3. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Jacob
I can't concentrate on anything. The harder I try to sit and work, the less progress I make, so I give up and pace around my flat.
I haven’t bothered to decorate it much, partly because I’ll be moving out of the initiates’ quarters once the Ceremony is over and partly because I don’t really give a fuck. I made sure it had a comfy couch and a sensible desk. Good enough for me. Suzy can do what she likes with the place once she’s settled in.
I have a couple of framed John Wayne movie posters. Grandad and I used to watch the old Westerns together when I was a kid, and I never stopped liking them. When we moved across the pond, one of the first trips I took Grandad on was to Monument Valley, where they filmed The Searchers and a bunch of other John Wayne flicks.
The only other personal touch is a glass cabinet filled with my treasured footie memorabilia. The signed balls and old boots look a bit out of place, but they’re one of the few things I actually care about.
Thinking of Grandad has me pulling out my phone. Once Suzy gets here, I'll be distracted. I've told him I'll be working on a big project and won't be able to visit for a couple of weeks, but the urge to check in on him is strong.
Aside from my sister back in London, Grandad's the only family I have. He raised me from four, when social services removed Ruth and me from our mum’s care, and he retired from the oil rigs on the spot to take care of us.
The phone rings for ages, but I don't hang up. I imagine him hunting for his glasses and pottering around his house. When he finally answers, he sounds as pissed off as I was expecting.
“Hello?”
“Hiya.”
“Jacob! I was looking for that stupid bloody cordless phone you got me. Can never find the fucking thing.”
“Sorry. I'll get you one that goes into the wall next time I'm over.”
If they still make them. I might have to get one from an antiques shop. Grandad refuses to get a mobile on the grounds that they cause cancer. Pretty rich from a lifelong smoker. I only managed to get him off the ciggies three years ago.
“I can't talk long. Mrs. Belkins next door wants me to help her in the garden. I could get my leg over yet, my boy. Never too old.”
I burst out laughing. Grandad has to be the only eighty-five-year-old on the planet still chasing skirt.
“You think that's funny? You're a fine one to talk. Might as well be a fucking monk lately, all the time you spend at work.”
An old argument, and one I don't feel like having again right now. “I was just checking in. Don't keep Mrs. Belkins waiting.”
“Too right, my boy. Catch ya soon.”
He hangs up, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I put the kettle on for a cup of tea but flick it off again. I can’t handle the silence any longer, and the TV will just piss me off. I need to get out of here for a bit. The worst thing about the Compound is how much of a hassle it is to go anywhere. It's not like I can just nip down to the local for a pint.
Everything is ready.
All the same, I check my preparations again. Suzy is a pure submissive who longs for a Master and enjoys all the rituals of high-protocol service. Rules, rewards, and punishments. Routines will keep her calm, just as they do me.
I read through my training plan for the fifteenth time, then slap it down on my desk and leave my flat. I need a distraction whilst I wait for news.
I head toward Seb’s rooms. No use trying Gabriel—weekends belong to Eve. He'll be banging her six ways to bloody Sunday, and nothing short of a terrorist attack will make him answer his door. I’m lucky Seb is still a lonely single bastard like me.
Like me for the next few hours, anyway. As long as the Gilda don't fuck it up.
Seb answers almost as soon as I buzz, a smug look on his face. He gives me a once-over with an eyebrow raised. “Nervous? I never thought I’d see the great Jacob West all jittery at the prospect of a girl.”
“Shut the fuck up and let’s have a beer. None of that pissy American crap, either. A proper beer.”
I hold up four bottles of Newcastle Brown. Seb pulls a face but waves me inside anyway. His place is the opposite of mine, decorated in that minimalist but posh-looking way. White seats that aren't even comfy to sit on but probably cost more than a car, arranged around a weirdly shaped glass coffee table.
Seb fits in at the Compound better than I do. After a while of having money, most Brothers develop expensive tastes. I once had to listen to Seb and Kendrick discuss different brands of a thing that keeps wine at the right temperature for almost half an hour at a dinner before I could make my escape.
I crack two beers, hand one to Seb, and park myself in the least offensive chair. “I’m not worried about the girl. I’m pissed off I’m not out there collecting her myself.”
Seb takes a swig of his own beer, grimaces, but manages not to comment, then sets it down on the table. “Will it do any good to remind you the Gilda have done this a few times before? Or do you just want me to listen while you complain?”
“Listen while I complain. It’s bollocks. I’m more experienced than any of that mob, and she’s my girl. I get where Kendrick’s coming from, but I’m not a normal scientist.”
“No, you’re infinitely more of a badass. The Gilda should fear your very name.”
I sigh, torn between amusement and irritation at Seb’s deadpan sarcasm. He doesn’t know the extent of my experience—it’s not the done thing to talk about your time in the SAS—but Gabriel and Seb both know I was special ops in my younger years. Only Kendrick understands my full history, and even that didn’t convince him to let me run one simple mission.
Just as I raise my beer to my lips, my phone buzzes. I snatch it out and read the message. “Collection successful.”
Fuck me. What a relief. I show Seb the message, and he holds out his bottle for me to cheers. The tight knot in my chest loosens. Suzy is safe and on her way. She’ll be here in an hour.
When Kendrick first approached me about the Brotherhood, I knew there had to be a catch. All the shadowy talk of initiation had me thinking the worst. Human sacrifice. Chopping your dick off. That kind of bollocks. When he revealed the secret, it was almost a relief.
Difficult to manage but not impossible with careful planning. And I get the sort of relationship I’ve always craved but never managed to find in the real world.
Lots of women talk about wanting to submit, but they only mean in the bedroom. I’m not interested in playing games for an evening, then living life as a normal couple. I came across a few women who claimed they wanted me to own them, but when it came down to it, they still wanted independence.
I’d given up on finding what I really wanted when Kendrick made his offer.
It’s morally wrong, but I’ve done a lot in my life that falls in the gray area and a few things that stray closer to black. I’ve chosen a woman who wants the life I’m offering and doesn’t have much to leave behind. A perfect candidate, and I know I’ll make her happy given time.
I’m so lost in my anticipation of what is to come that I don’t realize Seb is talking until he knocks on the table. “Hello? Jacob? You in there?”
“Sorry.” I stand and throw my empty bottle into the rubbish. Then, despite Seb’s protestation, I take a paper towel and wipe up the ring of condensation.
I’m neat to the point that it pisses people off, but I can’t help it. I don’t remember much from when I lived with mum, but the smell and filth stayed with me. It left me unable to bear a dirty plate or a few crumbs from a slice of toast on the kitchen bench.
“She’ll be here in an hour. I need to go. See you in a bit,” I announce, already heading for the door.
Seb’s quip follows me out. “Better go and check everything is ready again. Your apartment might have spontaneously messed itself up in the last fifteen minutes.”
***
Exactly one hour later, I’m standing in front of the main administration building, ready to take delivery of my girl. I managed to bend Kendrick’s ear enough to let me do things a bit different to normal. Usually, the girls are drugged, medically checked, and given a tracker, then left to wake up in their Patron’s bedroom.
That’s not what I wanted because of Suzy’s past. She’s a nurse, and I’ve seen her medical records. She doesn’t have anything nasty. And when we place the tracker, I’ll make it into a ritual. Part of her submission.
Given my background, Kendrick trusts me to handle one girl for a few days before we get it placed.
The big man himself has made an appearance, along with Seb and a few other Brothers. You’d think a group of top-level scientists would have better things to do than gossip, but they’re like a bunch of dinner ladies here. Word spreads quicker than fire. Everyone wants to see the spectacle of a new Ward arriving wide awake.
The Gilda car pulls in, and a surge of adrenaline scorches me. “Jittery”, Seb called me. The bastard wasn’t far off, if I’m honest. I’m about to meet the girl I’ll spend the rest of my life with, and the importance of the moment settles over me like a weight. I wish I’d told all the looky-loos to clear off, but it’s too late now.
Kendrick claps me on the shoulder. “Ready?”
I straighten my spine. “Ready.”
He nods and steps back as Colonel Brackis, the head of the Gilda, gets out of the passenger side of the car. A younger soldier I don’t recognize exits the driver’s side. “She’s in back, sir. A real firecracker that one. We had to bind her tight. Good job you’ve got training. You’ll need it.”
A frown creases my brow. A firecracker? That doesn't sound right. But I shrug off the worry. The Gilda are used to bringing in unconscious women. They must be unused to any sort of struggle.
The back windows of the car are blacked out, and the doors only open from the outside. The back of the car is a tiny, dark prison cell. It would have been an uncomfortable trip.
I crack the door a little, letting in a bit of light to allow her eyes to get used to it. I expect her to shout or bang against the door, but she doesn’t. The car is silent. Another prickle of worry scrapes along my nerves. What if she’s injured? If the dickheads didn’t secure her properly and she’s hurt, I’ll…
I pull the door open. Before I can make out what I’m seeing, a head flies toward my face. If I didn’t have the reactions I do, she’d have smashed my fucking nose. I step out of the way just in time and manage to catch the girl before she face-plants the concrete.
She’s tied up tightly, hands bound behind her back and ankles lashed together. A muffled stream of sound comes from her gagged mouth, and she struggles like an angry cat as I set her down on her knees. Blood pulses so loud in my ears I can’t hear anything else, though I’m sure someone is speaking.
I stare at the girl’s face screwed up in anger as she yells through the gag. Ghostly pale skin, ice-blue eyes, a sharp face, and bright pink hair. Not Suzy.
The wrong girl.
The wrong fucking girl.