“Well, duh,” she laughs. “I think that’s one of the big rules: don't tell anyone. I don’t want to, anyway. Nero would fuckingkill me.”
I smile again. “Can… Can I be honest?”
She nods. “Of course.”
“I think I’m a little out of my depth with all of this. I’m not even sure I’ll go.”
She nods. “I get it. It’s a little intimidating.” She rolls her eyes. “Okay, it’s a lot intimidating. I meanrisk of serious injury or death?Like…what?!” She shivers, then shakes her head. “But, I mean, it’s the Obsidian fucking Syndicate. Becoming an acolyte would behuge.”
My brows knit. “Um…why? I mean, why do you want to join?”
She gives me a strange look. “Probably for the same reasons you do? I’m a second-born in a mafia family—and a girl, at that. Nero knows I’d stab him through the fuckingeyeif he tried to force me to marry some mafia prince. But that’s our lot in life. I mean, I can’t imagine your brother would make you marry anyone, but…” She shrugs. “Anyway, I want more than that. I wantpower. I want to lead. And that’s not going to happen in the De Luca family as Nero’s kid sister.” She glances back at me. “I like that the Syndicate doesn’t care what order you were born, or if you’ve got a dick, or a pussy, or fuckingtentacles,” she laughs. Then she shrugs again. “What about you?”
Uhh…
“Same,” I blurt quickly. “Pretty much.”
“That’s mygirl,” she beams. “Seriously, it's so cool that you’re going to be at the initiation too! I mean, I think it’s supposed to be anonymous…” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard there’s masks and shit. But it’ll still be comforting to have someone I know there. I’ve heard the initiation process can getinsane. Plus, the new Marquis is supposed to be super intense. Like, a real psycho.”
I frown. “Marquis?”
“The leader.” She furrows her brow. “Of the Syndicate. That’s his title.”
Vaughn.
The “intense” Marquis isVaughn.
Hoo boy.
Gabriella glances at her phone again and winces. “Shit, I actually need to get going.” She looks up at me and smiles. “Can I get your contact info? We should, you know, hang. Especially if you’re here on campus now and then.”
She and I exchange numbers. Then I stand and hug her before she scoots off to class, promising to be in touch.
I sit on the bench again, my mind whirling: thinking about the initiation, the fact that I know someone else who’s been pulled into the strange, shadowy world of the Syndicate…
“May I?”
I startle, looking up quickly. The older gentleman who was sitting on the other side of the square—the professor—is nowstanding over me, a smile on his face as he gestures to the bench I’m sitting on.
“Uh…of course,” I mumble, shuffling over to make room, trying not to frown. Like, there are three other benches around the statue, and they’reallempty.
The man is elegantly dressed in a tailored linen suit. Hesmellselegant, too…both of which feel strange for a college professor. He settles next to me on the bench, folding his hands in his lap and looking straight ahead.
“I think youshould.”
I frown, glancing at him.
“Beg pardon?”
He’s still looking forward ahead, a benign smile on his lips and an impassive expression in his eyes.
“You should go to the initiation,Ms. Nikitin.”
Anxiety, cold and sharp, twists in my chest. The air leaves my lungs, and an uncomfortable tremor drips like ice water down my spine.
“I—I’m sorry,” I blurt. “Do we know?—”
“No.”
