Everyone wears a cloak. Faces hidden, voices kept low. The Society isn’t a club. It’s an oath.
I pull my mask down into place before stepping into the circle. Aleksei remains in the corner, arms crossed, observing like an overseer. I am the one who speaks.
Five students wait before me, all of them talented and desperate. They were at the finance gala. I watched them watch me. They’re brilliant at numbers, but buried in debt. Their futures hang on the chance to be chosen.
“Welcome,” I say, voice carrying through the hall. “You’ve been invited because you see beyond what’s ordinary. You understand the world doesn’t reward honesty. It rewards precision, risk, and loyalty.”
A ripple of unease moves through them. Curiosity wins.
One of them, a boy named Carter, swallows hard. “What is this place?”
“A way out,” I tell him. “A way forward.”
They exchange glances. I let the silence build before I go on. “You owe money. You owe time. The Society erases debt. In return, you dedicate your skill to something greater. You will have tasks—projects that use your talents. They’re demanding. They will test you. But you’ll never worry about tuition or rent again.”
Another student, a girl with bright eyes and bitten nails, asks, “Who runs this Society?”
“You’ll know what you need to know,” I reply. “Knowledge here is earned. Obedience comes first.”
They lean in, hunger already shaping their expressions. It isn’t greed I see. It’s relief. Someone finally offering them purpose.
“Will we be paid?” Carter asks.
“You’ll be compensated,” I say. “Enough to live well. Enough to prove your worth.”
“And what happens if we want to leave?” another voice asks from the back.
“You won’t,” I tell them simply. “Once you join, the Society becomes part of you. You stay until you graduate. You work, you learn, you earn.”
Silence again. Then nods. Acceptance. Desperation looks like faith in the right lighting.
Aleksei steps forward, his presence cutting through the air. He places a small, leather-bound book on the lectern. Inside, a page filled with names written in careful ink.
“Step forward,” I say. “One at a time.”
Each recruit approaches. They place a hand on the page and speak the words we require:
“I pledge loyalty to the Griffin Society. I will serve its cause, keep its secrets, and follow its guidance without question. I will protect my brothers and sisters in this circle, and I will never betray them.”
When the last voice fades, the candles gutter and flare again. The room smells of wax and smoke and adrenaline.
“Welcome to the Society,” I tell them. “Your new lives begin tonight.”
The students exchange looks of awe, fear, excitement. Aleksei meets my eyes across the flickering light, his mouth a straight line. He knows this is more than recruitment. It’s indoctrination.
As the new members file out to receive their assignments, I stay behind, staring at the ledger. Five new names. Five newpieces on the board. Five new people who will help with our finances in a year, bringing us a wealth of cash and benefits.
I can retire some of the men who are too old to understand or use new technology, the old Russian soliders that my dad recruited in his time. They’re not efficient, nor do they understand hacking, laundering, cryptocurrency, or the need for technology and strategy.
I need people who will be useful. And the best part is that this is just the beginning. I can find more people like them, and it’s all thanks to my fake girlfriend.
Looks like fake dating Callista Vale wasn’t for nothing after all.
FIVE
Callista
The Kappacommon room smells like espresso and panic. I have three girls arguing over the color of the centerpieces, one complaining that the caterer isn’t answering emails, and a spreadsheet that refuses to balance itself.
