Chapter 4
FOUR
Dmitry
There’s a special place in hell for men like me.
Tonight, Aleksei is holding a meeting of the Griffin Society. I pressed a few discreet cards into the hands of some of the people I met at Friday night’s party. Callista and I haven’t made contact since then, but I’ve been using my drone to check up on her activities.
She pleasured herself after the gala. She gave me a good show like she promised, baring her pussy and grinding her pretty fingers into her tight cunt. The drone couldn’t get a perfect shot but I saw enough.
And now I want to taste that cunt, too. I want to feel her pussy juices running down my chin as I eat her out and make her come. I want to slurp up her arousal as I grind my tongue against her aching clit, reminding her that I own her. That I’m the one who makes her body ache and yearn at night.
I swallow, watching the last bit of footage from the drone. I’ve watched it fifty times at least. But this is my favorite part.
When her back arches on the bed, and she says, “Yes, Daddy. Please. Tell me I’ve been a good girl. You should praise me more.”
I didn’t know why she was pissed off at me at the gala, but now I do. She wanted me to praise her. For being a good little submissive.
Stalking her is the only way I have of infiltrating her mind, her psyche. It’s how I find out her deepest needs, and make sure I can use them to my advantage. I had no idea that Ms. Golden Girl had a praise kink and a desire to be dominated.
Looks like I’m not the only one who is into kinky sex. She’s hiding more than I imagined under that mask.
That intrigues me more. I haven’t been inside her room in two days, and I can’t go tonight, either, because I’ll have to go home with Aleksei after the meeting. He’ll ask questions if I don’t, and I can’t have my brothers finding out about my fucked-up hobby.
The old Allister library is quiet at night. Its gothic arches swallow sound, its stained-glass windows catch the moonlight in cold fragments. Most students think it closes at midnight. They never notice the east wing light flicker after hours.
That’s where we meet.
Aleksei walks beside me through the narrow hallway. His face is half covered by a black hood, the bottom half visible, all sharp jaw and stubble. He prefers mystery to disguise. Power, not secrecy.
“You’re quiet,” he says as we approach the oak door that leads to the restricted archives. “Something on your mind?”
“Nothing,” I say, though it isn’t true. My thoughts are full of Callista—her defiance at the gala, her voice trembling when she challenged me, the way it made me want to break her pride just to see what lay underneath.
Aleksei studies me for a beat, but he doesn’t press. “Keep your focus tonight. The new recruits need to believe you more than they believe themselves.”
Inside, the library’s lower hall is lit by a ring of candles. The long tables are gone, replaced by a single iron lectern at the center. Shadows crawl up the vaulted ceiling.
Everyone wears a cloak. Faces hidden, voices kept low. The Society isn’t a club. It’s an oath.
I pull my mask down into place before stepping into the circle. Aleksei remains in the corner, arms crossed, observing like an overseer. I am the one who speaks.
Five students wait before me, all of them talented and desperate. They were at the finance gala. I watched them watch me. They’re brilliant at numbers, but buried in debt. Their futures hang on the chance to be chosen.
“Welcome,” I say, voice carrying through the hall. “You’ve been invited because you see beyond what’s ordinary. You understand the world doesn’t reward honesty. It rewards precision, risk, and loyalty.”
A ripple of unease moves through them. Curiosity wins.
One of them, a boy named Carter, swallows hard. “What is this place?”
“A way out,” I tell him. “A way forward.”
They exchange glances. I let the silence build before I go on.
“You owe money. You owe time. The Society erases debt. In return, you dedicate your skill to something greater. You will have tasks—projects that use your talents. They’re demanding.
They will test you. But you’ll never worry about tuition or rent again. ”
Another student, a girl with bright eyes and bitten nails, asks, “Who runs this Society?”
“You’ll know what you need to know,” I reply. “Knowledge here is earned. Obedience comes first.”
They lean in, hunger already shaping their expressions. It isn’t greed I see. It’s relief. Someone finally offering them purpose.
“Will we be paid?” Carter asks.
“You’ll be compensated,” I say. “Enough to live well. Enough to prove your worth.”
“And what happens if we want to leave?” another voice asks from the back.
“You won’t,” I tell them simply. “Once you join, the Society becomes part of you. You stay until you graduate. You work, you learn, you earn.”
Silence again. Then nods. Acceptance. Desperation looks like faith in the right lighting.
Aleksei steps forward, his presence cutting through the air. He places a small, leather-bound book on the lectern. Inside, a page filled with names written in careful ink.
“Step forward,” I say. “One at a time.”
Each recruit approaches. They place a hand on the page and speak the words we require:
“I pledge loyalty to the Griffin Society. I will serve its cause, keep its secrets, and follow its guidance without question. I will protect my brothers and sisters in this circle, and I will never betray them.”
When the last voice fades, the candles gutter and flare again. The room smells of wax and smoke and adrenaline.
“Welcome to the Society,” I tell them. “Your new lives begin tonight.”
The students exchange looks of awe, fear, excitement. Aleksei meets my eyes across the flickering light, his mouth a straight line. He knows this is more than recruitment. It’s indoctrination.
As the new members file out to receive their assignments, I stay behind, staring at the ledger. Five new names. Five new pieces on the board. Five new people who will help with our finances in a year, bringing us a wealth of cash and benefits.
I can retire some of the men who are too old to understand or use new technology, the old Russian soliders that my dad recruited in his time. They’re not efficient, nor do they understand hacking, laundering, cryptocurrency, or the need for technology and strategy.
I need people who will be useful. And the best part is that this is just the beginning. I can find more people like them, and it’s all thanks to my fake girlfriend.
Looks like fake dating Callista Vale wasn’t for nothing after all.