The sooner we show up and play our part like dutiful soldiers, the sooner I can convince Jessica to let me pick her up and take her back to mine.
Why is she so stubborn?
Why won’t she let me take her home with me so I can bury myself in her warm pussy and forget the fucking world? In fact, I want to spend the rest of my days with my cock in one of her holes because she feels so fucking good and, honestly, tastes even better.
I can’t get enough.
“Caused a little mayhem, brother,” Maverick says with a wink before heading past me and into the crypt. Is it just me, or does he smell of aerosol and motor oil?
I’m frowning when Noah smacks me on the shoulder with the back of his hand as he heads inside. “Come on. Let’s see what boring shit the old men have planned tonight.”
Behind me, Cash grumbles as he waits for me to finally move my feet, his eyes bloodshot from either pills or cocaine. God knows what his poison is tonight.
There used to be a time when I turned to drugs to dull my senses, too, but I rarely do it now because I like to stay in control. Anything stronger than alcohol or the occasional pill fucks with me too much for my liking. Besides, I have a stronger drug now, and I fully intend to bury my head between her smooth thighs later.
She just doesn’t know it yet.
We enter the crypt. To the casual observer, it looks nondescript, set among a cluster of fir trees and surrounded by weather-beaten gravestones. This is the older part of the cemetery, and aside from drunk teenagers at night or the occasional dog walker, no one comes here.
At the back of the crypt, a passage leads to the chambers downstairs. This place gave me the creeps when I was a kid, and I guess it still does to some degree.
The staircase spirals downward like an open throat swallowing us whole, little rocks crunching underfoot. No one speaks. No one breathes. We never know what awaits us when we reach the bottom.
The air changes first.
Cooler.
Damper.
Tinged with candle smoke and the faint bite of something metallic.
Maverick pauses at the bottom and tenses, his pulse tapping at his throat. Noah brushes past, grabs one of the cloaks and masks that hang on the wall for himself, then throws another set at Maverick. “Let’s just do this, and then we can head over to Dark Lanes to destroy pussies and egos.”
“Put that shit on a T-shirt.” Maverick’s voice sounds far away as he follows Noah deeper into the darkness.
The last thing I want to do is this, but the stage is lit and the audience is seated.
Mustn’t leave them waiting.
I quickly pull on a robe and a mask before heading down the dark tunnel, Cash close on my heels. The others are already waiting in the large chamber that opens before us.
A cavern of stone and shadow.
Candles line the walls in uneven rows, dripping wax. All of this used to be overwhelming and scary when I was eleven, but now I see it for what it is.
A song and dance.
A fucking performance.
Our robed fathers wait behind the long obsidian table carved with sigils, along with eight other men, their masks glinting in the candlelight as we pass the pillars.
I know the feeling of danger as it whispers in the air. I’ve spoken its language my whole life. It’s something you soon become fluent in when you’re born into our world.
Lining up across from the hooded men, I stare my father in the eyes. Mask or no mask, I could pick him out of a crowd any day.
A member collects everyone’s phones and watches, and a chime sounds, signaling that the show is about to start. Behind us, the chamber door seals shut with a hydraulic hiss, and all twelve men—leaders of the nation, corporations, militaries, and shadow networks—take their seats.
The chairman opens a folder. “Gentlemen, let’s begin. We’ve got too many fires burning at once.”
