Chapter 7
ELLIE
Ifidget with the sleeves of the oversized cloak as I stand on the front porch of Dominic’s father’s house.
It feels strange to be here, like two different worlds are colliding. I can’t fully articulate my emotions with words, but it’s as though I’m at a precipice, balancing on the very tip of a serrated knife. One wrong move will send me toppling head over feet, down, down, down…
Dominic presses his hand to the small of my back.
“Breathe, Ellie,” he reminds me, his gravelly voice doing wonders to soothe my frayed nerves.
“I’m breathing,” I counter immediately. And then add, “Sort of. Kind of. Probably. God, I can’t believe we’re doing this again.
” I glance down at the cloak all Paragon of Prosperity members are required to wear.
It practically dwarfs my small frame, obscuring my curves from view.
Hopefully, it’ll make me unrecognizable, just another masked face in a sea of depraved monsters.
Dom’s platinum hair glistens in the moonlight, cascading around his face in loose waves. It’s gotten longer in the last few months, though I can’t say it looks bad on him. Quite the opposite, actually.
“I know. But we’re taking precautions. Everything will be okay.”
I’m unsure if he’s trying to convince me or himself.
We can’t sneak any weapons in—not with the amount of security we need to pass through.
Though we could wear a small camera, it’s not a risk any of us are willing to take.
We do have trackers, though I’m not sure if they’ll even make it past security.
Right now, our goal is to have the others sneak through the employee entrance and join us.
My ribs strain painfully. The air suddenly feels unbearably heavy, like the breath wants to be pulled straight from my lungs. Despite the temperature dipping to dangerous levels, I feel incredibly hot, my skin flushed.
This has to work.
It has to.
The front door opens. Immediately, Dom and I stand at attention, shifting to face his father.
But he’s not alone.
Standing beside him, his expression solemn, is Dominic’s half brother and the person who may have saved my life.
Doyle.
I still have no idea why he warned Dominic that I’d been put up for sale.
Did he want to help us?
Lead us into a trap?
And how did he even see the list? Was he…? Was he buying someone? Fuck, the mere prospect makes me nauseated, my stomach roiling.
Doyle’s expression is entirely unreadable as he glides forward, moving to stand at his father’s side. He ignores me completely, keeping his focus straight ahead, just above Dominic’s shoulder.
Harvey grins from ear to ear.
“Son. Ellie. I’m happy you could finally take the time to join me. I know you’ve been busy with school and…erm…funeral arrangements. I’m grateful we could finally arrange something.”
Dominic’s father is an older man, handsome in a way that comes with age and consistent grooming. I can easily see Dominic in him, from the platinum-blond hair to the emerald-green eyes. But their similarities end there.
Dom could never be as cold and cruel as Harvey.
“I thought Doyle would want to come with us this time around.” Harvey slaps a hand on his older son’s shoulder, though Doyle doesn’t react to it. He continues to stare impassively ahead, his lips compressed in a taut line.
“Of course,” Dominic says diplomatically. He pulls me even closer to him, until my side is flush against his. “Thank you for inviting us, Father.”
Harvey’s smile sharpens, oddly resembling a shark in water circling a clump of raw meat. “Shall we head out?”
We move toward the limo idling in the driveway and slip into the back seat. My heart is pounding erratically in my chest, and my stomach is making a vigorous attempt to displace my lungs.
Why can’t I breathe?
“Drink?” Harvey leans over to open a mini fridge as the limo pulls away. I know for a fact that there’s a tracker hidden somewhere in this vehicle, courtesy of my guys, though I have no idea where. They’d never let me go otherwise.
As it is, I imagine they’re pulling at their hair and pacing holes in the carpet.
“No, thank you,” Dominic refuses.
“Ellie?” Harvey asks.
Wordlessly, I shake my head.
Before Harvey can even ask Doyle, the younger man reaches for a bottle of bourbon, pops the top, and downs it in a few chugs.
Dominic and I watch him with wide eyes.
Harvey simply grins, seemingly unconcerned with his son’s erratic behavior.
We drive for over an hour, an unnatural silence permeating the limo. I have no idea where we’re going, but the houses and shops gradually transition into rows of meticulously groomed trees. The asphalt morphs into dirt as we veer off the main road and onto a side street.
“Masks,” Harvey reminds us as the limo begins to slow.
With shaky hands, I grab the gold-edged mask he hands me, securing it on my face. The weight is unbearably heavy, almost like cement, but I know it’s just my overactive imagination working against me. With shaky hands, I pull my hood up, making sure every wispy strand of brown hair is hidden away.
Dom gives my knee a reassuring squeeze as the limo pulls to a stop. All of us wait for an attendant to open the door for us. Harvey slips out without a word of thanks, and I move to follow him. Right before I exit, however, I hear Dom whisper to Doyle, “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t talk to me,” Doyle hisses back, his voice laced with vitriol. “I never should have helped you.”
Before Dom can inquire further, Doyle pushes past him—and consequently me—to exit the vehicle and stand by his father. I stumble slightly, but Dom is there, keeping me steady.
“You okay?” He squeezes me for a second before reluctantly releasing me.
“What do you think Doyle meant by that?” I ask, keeping my voice soft.
I wish I could see Dominic’s expression, but that damn mask makes it impossible. “I have no idea, but I don’t like it. Stay alert, always, and don’t leave my side.”
“Never,” I promise. Then, because I’m nervous, I babble, “I meant, I’ll never leave your side. Not that I won’t stay alert. I mean—fuck. I’m going to stop talking now.”
Dom brushes his pinkie against mine, the lightest of touches, before pulling away.
We move to join Harvey and Doyle in silence.
Fear skates up my spine and knots in my throat as I stare up, up, up at our destination for the evening.
A sleek architectural marvel rises from the dense greenery—all glass, black steel, and sharp angles, gleaming like a monolith in the filtered moonlight. Trees press close to the perimeter, their canopies towering above, but the building itself remains unfazed, lit from within like a jewel box.
Outside, a looping driveway of dark stone winds through the trees. Luxury vehicles purr in—sleep black limos, glossy sports cars, and antique Rolls-Royce, all immaculate, all moving with almost choreographed timing. Guests pour out, chatting animatedly, dressed in masks and cloaks.
It’s fucking terrifying.
My ribs squeeze my heart like a vise as I follow the flow of the crowd through security—more excessive than the TSA, though they never once ask us to remove our masks or cloaks.
Anonymity is a staple of the Paragons of Prosperity, after all.
Then we’re inside.
I thought I would be able to breathe easier once I made it through security, but I was wrong. God, my chest feels tight. Too tight.
Did the other guys make it in? Were they even able to?
I know Zane snuck in before, but how did he do that?
Did he kill someone and steal their identity?
Would they be able to do it again? How would I even know if they’re here?
Landon mentioned a way for us to be able to identify each other, but I suddenly can’t remember what he said. Something about a sticker—
“Breathe,” Dom reminds me yet again, his voice soft.
“Something doesn’t feel right.” I barely move my mouth, not wanting anyone to overhear me.
“Do you think my bastard of a father knows?” He moves even closer to me, as if he’s prepared to dive over me if it means saving my life.
“No.” I’m almost positive that Harvey isn’t aware of what The Divine One did when she put me up for sale. He would’ve tried to kidnap me months ago. But Doyle knew—knows. Who did he tell? How did he find out?
And why did he snap that he never should’ve helped us?
A seed of panic takes root, and my neck prickles. I don’t necessarily believe that I’m in danger, but there’s a voice in my head telling me that something very, very bad is about to happen.
“Something isn’t right,” I repeat, sucking in a scorching breath.
We continue to follow the flow of members through the ornate entryway and into a large room. I try my damnedest to ignore the residual panic coursing beneath my skin.
Maybe I’m just being paranoid.
Maybe I’m too high-strung.
Maybe—
“Oh my god,” Dom breathes, his feet stilling.
Doyle sucks in a sharp breath from the other side of me.
The audience parts slightly, allowing me to see the newest art exhibit in this house of horrors.
It’s a man and woman, though they’ve been mutilated so completely that it’s difficult to tell for sure. Their bodies have been skinned and meshed together, their arms sewed around each other’s waists in an intimate embrace, a patchwork of pink and bright red. But their heads…
Their heads are familiar, their mouths open in abject horror, even though their eyes have been plucked from their skulls, leaving behind empty sockets.
Dana and Dustin—Dom’s stepmom and half brother.
Harvey claps his hand down on Doyle’s shoulder. “I told you there would be consequences.” His dark baritone voice cuts through my flesh, sharper than any blade is capable of. “I don’t know what you did to upset The Divine One, but just be lucky you’re not up there as well.”