Page 1 of Outcast’s Vow

PROLOGUE

SYLVIE

“Not far from here, a plane is landing on an airstrip, and inside that plane are the most eligible young bachelors on the planet. And today, these men are wholly focused on one thing and one thing only... hunting one of you.”

An excited babble erupts from the crowd of hopeful young women around me. I don’t join in. Instead, I lean forward to hear the next words from the man.

“As you all know,” he continues, refusing to be interrupted by the commotion, “by tradition, if you are successfully caught by one of these men, you are bound to him for the rest of your life.”

And with that proclamation, Elder Alwin Beckett’s voice is completely drowned out by two dozen girls bursting with glee, their anticipation choking the air like a thick mist.

I sweep my gaze over the others in the lobby. Gathered here is the upper crust of society. Perfect hair. Flushed cheeks. Family money. Hunger.

This is worse than any cult.

This is a lobby full of rich women desperate for husbands.

At this sole five-star resort on this tiny tropical island, I suddenly feel very trapped. The hot sun begins to rise on the horizon over the crystal-blue water, which means...

These predators in suits Elder Beckett speaks of – the promising men hell-bent on chasing us – are nearly here.

Sick rises in the back of my throat. I breathe in and out on purpose. The way I’ve practiced.

Calm, Sylvie. One step at a time. You’ve been prepping for this.

Elder Beckett drones on, but I’m no longer listening. A judge on the Supreme Court of the United States, he was also once one of these eligible young bachelors. I know his story well. Decades ago, as part of the secret Castaways Order, he took part in this very Chase. He caught his wife here. She once stood where I am standing, in this lobby.

Was she freaking out then as well, or was she squealing with the rest of the crowd? Did she want this fate?

“Blah, blah, blah,” a girl with a thick Italian accent mutters to her friend in front of me, rolling her eyes at Beckett’s speech. “We all know this. Andiamo!”

She might have a different accent, just like the other British, French, Iranian, and Japanese women among us, all dolled up in flowing white dresses made of soft cotton, purposefully flaunting a sense of purity and grace. But no matter the color of our passports, we are all united in one thing.

The Castaways. And the men coming today... they are the elite Order’s next leaders.

The women’s faces here are caked in layers of makeup. Red lips. Blushed cheeks. Expertly applied mascara. Attire certainly not crafted to run away from men. The women here are fully signed-up participants in this game.

But as for me? I’m not wrapped in a flowing white dress. I’m in camouflage gear. An olive-green long-sleeved shirt made of nylon. Cargo pants outfitted to the max with pockets. Knee protection. Heavy hiking boots that are wrong in this lobby built for silk slippers. A tactical bandana keeping my platinum blonde hair back in a practical ponytail. Utility belt. Backpack crammed with survival essentials tightly secured over my shoulders. My makeup consists of lines of dark greens and light browns.

Because I’m not here to be caught.

I’m here to hide.

“Today is a privilege,” Elder Beckett continues. “Today is when the rest of your lives begin. Today is the day you have been waiting for. Good luck, girls.”

No one has hidden in the Chase for decades.

Not until today.

Success is very, very slim. It’s probably why the Order’s allowed me to dress tactically. They’re arrogant enough to think I’ll lose no matter what.

I’m going to prove them wrong.

Oh, and I bet Father has a few suitors lined up for me.

Elder Beckett met his wife here, and this is where Father met Mother. This is where Father started his long road rising up the Order to where he is now.

The Supreme Elder. The leader of the Castaways.