“It’s not dumb.” He snapped, his tone laced with irritation. “To understand how to protect your sister, you must become a Knight.”
That got his attention.
“Protect her how?”
“Alex will become the Queen of The Devil’s Knights after marrying a Salvatore.”
My eyes widened at Aiden, and his expression mirrored mine.
“I’m going to college with Alex,” Aiden said, arms crossed. “She needs me. I can’t leave her to join the Knights.”
Pops clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You have time. I just wanted you to know what awaits you.”
I skimmed through the book and stopped on a page about The Devil’s Knights’ initiation process. But before I could read it, Pops closed the book.
“Wait!” I flung out my hand. “I’m not done reading.”
Pops shook his head. “You must be a member to learn about the initiation process. But I will say this. After graduation, Luca, Bastian, and Damian will leave for initiation. Then, they will attend Harvard and live with other recruits. You won’t see much of them after this school year. Initiation rules are quite strict. No contact for over six months.”
My heart sank into my stomach, but I didn’t understand why I cared. The Salvatore brothers hadn’t made a good impression. So far, they were my least favorite people.
CHAPTER 11
DAMIAN
I never talked much as a child. And as an adult, I spoke even less. My biological parents couldn’t figure out why I rarely communicated using words.
They thought I had a learning disability. Autism. A mental illness. Just about everything the doctors could dig up from their medical journals.
I just didn’t like to talk.
Bastian understood me from the start. He was only three months older. And since our parents were best friends and founded an airline together, we were inseparable from birth.
We spent almost every day together. Every holiday and birthday. There were very few days we weren’t at each other’s houses. I even attended all of his concerts.
You wouldn’t know it by looking at Bash, but he was a prodigy pianist. He started playing when he was only two years old and wrote music. And some nights, he played for me when I couldn’t sleep.
Like tonight.
I sat on his bed and watched his fingers glide across the keys. He was graceful when he played, like a dancer getting lost in the beat, or an artist allowing the muse to take over.
After he finished the song, he looked at me and patted the bench. “I wrote something for you.”
He hadn’t done this in a long time, and excitement rushed through me.
I slid off the bed and sat beside him. “Did you name the song?”
Bash bobbed his head. “I’m calling it The Darkest Prince.”
People in town called us the princes of Devil’s Creek. We were the closest you could get to royalty in America. Our lineage traces back to the Founding Fathers of the United States.
“The Darkest Prince.” Smiles were rare for me, but not when I was with Bash. “It’s fitting.”
“There’s darkness inside you. It was there even before your parents died.” His fingers inched closer to mine on the bench. “Luca is the cruelest prince.” He laughed. “And Marcello is the protective prince.”
I brushed the fallen strand of hair off his forehead and looked into his eyes. They were gray and reminded me of stone. “Which prince are you?”
“The creative prince?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not as mysterious as you. Or as mean as Luca… or as noble as Marcello.”
