The Guardian?
He pushes me down the hallway, toward the kitchens. I pull my dress up to keep from tripping over the long hem. The door is ajar; inside I see cooks and waitstaff bustling, white jackets, clattering pans, and steam rising. If I can just get in there. Just reach one of them.
The knife jabs into my lower back–a warning.
Right before the kitchen, another door opens. Another set of hands grabs me from behind, yanking me into the night.
Cold air hits my face. Mist swirls. I blink up at my second abductor–long hair knotted at the nape of his neck, same as Mateo’s–and gasp when I see the mask.
Black steel. Covering the upper half of his face with curled horns.
The beast.
Another memory slams into me–I’m being tossed into a cell. Darkness. Dank air. Footsteps. Voices. Male. A masked captor lurking nearby. Other females crying in the dark. Fear. Terror.
“He’ll find you,” I say to Mateo, voice shaking. Wet grass soaks the hem of my dress. My toes turn to ice. “He’ll kill you when he finds out you betrayed him.”
“He hasn’t found out yet,” Mateo says, pulling his own mask into place as we walk across the snow-covered yard. “And he won’t. He and his Barons are too consumed with his new bride and her crazy little head and her tight little pussy.” He sneers. “How many piercings do you have now? Three? Four? They’re obsessed with you and that’s why this had to happen. That is why you must die.”
There’s an outbuilding ahead–old metal and wood, maybe a gazebo or a patio structure. The darker it gets, the harder it is to tell who is who. They look like twins now–same height, same build, same low ponytail.
“This is his fault, you know,” Mateo continues, voice eerily calm. “He’s the one who betrayed the natural order of things. That betrayal sealed the fate of every sacrifice, of every girl who gave their last breath to set things right.”
My mind whirls. “But why me?”
“You were chosen before you ever understood what you were,” he continues. “The moment your uncle bound you to Maddox, you were already promised elsewhere. A life for a life. Blood to balance blood. That’s how it’s always been done.”
My stomach twists. “I didn’t kno–”
“No,” he agrees softly. “You weren’t meant to know. Sacrifices rarely do.”
The knife shifts, gliding higher until the edge rests under my jaw. I feel the whisper of steel at my throat. “You were taken,” he says. “Consecrated. Brought to the threshold. You were supposed to cross it. That was the design.”
My breath becomes shallow. Images fracture through me–rope, dark, hands, the horned mask and the–
“You fled the altar. Crawled out of the dark and back into the world.” His eyes search my face like I’m something holy and ruined at once. “The Guardian was denied what was owed.”
Ice slides through me. “So you’re… what? Finishing it?”
“I’m restoring it,” he corrects. “A broken rite poisons everything around it. This will not end until your blood spills, Arianette.”
“Who is the Guardian?” I ask, voice trembling as they drag me around the side of the gazebo. “Why do they hate me so much?”
“It’s not about you, Arianette.” Mateo’s tone shifts–fanatical, almost reverent. “It’s about this place. The way it’s been lost. Softened. The old rites, the old blood, they kept the balance. They kept the darkness in check. He thinks he can wear the crown and play house with you, pretend the old ways have no use in a modern world. But they do. They’re waiting. And they’re angry.”
Torchlight flickers from below. Bulkhead doors–old, rusted metal set into the ground–swing open to reveal a dark pit. Stone steps descend into shadow. More people wait down there. More masks. More blades.
The knife pierces the skin at my throat just enough to sting. He slices upward, cutting through the collar, the leather strap falling to the ground.
“Don’t worry, Baroness,” the masked man behind me whispers, breath hot against my ear. “Just like the others, Laura and Kelsey, you’ll welcome death when we’re finished with you.”
I feel the world tilt.
The party back at the house is still going, the music, laughter, and champagne are only yards away.
And I’m being pulled into the dark.
Again.
