayed on the edge, near the wall, scanning through that shred of vision for Upchurch’s white hair, but he wasn’t in the corridor. I shifted to the ballroom, scrutinizing as best as I could, but it was filled with a crowd of men dressed in black and white, all the women in bright colors. Upchurch wasn’t there either. But my eyes locked on a stream of suited men and naked women disappearing down a different corridor. My stomach dropped. I knew what was back there.
And so, I followed them.
Rooms lined the corridor, each one glowing in different hues: yellow, red, blue, purple, teal. A steady current of hushed conversations fluttered down the hallway, the noise buzzing against my skin. I stood outside of the first room, peering through the crowd. A woman hung from the ceiling, long metal cuffs digging into her ankles, a canvas hood tied over her face, a necklace dangling from her neck. Blood dripped from a shallow cut on her stomach into a basin below, as a man in a black mask pressed his calloused hands between her legs.
I bit my tongue; I couldn’t put myself in her position. But bile burned in the back of my throat, and I swallowed it back down, leaning on the wall for balance. Her cut was a surface wound. I had survived worse; the woman would survive too.
A man in a black mask stopped in his tracks, his eyes focused on me.
