Wicked Stalker (Captives of the Onyx Brotherhood #1)

Prologue

Gabriel

“How are you settling into the Compound?”

Kendrick studies me as I try to frame an answer that won’t have me sounding like a blabbering idiotic fanboy.

It’s incredible.

I can’t believe somewhere like this actually exists.

The possibilities…

“Very well, thank you.” I take a sip of the whiskey he poured me. Should I have swirled it first? No, that’s probably a showy thing they only do in movies. “The equipment in my lab is first-rate. I’ll be able to make serious progress.”

Kendrick waves a hand. “If you need anything else, just requisition it, and we’ll see you get it.”

I have to work not to show my excitement. My last job was with one of the world’s most respected tech companies, and even there I had to battle for every new piece of equipment. And they wanted detailed plans of what I needed it for. Hours wasted on paperwork.

When the Brotherhood approached me, freedom sealed the deal. Unrestricted freedom to work on whatever I want— and the resources to do it. Even if it means sidestepping regulations here and there.

Kendrick leans forward, hands clasped on the surface of his immense desk. The thing looks like it belongs in an ancient British castle and matches the rest of the office. The man has an actual suit of armor in the corner.

Kendrick could pass for a royal in his somber suit, so well-fitted even I can tell it must be expensive. I’m out of place in my ripped jeans and T-shirt. I run an absent finger over the spiraling black ink at my wrist as Kendrick continues.

“The initiate’s quarters. They’re suitable?”

When he first told me where I’d be staying, I’d imagined a tiny, bare cell. Something harking back to when the Onyx Brotherhood were Christian monks, in the 1500s.

I wouldn’t have cared if it was—for the lab they’ve given me, I’d have slept in a box at the side of the road. But the spacious suite of rooms dwarfs the San Francisco apartment I left behind. I’ll stay there until I fulfill the final ceremony—something they’ve kept shrouded in mystery—and become a full Brother.

“They’re excellent, sir. Thank you.”

Kendrick nods and gives me a considering look. “You haven’t asked yet about the final test. Most new initiates are desperate to find out. Why so reticent?”

I take another sip of the whiskey. Might as well give him a truthful answer. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I won’t let anything keep me from this opportunity.”

Kendrick’s eyes sharpen. “Good. That’s the attitude we expect.”

He pauses, face serious, and a shiver crawls up my spine as I remember what Kendrick told me when I agreed to join.

We’ll ask something of you. It’s illegal and immoral and compulsory. If you refuse, the consequences will be dire .

I’d imagined some sort of industrial espionage at the time. But now, after seeing the Brotherhood’s vast resources up close, I can’t imagine they’d need my help to infiltrate a competing organization.

Kendrick takes a deep breath. “Try to remain calm. Every Brother, dating back to the separation in 1623, has been given the same task, and all but the most cavalier have struggled with the morality of it. You are to take a woman captive.”

The words roll over my ears, and I search them for any possible alternate meaning. Kendrick watches me, impassive, with no sign the statement might have been a joke. A horrible suspicion lodges in my chest. “The Brotherhood traffics women?”

“No.” A crease forms between Kendrick’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “The woman isn’t to be sold. She’s yours to keep. Your Ward. Brothers may not marry or bear children. Your Ward fulfills your needs. You train her, ensure her absolute obedience, and mark her as your own.”

His eyes soften a little. “That ceremony, the marking ceremony, grants you the status of a full Brother. I know this must come as a shock. Take a moment to process, then ask me whatever you wish.”

I stand and walk to the window, my breath coming in deep, rough gasps. Fields and forest stretch for miles on the other side of the glass. Peaceful, except for the armed guards that patrol every inch of the perimeter. The Compound is a fortress. And, I realize with a lurch of my gut, a prison. How many women are kept here?

Train her. Ensure her absolute obedience.

Bleak horror fills me at the words, but something else bubbles right underneath. How many times have I fantasized about just that? How long have I spent on porn sites, watching those scenes play out ?

Guilt smothers the thought, and I whirl on Kendrick. “Are you insane? Why would you want me to do that? It’s unconscionable.”

He’s unfazed, as if he’s been through this discussion many times over. “It’s an ancient tradition, and it can be a noble one if you select the right woman. In days gone by, Wards were often women of poor origin, grateful for a safe place to sleep and regular food. But now, Brothers select their Ward carefully.”

He pauses, taking a sip of his own drink. “Once the difficult initial period is over, many work proudly alongside their Patrons. That’s you.”

I stare at him, unable to believe this isn’t some sort of joke. Or a test of character to weed out potential sociopaths. I scramble to find a shred of sanity and fail. All I manage is another “Why?”

Kendrick looks pleased, so it seems the conversation is taking the path he wanted. “Our order used to demand celibacy, but that’s counterproductive for most men. It led to risky practices with street women and a lot of anger. A Ward allows a Brother to concentrate on his work, all bodily needs met. And”—he drops his voice, even though no one could possibly be listening—“the act of taking a Ward removes a Brother from normal society forever. We keep evidence of the capture. If you ever make the foolish decision to betray the Brotherhood, we’ll see the evidence released. Scrubbed of our involvement, of course.”

He waves a hand into my frozen silence and smiles. The fucker actually smiles at me. “Spend some more time at the Compound. Meet the Brothers and their Wards. Talk to them. You’ll see it’s not all bad.”

“Do you have a Ward?” I snap the question out, and he flinches at it, face hardening. He gives a curt nod.

“Alyssa and I were together for fifteen years. I lost her three years ago. ”

His lips thin to a tight line, dissuading me from further questions along that path. But something else from this nightmare conversation pushes forward.

“What did you say before? Mark her?”

Kendrick’s eyes take on a faraway look. “Every six months, we hold a marking ceremony. It’s a beautiful event. Your Ward will kneel at your feet, kiss your hand, and thank you for choosing her. Then she’ll remain calm and silent as one of our artistic Brothers tattoos your chosen mark on her.”

Something in his voice, and the beatific expression on his face, chills my icy blood even further. His eyes hold the light of a fanatic. A True Believer.

Kneeling at my feet. Kissing my hand.

Again, that dark desire rears its head. The unspoken thing I shouldn’t want. Just for a second, I let myself picture it. Moments ago, I’d been ready to do anything for the Brotherhood, and now they want to grant me this, too. Ownership of a woman. The darkest desire of my soul, exposed.

I ball my hands into fists, dispelling the image.

“What if I refuse? If I just don’t do it?”

Kendrick frowns, disappointed. “Well, Gabriel, I’d have thought you’d have worked that out by now. If you refuse, we’ll kill you.”