Chapter 9 Protectors
Chapter Nine
Protectors
Jack drained the last of his bourbon and moved to the dressing room, where his evening clothes had been laid out with customary precision. Loosening his collar, he methodically opened his shirt and tossed it aside.
Lean muscle wrapped his frame, the result of discipline rather than conceit. Violence contained in stillness. A predator groomed as prey to move in silence.
His gaze avoided the mirror, not needing to see the battle scars in order to remember the wars he’d won any more than he needed vanity to validate his security.
He pulled on a crisp, fresh shirt just as there was a knock at the door. He took his time fastening the buttons before emerging from the dressing room and answering, “Come.”
Stone Volkov entered the suite like a force of nature, crossing the threshold with the easy confidence of a man who owned every inch of the ground beneath his feet.
“J, Nick said you were getting settled.” He was the secondborn of the three brothers, and by far the most attentive to detail. “Need anything?”
“Just finishing up.”
Stone leaned a broad shoulder against the wall, his intense green eyes sweeping the room before settling on Jack. “The room’s to your liking?”
“Room’s great.” Jack reached for his vest, shrugging into the charcoal wool and fastening the buttons with practiced efficiency. “Everything’s exceptional, as always.”
“Ash insisted on some upgrades. Something about thread counts and ambient lighting.” Stone stretched his arms with the casual grace of a wild bear slowly waking. “That’s his territory. His and Marigold’s.”
Jack grinned, still processing the shock that the three bears were finally settling down. “Good to hear you’re all getting along.”
Stone’s expression softened. “She’s tucked away for the weekend.” His mouth curved into a wolfish grin that was both a smile and a threat. “We’ll be on rotation, keeping her... occupied.”
“I imagine she has opinions about being sequestered.”
“Many.” Stone laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. “But she understands. The Feast isn’t the kind of event anyone should stumble into blindly.”
“Indeed.” Jack fastened his cufflinks—simple onyx, no flash—and reached for his jacket. “She seems good for you. All of you.”
“She is.” No hesitation. No deflection. “I didn’t think it was possible, J.”
“Neither did I.”
Another chuckle. “Three men, one woman—the logistics alone should have destroyed us. But she...” He shook his head. “She understands how deep our bond goes. Doesn’t try to separate us or compete for attention. She just... fits.”
“I’m happy for you.” He meant it. Finding someone so accepting was extraordinary, so rare Jack gave up hope a long time ago. Like him, the Volkov brothers carried their own dark secrets from a shared shadowy past. If Marigold found a way to brighten their life, she was worth protecting.
“You could have the same, you know.” Stone’s gaze turned appraising. “You don’t have to stay cooped up in this room all weekend. There are over sixty does this year—”
“Those numbers will change. They always do.”
Stone waved away that detail. “Fifty. Still plenty to go around.”
“Not my kind of game.”
“It doesn’t have to be a game. Surely one or two of the applications caught your eye. We could pull a few before the Wrecking Ball, send them privately to your room for some…entertainment.” He arched a brow.
“Not my style.” He adjusted his lapels and straightened the signet ring on his finger. “I prefer to observe.”
Stone barked out a laugh. “Voyeurism then. Whatever works.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “A voyeur watches for pleasure. I watch for patterns.” He moved toward the door and Stone fell into step behind him.
“You are a strange man, J. Thorne.” He rolled the R of his name in that thick Russian accent. “You throw a party that would make Caligula blush, fill it with the wealthiest degenerates in Europe, and then spend the whole night watching from the shadows like some kind of interloper.”
Jack paused and met Stone’s gaze. “Caligula was a Roman emperor, infamous for cruelty and excess, the poster boy for ‘anything goes.’ I assure you, that’s not me.”
They moved through the corridors of The Preserve, past tapestries depicting hunting scenes frozen in eternal pursuit.
The security wing occupied the eastern corner of The Preserve, accessible only through a series of reinforced doors that responded to biometric scans.
Stone aligned his face with the camera and the door unlocked with an airtight, mechanical shift.
With each locked entry point, the structure shifted more from Gothic grandeur to modern efficiency. “Once we get a scan of your eyes, we’ll set you up with access.”
“I’m sure my computer will work just fine.”
“Damn, you’re a private fuck, J. Let us show off our cool new toys.”
“Fine.” He didn’t mean to offend. But he knew himself. Once things were properly underway, he preferred to stay out of the chaos.
Stone led him through another biometrically sealed door, this one leading to the heart of the security wing.
Hunter looked up from the monitors filling the wall, his massive frame silhouetted against the blue glow. “J.” His scarred face remained impassive.
Jack gave a firm nod. “Hunter.”
“Ready to walk through the upgrades?”
Jack moved closer, taking in the wall of monitors with practiced assessment. The feeds shifted and flickered, each one offering a different view of the grounds, clearly displaying the gardens, the hedgerows, and the many winding paths that would soon be filled.
“Six hundred cameras,” Hunter said, voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. “All motion-sensing. If a feed goes black, it means nothing’s moving. The second there’s activity, it kicks on. No blind spots. No dead zones. And we have the ability to override the sensory locks at any time.”
“Impressive.” Jack studied the crisp clarity of the images. “The resolution’s remarkable.”
“We just installed new updates last month. They’re always improving.
” Hunter pulled a tablet from the desk, used his finger to unlock the screen, and handed it to Jack.
“Scan this QR code with your phone then download the monitoring app. There’s only one limitation.
Family quarters are locked for internal use only. ”
“Of course.” Jack waited for the app to load on his screen. “I can view from anywhere?”
“Anywhere on the grounds. You’ll get up to six feeds at once on a single screen. And here—” Hunter tapped a menu on the tablet. “You can set personal notifications for specific zones. If you want to keep an eye on a particular area, the app will alert you whenever there’s movement.”
“The grotto,” Jack said immediately. “The northwest quadrant. And the hedge maze.”
“Done.” Hunter made the adjustments with surprising dexterity for a man with hands the size of bear paws.
The door behind them opened, admitting a man who moved with the coiled precision of special ops training.
“J, you remember Cole, our security director.”
“Of course. Good to see you again, Cole.”
Cole gave a subtle nod, his militant posture boasting hard-earned discipline as his sharp eyes swept the room.
“All yours,” Hunter said, standing with a stretch.
Cole settled into the abandoned seat and a blue screen flashed as he pressed several buttons. A woman—not Marigold—appeared on CAMERA 2, curled up with a book and a glass of wine.
Jack didn’t want to pry, but he believed the woman was Katya, sister to the three bears. “Little Bird is secure in her suite,” Cole said. “I did a physical sweep of her wing ten minutes ago.”
“Good. Marigold’s with Ash. Their feeds are dark for the next hour.”
“Understood.”
Hunter clapped Cole on the shoulder—a gesture that would have staggered a lesser man. “We’ll be in the dining hall if you need us. Radio if anything comes up.”
They left the security wing, their footsteps echoing against stone floors worn smooth by centuries of use.
The Preserve had been many things over the years—a monastery, a fortress, a hunting lodge for minor royalty—but the Volkovs had transformed it into a unique sanctuary for sin.
A temple of pleasure, where the wealthy could shed their civilized skin in favor of their more primal nature.
“I spoke to Vanessa this afternoon. Everything’s on schedule for the Wrecking Ball.” Stone said. “The tributes will be presented at eight tomorrow evening—masked, numbered, dressed to stun.”
“Good. The doctors should be wrapping up soon. Once we have the final numbers, we’ll know where we stand.”
“Excellent.” Stone pushed open the doors to the dining hall. “By tomorrow night, they won’t recognize themselves.”
That was the plan. Jack learned from personal experience that a fresh start had a way of speeding along the recovery process of a brutal past.
The first day tended to be the most trying for the tributes, but once they settled in and got some rest, they’d understand more about what was expected. The goal was to have them mentally and physically prepared by the end of The Becoming ceremony tomorrow evening.
The dining hall was a study in controlled extravagance and Gothic luxury. Tapestries depicting various hunts hung from the stone walls, a classic backdrop as servants silently moved in and out of the hall with flawless efficiency, laying out side dishes and filling glasses.
“Fucking starving,” Hunter said, as they filled the seats around the long, dark oak table set with crystal and silver that flickered in the candlelight.
Jack took his seat, pausing as a servant placed a napkin in his lap. “Thank you.”
The servant blinked, clearly unused to being acknowledged. “Sir.”
Another servant appeared with a basket of bread, and Jack nodded to her as well. “Thank you. It smells wonderful.”
Stone and Hunter exchanged glances but said nothing. They’d long since learned Jack’s peculiar habits when it came to staff. He never judged anyone by their station, said thank you when propriety demanded it, and remembered names whenever possible.
No one knew why he did such things. They didn’t know there would always be a dirt poor kid inside of him. That shouldn’t matter. Good people deserved respect. Bad people deserved justice.
The meal arrived in courses—seared scallops with champagne foam, followed by a consommé that tasted of earth and autumn, then a main of venison with blackberry reduction. Masculine fare, beautifully presented, designed to fuel rather than indulge.
Just after the main course was served, came a note from Nick, sealed and delivered on a silver tray.
“The numbers, I assume.” Stone lifted his glass and waited for the news.
Jack tore open the note and briefly skimmed. “Yes.”
“Where do we stand?”
“Fifty-two tributes confirmed and en route. Three didn’t show for transport.”
“Cold feet,” Hunter chuckled.
“And two that didn’t pass the physical.”
“Pity for them.”
“I’ll see that they’re compensated for their efforts.”
“Hold on,” Hunter said, in a thick Russian accent. “There were sixty-two tributes. You said three didn’t show and two didn’t pass the exams.”
“Yes. One was pregnant and the other drew some red flags during her psychiatric evaluation.”
“That should leave fifty-seven tributes, am I wrong?”
“Yes and no. Fifty-seven tributes, but only fifty-two does. Five are stags.”
“Ah,” the brothers said at once.
The majority of the hunters preferred women, but there were a few men who had other tastes. “Honestly, there should have been more stags. They typically walk away with the most profit.”
“The glory of being the rare find,” Hunter said with a chuckle.
“Sounds like you need more male tributes in the future,” Stone teased. “How many hunters?”
Jack grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. The thought of hosting another feast, once again, left him uninspired. “Fifty-four. We had a last minute cancellation.”
“Oh?” Stone’s green eyes sparked with interest. “Do tell.”
“Raphael de Saint-Clair,” Jack said flatly. “His invitation’s been permanently revoked.” Jack’s tone made it clear the subject of the Frenchman was closed.
“Fair enough.” Hunter did the math. “Fifty-four hunters at two million each—that’s a minimum of one hundred and eight million on the table—more if they come as hungry as they came last year.”
Jack made sure the tributes were compensated fairly for every exchange—doubly for the captures that took a greater toll. “They’re worth every cent.” He set down his fork.
The men met his stare and nodded in agreement. “We’ll take good care of them, J. We always do.”