The group enters the clearing and creates a semi-circle around us. Mrs. Emerson watches from a distance, clearly waiting for something. Or someone.
I squeeze the shit out of June’s hand, and she grunts but doesn’t pull away. In fact, she returns the gesture. Brenda stays close to me, pressing her side to mine, lending me her body heat.
The wind chooses that moment to stir, creating gooseflesh on my skin. I shiver from both the cold, the damp grass under my bare feet, and the gazes of the men staring at me. Their eyes, the only visible feature, glint with intensity.
And hunger.
Even though I’m mentally one scream away from a padded room, I hold my ground and lift my chin. Fuck these guys.
And Ben, if he’s willing to participate in this type of thing.
I scan the men, searching for anyone similar in build and height to my foster brother. There are nine of them, and three could be him based on hair color.
“Ah, fuck,” a recruit mutters.
My ears perk up. I recognize that voice. I know that “fuck.”
I hone in on the speaker, narrowing my gaze as if I can see through his mask, the one that has a black patch over the left eye. It has to be Ben. Adrenaline combines with betrayal in some fucked-up cocktail streaming through my blood.
Right when I’m about to walk over to him, another figure appears. This one is different from the rest. He has a mask on,but it’s pure black. There’s also a black cloak covering him from head to foot, concealing his imposing frame.
Every member of the fraternity looks in his direction. And by fraternity, I mean a fucking cult.
There's an aura of power to this man that has chills running down the back of my neck. The recruits keep their focus on him, their gazes never straying. He comes to stand in the gap between us and the younger men, and gestures for us to kneel.
I stiffen in disdain, but June yanks on my arm, pulling me down. The grass beneath me is cool and slightly damp, the moisture clinging to my skirt. I dig my nails into the dirt to keep silent, and to stop myself from flipping this guy off.
“Mors solum initium,” he says.
Every recruit repeats the phrase, their voices becoming one sound. It’s melodic, a deep baritone that echoes through the clearing. I know it’s Latin, but I have no clue what it means. Or if I even want to know.
The man clasps his hands behind his back. “You will be ranked according to skill and execution. Not only tonight, but in the upcoming Trials and every area the council deems worthy. The top three recruits will automatically be selected as crows and given first choice in assignments. These brides are my gift to you.”
He points in our direction. I glare up at him, not bothering to hide my irritation until June sways into me. I’m quick to steady her. We exchange a glance, and her eyes beg me to stay quiet.
“Let there be no misconceptions,” he continues. “A bride will never be a crow’s wife. But she can be a recruit’s prize. She represents your standing within the ranks, as well as the victories you’ve earned through prowess, cunning, and strength. Howsheacts is a reflection of you. This arrangement is temporary but highly indicative of how you will utilize power once you’ve been given a taste. And this, gentlemen…”
He leans down and snatches my upper arm, yanking me to my feet. “This type of power is only the beginning.”
When I rear back, he tightens his hold, his fingers digging into lace and skin. I suck in a breath at the pain and the scent of his cologne fills my nose. It’s expensive, soothing to the senses, yet crisp with a hint of smoke.
“What if we get out of our contract?” I ask through clenched teeth. “Will you leave us alone?”
He laughs, the sound like poison in my veins, making me ill. “I might be a man without morals, but I do have a code of justice.Ifyou can break the tree line, you will walk away from this, sworn to secrecy for the rest of your life. Or it’ll be forfeit.”
“I’d rather be sworn to secrecy than to a year of servitude.”
“This one,” he says, shaking me, “is going to be fun to break, recruits.”
“Ifthey fucking catch me,” I snap, raising my voice for everyone to hear.
He yanks me to him, and I slam against his chest, the impact jarring me. My bare feet struggle to gain purchase on the grass. When I’m standing, I jerk up my head and stare into his eyes. The gray behind the mask pierces me, stabbing my vulnerability and making it bleed.
“One of themwillcatch you, bride. And when they do, I’ll enjoy watching you be tamed.”
My stomach heaves at the implication. I’m not certain what he means exactly, but it doesn’t matter. I’m going to run like fucking Forrest Gump or die trying.
Before I can come up with a response, the man releases me. I stumble back and immediately right myself, lifting my chin with a glare aimed in his direction. He ignores me and goes back to addressing the recruits.
