Joey’s head snaps toward me, excitement lighting his face. I step forward slowly, like my body doesn’t belong to me.
The folder is placed in my hands. Inside there’s a picture. A name. A list of “crimes.” Breathing becomes harder the longer I stare at it. “Take your target,” the man says, voice dropping. “And don’t come back until it’s done.”
She’s not what I expected. That’s the problem. She’s not screaming. Not fighting. Just… sitting there. Tied to a chair in a dim room that smells like mildew and regret.
Her eyes lift when I walk in. They land on me like she knows. Like she already understands what I’m here to do. My grip tightens on my knife.
“Please,” she whispers. The word is barely there, like she doesn’t have enough left in her to beg properly.
That one word fractures something inside my chest. I don’t move. I can’t. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong.
I think about Joey. About Rory. About the life I thought I was walking into. This wasn’t it. This was never it.
“Please,” she says again, softer this time.
My hand starts to shake. I take a step back. Then another. I could leave. I could walk out right now. Take the consequences.Take the punishment. Take whatever the hell they throw at me—The door creaks behind me.
I turn. A man stands there. Masked. Watching me. Waiting for me to make a move. Judging me for hesitating. My chest tightens. This isn’t a choice. It never was. It was decided the second I stepped on that stage. The second I picked that cup. The second I chose the order over everything else.
I look back at her. Then down at the knife. My jaw clenches. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. And then I move.
“I can’t do this,” Joey whispers, leaning in close, his voice shaking as his eyes flick back to the center of the room.
We both sit on the sidelines watching as one of the official cult members fillets a person directly in front of us. The victim is strapped flat to a metal table, wrists and ankles bound tight, leather biting into their skin. Their chest rises and falls in short, panicked gasps as the official drags the blade slow and deliberate, peeling flesh back with practiced precision.
The purpose is to get them ready to surrender their soul to the dark one. I honestly don’t understand why we need to filletthem in order for that to happen. If I am being honest with myself, I don’t believe anything that we do around here is for The Dark One. It is man made to elicit fear in us so we will listen.
We are learning how to properly cut someone open to keep their hearts beating as long as possible. The instructor narrates every step, showing where to slice and where not to, how to avoid puncturing anything vital too soon. A metal hook keeps the ribcage spread, the heart visibly hammering beneath torn muscle. The longer the heart beats, the sweeter the soul for our true king.Bullshit.
I sigh and squeeze Joey’s shoulder. This place is not what he thought it was going to be. I remember day one when he was beaming with excitement to learn all of the “cool” things the officials said they would teach us.
All the different fighting tactics. All the different ways to wield a weapon. All of the power we would feel.
But this doesn’t feel like power to me. No. This just feels like mindless death.
It has always felt like mindless death for no real cause. But I don’t dare speak that out loud. Nobody would be dumb enough to speak like that because they would just kill you and move on to the next one.
Life doesn’t mean shit to these men. You either serve them and their cause, or you die trying. It’s as simple as that.
It’s been a month since I smelled Rory’s hair, or heard the way her voice cracked when I pulled an orgasm from her body. Distance makes me ache with need for her. Not right now. But Ican’t help but have her in my head in a continuous loop. It’s like watching your favorite part from your most treasured movie on repeat. It’s hard to complain when the woman you love comes to your mind so often. In my head, it’s like we never left one another.
A scream bellows from the crowd, and my gaze snaps to the woman on the sidelines. She has her hand over her face as she sobs. Her knees buckle, but the guards don’t let her fall. They keep her upright, forcing her to watch as the blade continues its work. The guards hold her up by her arms, so that she doesn’t fall to the ground. By the looks of it, she knows the sacrifice personally. This must be another punishment for her, that they are making her watch.
Then from the tree line another man is dragged into the circle. This time the woman’s knees give out completely and the only reason she is still upright is by the guards holding her weight.
Those of us who are new glance at one another. Wondering what the hell is happening right now. I thought it was just another sacrifice. Just another lesson to learn, but this feels off. This doesn’t seem like a normal thing that happens.
We’re all forced to watch. That’s the worst part. That’s how they break us. They drag him into the center of the room, kicking and screaming. “I won’t do it!” he shouts. “You can’t make me—” A punch cuts him off. Blood spraysacross the floor.
No one moves. No one speaks. Because we all understand the same thing at the same time–if he dies for refusing them so will we.
The teal-masked leader steps forward. “This,” he says calmly, “is what happens when you forget your place.”
The man struggles harder. “This isn’t what we signed up for!”
I feel Joey shift beside me. I don’t look at him. I can’t.
“Hold him.”
