Wicked Stalker (Captives of the Onyx Brotherhood #1)

Seven

Gabriel

Oh, FUCK no.

I’ve been busy all day, interviewing a replacement for my assistant, who suddenly handed in his resignation. Training someone new is going to be a major hassle.

Everyone who enters the Compound is ruthlessly vetted, so the interviews themselves have to happen off-site. I spent eight long, dull hours sipping coffee and deciding between six men, all years older than me, to trust with my most important work.

By the time I returned to the Compound, I was exhausted. I ordered a burger to my room and settled back to catch up on the highlights of Eve’s day. Now, my food sits cold, and fury like I’ve never known fills me as my fingers fly over the keyboard.

He’ll pay for this.

First, I fix her Instagram account, deleting the picture and setting it so she has control of it again. Nothing I can do about anyone who saved the picture to their own devices. Next, I spend a few heartbreaking minutes looking through Eve's messages for the day, most with her family. Her mother quickly shoots to the top of my shit list.

MOM: I knew you’d behave like a whore at that school. You’re dead to me, and to this family.

She ignored all of Eve’s desperate protests. Fucking fundamentalist bitch.

I check on Eve. Billie has things well under control. They’re curled up under a blanket, eating something that looks like a mixing bowl full of chocolate, various jelly sweets, and ice cream. A bottle of wine sits open on the table. Good. I might have to find some way to reward that girl for looking after my Eve.

Finally, I take a deep breath and set my sights on Cole.

Don’t rush. Take your time. Just like I did with all the assholes who used to kick the shit out of me at school. Quick revenge is fun, but playing the long game is much more satisfying.

Just last month, I discovered Brad Prentice—who once fractured my rib with a kick—was having an affair. Now his wife knows too, and the divorce should prove nicely expensive. Especially right on the heels of the invasive tax audit he went through last year.

Take another breath.

I open the program that gives me access to Cole’s phone, and my suspicions are proved correct immediately. I find messages with his single-brain-celled friends, bragging how he showed the “frigid bitch” who was boss.

Oh, Cole. Big mistake. No-one talks about my girl like that.

I set to work. First, I pull out everything I need to prove beyond all doubt that he is to blame for the fake picture. I hack his Insta and post it there, with an apology and a heartfelt confession that his own impotence and inability to perform in the bedroom made him act foolishly. Then I lock him out of it so securely it’ll be there for all his future girlfriends to read, forever.

Next, I track down Parker U’s most generous backers. Creating clone accounts, I send several furious emails to the Dean, detailing their disgust at the abhorrent behavior of a student and demanding his immediate expulsion. He’ll be gone by the morning, his football scholarship a thing of the past.

Finally, I find all the nastiest messages and pictures Cole has on his phone, package them up, and send the whole lot to his mother.

Fuck you, Cole.

I microwave the cold burger. I could ditch it and order a fresh one, but old habits die hard. I can’t bring myself to throw out perfectly good food, a habit conditioned into me by my parents, just like all the hang-ups my poor Eve obviously has about sex.

More investigation is required.

After checking on the girls, who are now more than halfway through their wine and laughing together over something, I dive deeper into Eve’s past. She barely posts anything on her socials, and after seeing how her bitch mother treats her, it makes sense. I dig deeper.

I find a flurry of posts on a site called fundie-escapees.net, most from around eighteen months ago, when she first left for college. It’s an old-fashioned chat board, with design and functionality straight out of the early 2000s, but the content is eye-opening.

I smile at Eve’s username. NewlyMintedAtheist. Clever. She posted, tentatively at first, about what she experienced at the hands of her mother—her dad, it seems, left when she was a baby—and her struggles adapting to the world.

She talks about how grateful she was that her mom had to work and couldn’t homeschool her. School became her escape, the one good thing in her life, and she made getting to college her one mission.

Even after she escaped, though, Eve still had issues. She felt guilty every time she swore. She found herself judging other girls for their clothing choices, her mother’s voice loud in the back of her mind every time she saw someone in a short skirt or a low-cut top. And she still found herself skipping past the sex scenes in movies and books.

She didn’t go into detail, but she alluded to “brutal punishments” from her mother if the queen bitch even thought she glanced at a boy. Eve’s mother was convinced, for some bizarre reason, that Eve would turn into a sex-crazed slut. And she piled so much shame into Eve’s young brain that she’s never been able to get past it.

Gradually, Eve’s flood of posts turn to a trickle. I check on the girls one last time and find Eve asleep on the sofa. Billie clears away the dishes, throws a blanket over her, and heads up to bed.

Jesus fucking Christ, she’s beautiful. Looking at her sleeping body, a savage sort of tenderness swamps me. I could make it all better. With me, she wouldn’t have the option of shyness or shame. I’d get her addicted to pleasure, rip away every hang-up, and have her crawling to me, begging me to fuck her.

I could do it. If only I had more time.

** *

“No.” The word reverberates around Kendrick’s wood-paneled office and lodges deep in my chest. The man himself frowns at me, lips thin.

“You’ve had over a year, Gabriel. This is ridiculous.”

Ridiculous. As if we’re not already discussing the permanent capture and subjugation of a woman.

“You must have a Ward by the marking ceremony. No exceptions.”

I take a deep breath and search for words that might persuade him. “Sir, when we last discussed this, you said it can be a noble tradition. Eve is perfect. She’s highly intelligent and driven, and her skills are likely to be wasted in the outside world. She’ll be the perfect Ward. But she's too young.”

It’s taken me four days to get a meeting with Kendrick. Four busy days spent training my new assistant and watching Eve in all my spare hours. I have a niggling feeling she’s not safe. The more I watch her, the riskier it feels having her walk around in the open world unprotected. Anything could happen to her.

Kendrick steeples his hands on the table. “I understand you’re taken with her. But the rules are there for a reason. A more mature woman might be better suited.”

“I don’t want anyone else!” The words burst out before I can moderate myself, and Kendrick’s eyebrow lifts. From him, that's practically a gasp of horror.

Get it the fuck together. You sound like a teenager.

“Sorry, sir. What I mean to say is, she’s the most suitable candidate I’ve found. The only issue is her age.”

“And it’s a major issue. We only have three requirements, Gabriel. Unmarried, no children, and over the age of twenty-one. This ceremony will be your third since joining the Brotherhood. It’s your last chance. ”

A chill creeps through my bones. My last chance, in the most final way possible. If I fail to appear at the ceremony, or appear without a trained, compliant Ward, it’s all over. The Gilda—the private militia employed by the Brotherhood at brain-melting cost—will hunt me down and end me.

I saw it happen. At the first ceremony I attended, one Ward panicked and ran for the doors. The Gilda struck, dragging her Brother out of the room. I never saw the man again.

“She’ll be twenty-one before the ceremony, Sir. Her birthday is two weeks before my initiation.”

Kendrick’s brow climbs a millimeter higher. True astonishment. “In that case, why are we having this conversation?”

I churn the words around in my head for as long as possible, not daring to ask Kendrick for clarification, but they still don’t make sense. Eventually, I bite the bullet. “Sir?”

His frown deepens. “Two weeks is a short time, but if she’s worth it, you’ll make it work. Be strict, and train her firmly. My own Alyssa came to me just three weeks before my ceremony.”

He glances at the framed photograph on his wall as he says it. A much younger Kendrick and a beautiful woman smile for the camera. They look like a happy couple on their honeymoon, not captor and captive.

The wrongness of it hits me all at once. A savage punch to the gut. I picture Eve and Billie laughing together. Am I really going to take her away from that? From her life?

But then another image replaces it. Eve at my feet, her head resting on my thigh and her eyes hazy, drunk on the pleasure I’ve introduced her to.

Christ, I want her.

Kendrick’s gaze bores into me. His office isn’t the appropriate place for an existential crisis of conscience. Asking for an extension was obviously a waste of time, and all my continued presence will do is annoy him.

“Of course. Thank you, sir.”

He gives a slow nod. “Whatever decision you make, please make it quickly. I’d hate to lose a promising young man such as yourself. How is your new assistant working out so far?”

I blink, thrown by the topic change. How did he know about that? Does he really keep a mental record of such minor details? “Very good so far. Today is attempt number eighty. I’m hoping to see positive progress.”

Kendrick waves a hand, dismissive. “It’s early days for such a daring endeavor. Don’t fall into the trap of believing Rome ought to be built in a day. I have no doubt you’ll get there with time.”

The reason I love the Brotherhood.

The rest of the day passes in a blur as I prepare for experiment eighty. It’s a Saturday, but such things have no meaning here. Work happens when it needs to. My new assistant, Wally, is a little nervous but keeps his focus as we triple-check all our preparations. Then check them again. And again.

I hit the button, activating the experiment, and my heart gives its usual hopeful squeeze. After all the preparation, the moment itself is as anticlimactic as ever. Just the push of a button, then a moment of silence. Did I just change the future of quantum physics, or is experiment eighty as big of a failure as the rest of them?

I check the readings. My body freezes up, my heart stuttering. I read the information slowly, then call Wally over. He’s a small man with a bald head and a bushy beard. His spectacles slip to the bottom of his nose as he stares at the screen, then looks back at me, eyes wide.

I did it .

I’ve teleported matter for the very first time in human history.

I punch the air and let out a mad, wild cry. Joy surges through me, and I feel like I could jump and hit the ceiling. Like I could fucking fly through it. Life will change forever. And it’s all because of me.

Three hours later, I’m sitting at a bar with Jacob and Sebastian, another Brother I’m friendly with. He looks every inch the posh kid he is, dressed in some sort of designer suit and flashing a watch that keeps getting admiring glances. I don’t know what it is; I don’t bother with a watch. My phone tells time just fine.

We make an odd group. Preppy Seb, me in my usual black, and Jacob looming over both of us. People probably think he’s Seb’s bodyguard or something. I spent the day buried in my work, going over my results, until they dragged me out to celebrate.

Word of my success spread through the Compound instantly, and even Kendrick dropped by the lab to congratulate me. He also gave me a dire warning to triple-lock all the data. If we do have a Calder spy in the Compound, my discovery will be right at the top of their hit list.

The bar is getting busy already, everyone getting ready for their Saturday night. I didn’t think we’d get a table, but of course Seb whispered a few words to the waitress, and the next minute, we were escorted into the VIP section. I have to get him to teach me how to do that.

The crowd in here is young and loud, and the music is at a point where it’s difficult to talk. Jacob takes a huge swig of beer and glares at Seb. “Why did you pick this place? It’s full of wankers, and the music’s fucking shit. ”

I can’t disagree, but his blunt attitude still makes me laugh. Seb rolls his eyes. “It’s the hottest place around. And check out the eye candy.”

Two giggling blondes in dresses that look sprayed on stumble past, making his point.

“Not like we can do anything about it,” Jacob grumbles.

As Brothers, we’re to remain chaste until we take our Ward. Seb and Jacob joined later than me and still have nine months to go until their initiation, six months after mine.

“Only a few months till you can get your girl,” Seb says. “You’ve had her picked out for how long now?”

“Four months, but I’m not planning on rushing things. When I take her, I’ll do it right. And what about you? You’ve been very quiet on the topic.”

Seb waves a vague hand. “I’m considering my options.”

They both look at me, expectantly. I take a sip of my beer, but my hand twitches toward my phone. Eve and Billie are going out tonight. A big night out at some new club popular with the students. I don’t like it. What if someone tries to get it on with her? Anger seeps into me at the very idea. They’d better not.

My friends are still waiting for me to speak. I pull out my phone with a dramatic flourish. “Speaking of my girl, I need to check on her.”

I can feel their judgment. Both of them, separately and together, have tried to talk me out of my obsession with Eve. They want me to choose a safer option, someone I can take now. Not two weeks before my fucking ceremony.

The tracker on Eve’s phone shows me she’s on Kemper Street, in a club called Intensity. I check her messages and freeze when I see one, unread, in her inbox. It’s from a random number, but the content tells me who it is.

Fucking Cole.

UNKNOWN: You bitch. I know it was you. Don’t think I’ll let you get away with fucking up my life, cunt.

Two hours ago. She hasn’t read it, too busy having fun. She doesn’t know she’s in danger.

Seb and Jacob are speaking, but I can’t hear them as I shoot to my feet and pull up Cole’s phone. One message leaps out at me, a single word that raises every hair on my body.

One hour ago.

COLE: Ready.