Chapter Twenty-Four #2
I notice Amelie frowning already and wonder if she’ll manage to make it through the entire evening without mouthing off. Unlikely.
“I wish to congratulate you all on completing this year’s obstacle course!
As many of you will know, in previous years, it has not always been the case that everyone has finished.
Now, before we continue, we would like to invite all of the women in the room to leave. Your cocktail lounge awaits you.”
Amelie goes to stand, but Sawyer stops her with a gentle hand and a shake of his head. A moment later when the other women have left, the board members continue their speeches.
“Indeed,” a second old guy with grey hair and too much paunch joins in. “We are incredibly impressed with this year’s potential candidates. We’ve never had such a good turn out, or such a strong finish. We almost wish we could initiate you all into the family.”
Cue polite laughter, staged. We all know that’s never going to happen. The Order runs on prestige, even the criminal element is incredibly selective. They can’t just let anyone in.
“Family?” Amelie hisses to Sawyer, loud enough for the entire table to hear. Onyx scowls at her and our father shoots a warning look at Sawyer, almost demanding he keep Amelie quiet. I bite back a snort. Like that’s going to happen.
“Sssh, I’ll explain later,” he whispers back.
Amazingly, she listens to him and turns back to old guy number...I’ve lost count. Who’s speaking now?
“Alas, be that as it may, we have to cull the Rucks and invite a small, exclusive, number of you to become formal pledges.”
“Sounds like a frat initiation,” Amelie snickers quietly under her breath, making me smile.
“Sssh.”
“The following Rucks will not be progressing forward within The Order and are invited to leave immediately.” I hate this part.
It’s fucking savage if you ask me, but that’s how we work.
“Limber, Cox, Westcock, Cockburn, Matthews, Atlanti, Triggs, Baudelaire, Beaumont, and J. Dylan, you all need to leave. Just to clarify, F. Dylan, you are remaining on the program.”
A quiet murmur breaks out around the room as the rejected get to their feet and hastily leave the room, faces flaming, heads bowed. As soon as old guy number...three? clears his throat, we all fall silent again.
“Congratulations to those who made it…” He pauses for a second and I know this is where the sponsors will expect a round of applause, but they’re in for a rude awakening.
Very little gets praised in this organisation.
“Moving on to the results; the part you've all been waiting for. Sir Knox, would you like the honour?”
Ridiculous question. Grandfather always announces the scores, times and points.
He is the most powerful member of the board, but also the most jumped up.
Sir. It’s one thing to get us kids calling him that, another thing entirely to expect his so-called equals to.
Still, he wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.
“Why thank you. First, the award for today’s fastest time. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, but he did in fact beat his personal best. Please give a round of applause to Onyx...Knox.”
The room breaks out into applause as Onyx takes to his feet, waves in thanks and promptly sits back down.
His cheeks are tinged pink. He may be competitive as fuck, but he hates the attention and accolades.
I think I’m the only person in the room who noticed Grandfather’s slight hesitation before calling Onyx a Knox.
I’m fairly sure Grandfather disapproves of our father adopting us.
We all know Kalen – true blood – is his favourite.
“Now, for the highest scoring family.” Grandfather pauses dramatically and opens a golden envelope like he’s at the BAFTAs or the OSCARs or something.
I catch Kalen’s eye and he grins. “With the highest number of points, beating the team in second place by over 1500 points, with a winning score of 37,000 points...is team Knox!” He beams as the room claps again, less enthusiastically this time.
Pretty sure they’re sick of us wiping the floor with them.
The only ones who can beat us are the Bransons, but Baxter didn’t compete this year for some reason.
Pretty sure he’s bullshitting about an injury or something.
“Now, on to the final award of the evening, the individual with the most points accrued. With an outstanding 8,765 individual points is...” There’s a stunned sharp intake of breath.
That’s high. Higher than any of us got last year.
I watch Grandfather open the envelope, read the name, and frown.
He passes the card inside to the other old guys who all blink in shock.
They step back from the microphone and huddle in a tight circle, heads bent, backs to the crowd.
A curious, nervous sort of whisper spreads across the room until Grandfather resumes his position.
“My, my. This is most unprecedented! For the first time ever, the highest individual points scorer is not only not from the winning family...” We all exchange surprised glances. “They’re a Ruck.”
Like wildfire, gossip breaks out at a much less respectable level. Grandfather doesn’t even try to curb it; he seems that shell-shocked. My gaze cuts to Bastian, the bastard I can’t stand who tried to break Amelie’s fingers. He’s preening like a peacock, convinced it’s him. Christ, I hope it isn’t.
“It would seem that tonight is a night for a great many firsts. As you all know, this is our first year inviting females...well, a single guinea pig female...to attempt to join us. I did not think we would find anyone worthy, and I am still not convinced that we have.” I grind my teeth at Grandfather’s thinly veiled insult.
Onyx looks ready to leap out of his seat and punch him.
Even our father looks pissed. “But nonetheless, she is still with us. And, apparently, if there was no foul play involved – and believe me, I will launch a full investigation to check – she’s the winner of the highest number of individual points. Miss Amelie Luna Rossi.”
No one claps. For a beat there’s a stunned silence, and then Kalen leaps to his feet whooping and cheering, and we all join in, descending on Amelie, hugging her and patting her on the back. She just looks pissed. And confused. But mostly pissed.
“I moved up the timeline,” she hisses in my ear when I lean in to hug her again. “You start explaining. Tonight.”
“This concludes tonight’s award’s ceremony.
” Old guy one steps forward to pry the mic from Grandfather’s frozen fingers.
He’s definitely in shock. Or having a stroke.
“Families, your payment to the winning family has been automatically updated as we speak. The Knox family will be in touch. Now please, enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Immediately everyone gets to their feet and starts to mingle. A large proportion of the room makes a beeline for the bar, where the wives sit around looking bored. Amelie glares at all of us.
“I want a drink,” she says.
“I’ll go,” Kalen offers.
“No. In my room. Now. All of you.”
She doesn’t have a clue how fucking sexy it is when she takes charge like that.
Does she realise she’s a born leader? Her tone makes my dick hard, and I groan as I try to readjust myself so that I can leave the room without embarrassing myself.
Kalen catches my eye and grins. He too is sporting some serious wood, but he doesn’t give a fuck enough to try to hide it.
Our Father pulls Sawyer to one side – no doubt giving him strict instructions on what we can and cannot reveal to Amelie – and silently we all follow her out of the room, like her own personal band of merry men.