It’s a confessional.
I’m not even sure what the bastard did to fuck them over, but he’s paying for it.
A woman walks down the center aisle, passing around a glass bowl full of razor blades. They’re going to cut him for his sins.
He must bleed for his betrayal.
The Lords take payment in various ways, but it’s always the same—your life.
Once they are finished, I’ll sew him up and he will be collected. He’ll be dead to the world, but his heart will still beat. I don’t know where he will end up, nor do I fucking care.
Not my problem. I’m just here to do my job.
The woman glances up at me, and I make sure to keep my stare blank, giving nothing away. They can smell fucking fear, and I’m not afraid of her. Not anymore.
Those who don’t know about our secret society wouldn’t know who she really is. She’s as evil as they come. Men worship her. Think she’s the most beautiful creature they’ve ever seen. A goddess. Even my father fell for her, and he hates women.
It’s all a lie.
I’ve seen their version of hell, and although I survived, a part of me died as well. I’ve never been tied to the altar for a confessional, but I’ve been an offering to some. They take and take until there is nothing left for you to give. Then they call you cynical and unappreciative.
They strip you naked, tie you down, and fill you with drugs. “It’s what’s best for you,” they say. “You vowed your life to them.” The fuck I did. I never had a choice.
The Lord screams into his gag as blood pours from his freshly cut skin. He’s also pissed himself. They act so tough until payment is due. Then they’re all the same.
Pathetic.
I’ve been there. I thought it would help. It didn’t. They don’t care. Bodily fluids won’t stop them from getting what they want.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see who is calling me.Fuckface. I hit ignore and pocket it. I’ll call him back later.
After everyone clears out, I make my way down to the altar. The Lord strapped to it and I are the only two here in the cathedral.
I softly hum a lullaby while the man lies tied down, spread eagle and naked, to the Lords’ altar. The sounds of the double doors squeaking alert me that the bastard’s ride has arrived.
My back is to the doors as I dunk the sponge into the bowl of water to start cleaning the man off. He’s bleeding from shallow cuts. His peers took it easy on him, if you ask me. I’ve seen much worse.
He screams into the gag secured in his mouth by the leather harness wrapped around his head. The man’s eyes go from mine to behind me to whoever has come to collect him. He’s going to hell. That’s where all of us will end up. It’s what we deserve. A life full of sin isn’t rewarded.
I continue to hum over his mumbled pleas as I feel eyes on me from behind. Heat rushes up my legs and over my back, and my face flushes at the butterflies that flutter in my stomach. My voice grows louder to drown whoever it is out, and I sing the words of “Hush, Little Baby.”
I take my time cleaning the Lord, trying to look unfazed when I really want to run. My heart pounds and my pulse is racing. I’m never affected like this. I drop the sponge into the bucket and feel the water splash my fishnet-covered legs.
Taking a deep breath, I turn around to face whoever is here for the Lord. My breath gets caught in my lungs at who I see. Not one, but two Lords.
Spade brothers. And both of them have seen me naked.
A moment of panic makes me tremble. Are they here for me? Do they know what I do? That I’m betraying the Lords?
No. They can’t. If they were here for me, they would have gone unnoticed and taken me from my bed in the middle of the night, not shown up here. They’re here for him—the Lord who has been cut open like a fish by their peers.
I place my attention on the one I see as less threatening. “A little help, please?” I hold out my left hand to Kashton Landon Pierce to see how he reacts.Does he remember me?
Probably not. That was a long time ago.
He gets up and walks over to the Lords’ altar. His eyes are on mine, and it takes everything in me not to look away and show him that one night with him changed my life.
Taking my hand, he helps me get up onto the altar where I straddle the man’s waist. “Hand me that basket.” I point at a wicker basket on the floor next to the stairs.
