Page 122 of Outcast’s Vow

We park up alongside the main doors of the Anguish Hotel in the middle of New York City, right next to Central Park. Two security guards greet us and escort us inside, through the five-star lobby, and straight to a private elevator. We head up to the Presidential Suite.

But the elegance and fanciness in here don’t rub off on me.

“What’s going on, Cromwell?” I ask as the levels flash past us as we rise higher and higher. “Why all the performative secrecy? Why this hotel? What do you have in store for me?”

The elevator doors ding open, and we step into a hallway outside the entrance to the suite, and that’s when the Elder finally explains.

“There’s a gift waiting for you inside, Baptiste,” Cromwell explains. “From the Castaways.”

“A gift?”

“For what you’ve done so far for our Order.”

This doesn’t feel right. Not at all.

“What kind of gift?”

Cromwell pauses. He looks me dead in the eye. There’s no more snide cheekiness to him. No more teasing.

“It has all been arranged. In the next room, there are three women, all vetted. All untouched by other men. They’ve signed watertight NDAs. They’ve been pampered, cleaned, and spoiled, and they’re waiting for you. They’ve been provided by the Castaways for your enjoyment.”

My turn to pause.

“Virgins? What the hell are you talking about? Women offered as tribute? I’m not doing this.”

They punished Brandon for what he did, and yet they give me women like objects for my pleasure? Where’s their fucking honor?

Cromwell is unflinching at my refusal.

“This is a gift, Baptiste.”

“This is not a gift,” I reply. “This is a test.”

Cromwell pauses. He’s not going to bullshit. Not to me.

“Yes,” he says. “It’s a test.”

“To have me cheat on my wife? To place the Castaways ahead of her? To prove my loyalty to the Order?”

“Yes.”

A growl erupts from deep inside me.

“I’m leaving, Cromwell.”

It’s one of the first and only times in my life I’ve ever used his first name to address him.

I turn back to the elevator, but the Elder grabs my arm.

“To refuse this, you’d be breaking the Code, Baptiste,” he says, deadly serious. “You know this.”

I do know. I know a gift like this is to encourage silence and complicity. Once, I might’ve played their game.

But then I met Sylvie. And it’s clear now where my loyalties lie.

Refusal of this gift will mean a definite expulsion from the Castaways. My own idea of ultimate success, gone.

And it’s all been planned.