Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
EMMETT
The girl that just bulldozed into my chest raises her head to look up at me and I'm momentarily stunned by the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re a light brown with specks of green, and I wonder what they’d look like peering up at me while my cock slides into her mouth and past her full, pouty lips. I immediately feel my cock start to harden in my pants.
Her small nose wrinkles with embarrassment as she quickly pulls back and looks up at me again. There's only one thought that runs through my brain as I look at her.
Mine .
She’s mine .
Like a beating drum, it repeats over and over.
Mine .
Mine .
Mine .
What the fuck? I pause for a moment, confused by the intense thoughts. I forcefully shove them to the back of my mind, replacing them with more comforting and familiar feelings.
Numbness . Rage .
Her big brown eyes peer up at me full of pity and I fucking hate it. Even if she did just drench me in coffee.
“ Oh shit… I am so sorry, I didn't even see you there. That was one hundred percent my fault. I’m so fucking sorry.” She tries to say calmly, but anxiousness washes over her entire face. If it wasn’t for the tremble in her hands to give away her nervousness, it would be the way she’s chewing on her plump bottom lip. The action is distracting, making me want to sink my teeth into it.
“ No , clearly you didn't.” I spit. Lacing my voice with disdain to hide the want I’m feeling. I wait for her to respond but she just blinks at me. Reality starts to leak back in as the smell of too sweet coffee invades my nostrils and the coldness of the drink that had been crushed between us, begins to seep through my shirt and onto my skin.
Unfortunately , it does absolutely nothing to stop the heat I’m feeling or my cock from growing larger and straining against my zipper as it jerks and throbs. That's inconvenient. Really fucking inconvenient.
“ Can I have that?” I ask, pointing to the napkin in her hand. When she just stands there, staring at me blankly, her friend grabs the napkin from her and hands it to me.
I nod while saying thank you, then start walking forward, Grimm still by my side. As we walk away, I feel a weird pang in my chest. Those eyes are ingrained into my mind and they might just be my newest obsession.
Thankfully the ceremony is held on the opposite side of the un iversity, which will hopefully allow my shirt time to dry on the walk there.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at the ceremony location. It’s hidden behind one of the mausoleums in Blackwood’s cemetery. There’s an entire system of tunnels and rooms housed underground, beneath the gigantic angel statue and the graves in the cemetery. It's the tallest statue, matching that of the two neighboring mausoleums on both sides.
We set foot into the cemetery’s entrance and I rub my hand down my chest and abs, flattening down my shirt. It’s still wet, but not as bad as it was before. The smell of caramel still penetrates my nostrils and I’ve paired the smell with those beautiful brown eyes that haven't left my mind once.
“ You reek,” Grimm remarks with a smirk.
“ Fuck you. Let’s get this over with.” I say with an irritated sigh. I let my eyes slide around the cemetery. It feels completely empty besides our presence, save for the souls that are trapped here.
The eerie atmosphere never did bother me though, I've been closer to a far worse evil. The sound of loose gravel crunching under our boots is the only noise to be heard besides the cliche crow in the towering trees.
“ I hate this place. It gives me the fucking creeps.” Grimm shudders.
“ You give me the creeps,” I say while rolling my eyes. We come to a stop at the statue and I let my gaze roam over its sinister view. The once white angel has chipped under the eyes, creating what looks like black tears flowing out of its weeping stare. Its large wings have cracked over time, as broken as those who lie beneath us .
Grimm reaches into his back pocket and retrieves the crest needed for entry. He hands it over to me and I do another sweep of the place, making sure no one is here. Confirming the coast is clear, I lean forward and insert the brotherhood crest into the angel’s pleading hands.
There is a resounding click from the back of the mausoleum to the left of us. Taking the crest out, we head over to the backside of the mausoleum where the door has unlocked, allowing us access to the stairs leading underground. As the door closes behind us, the dim lights on the sides of the walls automatically turn on one by one down the stairs and tunnel.
The curved ceiling of the tunnel is lined with dark bricks and the smell of stale, copper air is inescapable. Making our way down the tunnel, we take a few turns before approaching the large ceremony room. The low murmur of voices bounces around the cement walls.
My eyes wander around all the bare-faced members. On a nearby table lay black beaked masks with slightly curved horns coming out of the top. They’re complete with a red cross that looks as if it's dripping blood in the center, between the eyes. Grimm and I will be receiving those today, along with the other seniors.
All seniors who have completed initiation into the brotherhood have black masks. Lower -classmen will receive a red skull mask, covering only the bottom half of their face. The brotherhood is all about status and one way it is shown, is through these masks.
We haven’t even been here for five minutes and I already want to fucking leave. Grimm's eyes scan the members until he spo ts Eli and Jaden , our other roommates, across the room. He gives them a nod as we walk over.
“ Hey ,” Eli greets us with a small nod and a straight face. Jaden steps closer to give me a pat on the back and immediately crinkles his nose when he’s just inches away.
“ What is that smell, Em ?” he asks with furrowed brows.
“ A pretty little thing spilled her coffee all over him” Grimm chuckles before his eyes widen and a suggestive comment leaves his mouth. “ Hey , maybe she can do what Lorelei couldn’t.” Instantly , my spine stiffens as the need to be territorial skirts through my veins. I swat him on the back of the head.
“ Don’t talk about her like that or your plot in the cemetery will be filled a lot sooner than originally planned.” I quip. It might sound like I’m joking, but by the thrumming in my blood, I know I’m not. His mouth drops open and he jokingly scoffs, holding his hand to his chest.
The chilling sound of the waterphone brings all conversations to a halt as the lights dim down, turning everyone into shadowy silhouettes, a warning sign that the ceremony is about to begin. Jaden leans against the wall with his arms crossed, clearly not wanting to be here any more than I do.
As the waterphone fades out, the president of the brotherhood, daddy dearest, appears. He strides over to the table with the assortment of masks. The oldest members of the brotherhood, the elders, stand behind him in their black masks and begin a quiet hum as the first row of senior students are called up to collect their masks.
Once the upperclassmen are situated in their respective seats, the process repeats with the underclassmen. When every one is seated again, my father saunters to a stone bowl placed at the center of the room.
“ Matthew Burox ,” he thunders, announcing the first initiate. Matthew stands and makes his way over to the bowl. He’s handed a long thin knife to slice his palm. As Matthew drags the blade across his palm, he hisses as the elders switch from a hum to a hushed chant.
“ Vis , Vindicta , Sanguis ” meaning strength, vengeance, and blood. Matthew’s blood drips from his open palm like a flowing river and into the stone bowl, appearing black due to the low lighting. He then repeats the chant back to the rest of us and returns to his seat.
With every new initiate the chanting grows louder.
“ Vis , Vindicta , Sanguis .”
The room grows silent as we wait for the next name to get called.
“ Emmett Blackwood ,'' my father’s voice booms. I lean forward and push myself off the wall while all the beaks and skulls turn my way. It feels like they’re attempting to stare into my soul, past the metaphorical and physical masks I wear. Coming to a stop in front of the bowl, I'm handed the lengthy blade.
Lifting my left hand, I take the pointed tip of the knife and press into the upper part of my palm until I feel the skin break and a bead of blood begins to appear. I angle the knife lower and start to slice across my palm, watching as the skin splits open and crimson liquid cascades from beneath the serrated blade.
Dropping the knife next to me, I hold my hand sideways over t he bowl and allow the blood to drip down my palm as it paints my skin.
“ Vis , Vindicta , Sanguis ,” I grit out. The chanting resumes as I take my bleeding palm and head back to my seat, leaving a trail of drops.
Leaning back against the wall in between Jaden and Grimm , I look over at Jaden and raise a quizzical brow at the face he’s making.
“ Why do you look like that?” I lean in and whisper. Jaden looks over at me with furrowed brows.
“ What do you think they do with all of that blood?”
Grimm smirks while antagonizing him, “ Rumor has it, they drink it, savoring the metallic taste.”
Jaden cringes. Turning my head back to the center of the room I watch as the last member finishes his blood sacrifice. My father’s voice booms the final chant in English , “ Strength , Vengeance , Blood .” The room responds with the same chant, translated into Latin .
“ Vis , Vindicta , Sanguis ,” concluding the sacrificial portion of tonight's ceremony.
The sounding of the waterphone silences the chanting, as the camera I remember all too well is unveiled. New members have to go through a humiliation process. Some may think this is torture, but they’ve been blessed to have never stepped foot inside of my head. This is child’s play.
The last four people to complete the ritual were our new initiates. After the last new member completes the blood ritual, the four of them line up. One of the elders carries the blood-filled bowl away, along with the podium. Four other elders carry in chairs and line them up behind the newest members in the center of the room.
Immediately , they’re told to strip out of their clothes. Following orders, they undress and form a pile of clothes in front of them. The sound of grunts and the snap of metal rods hitting flesh fill the room as the four members are hit behind the knees, causing them to fall to the floor. The elders step forward, picking up the young men and positioning them on the chairs.
They go willingly. They know what they were signing up for. Their wrists and ankles are bound to the chairs, leaving no chance for escape. A camera that’s seen way too much, is brought out and placed on a tripod facing the society’s latest constituents.
An elder comes around to secure their heads to the chair by a thick metal collar, as well as another strap that secures their forehead to the back of the chair.
This ensures there is no way for them to move their heads from the onslaught of torture they’re about to endure.
The click of the recording camera is the only sound besides the chattering teeth of the shivering, naked members. The elder behind the camera zooms in on each member's face, making certain their identity is known.
One by one the members are told to state their full name before a red, tight, thin material resembling a ski mask is yanked down their heads. This year’s initiation process has to go through a slight waterboarding, so this mask is used to induce controlled drowning, as well as to entice a sense of claustrophobia, being confined in the tight mask dragging them into complete darkness .
The only way they'll find relief is by suffering through it or drowning and accidentally dying by asphyxiation.
The furthest on the left is tipped backward, making a resounding thud and groan as he slams against the cement floor. Two members hold down his shoulders as a third goes behind his head. The power hose in his hand is cranked on, aimed directly down his throat.
Beyond the sound of the hose pumping out water, is the gurgling and choking of the kid trying not to drown. His body convulses under the onslaught of forced water entering his throat. They stop, allowing him a second to cough up the water, while he trembles from the panic and terror. He continues to gag, trying not to vomit.
A puddle begins to form underneath him, if it wasn't for his nakedness or the stench of piss filling my nostrils, I would have assumed it was from the hose. The hiss of the hose resounds through the room as they repeat the process to the remaining new members.
Lost in the sounds of their muffled grunts and gasps, my mind wanders to life outside the society, until the most wretched noise pulls me back into reality.
“ Brothers and sons,” my father’s voice echoes throughout the area. Looking up, I see the chairs have been cleared, the young men trembling with towels around their shoulders. Thankful the ceremony is coming to a close, I faintly listen to the repetitive speech about brotherhood, power, and the rules in place to remain as one of us.
“ Never turn your back on the brotherhood. You will find the consequences to be excruciatingly painful, for when you are in need there will be no one to be of assistance. We provi de a great deal of protection and if it shall come to light that our sanctuary, business, or identity was revealed, you will surely regret it.
This society is not to be spoken about with anyone that does not belong to it. Lastly , respect is earned not given, I am certain none of you have yet warranted a position of power, so do what you’re told and lay low.” He glances at me and finishes his speech, “ Matthew will now come up to explain meetings and schedules for the semester.”
Matthew makes his way to the front of the room and my father steps aside. He takes off delivering a big brother speech, providing schedules for society meetings, fighting and defense training, and business mentoring.
The society is hell-bent on creating the best businessmen, and sometimes that includes getting your hands a little grimy. Matthew’s lecture comes to a close and he takes a seat as James steps back up.
“ The ceremony is now complete. To all of our new members, welcome to the Red Skull Brotherhood . Don’t fuck it up,” my father concludes. The chant is repeated one last time and my father nods his head in conclusion.
“ Thank you, Father James ,” the brotherhood says back in unison. It’s funny. He demands the entire brotherhood call him father, but I’m the only one who won’t speak those words. I have nothing to be thankful for.
I didn’t choose to be in the brotherhood. James is a horrible parent. I’ve sustained too many emotional, mental, and physical injuries, due to what he calls parenting. I start to head for the exit, but that annoying ass voice stops me in my tracks .
“ Emmett .” His voice demands. I don’t want to listen to him any longer than what is required of me, I just wish to leave. Knowing that will do nothing good for me, I reluctantly turn around and walk over to him.
“ We’re gonna wait for you outside, Em ,’’ Eli murmurs as he and the others begin to make their way out and I dip my head in acknowledgment. I'm going to need to preserve the energy I still have when it comes to speaking with my father.
Once next to him, I watch the rest of the brotherhood members slowly file out of the room, wishing I were going to the peacefulness of my home. Pulling my gaze from the door, I look over and meet my father’s eyes.
At the age of fifty, my father is still relatively attractive. Dark hair and viridescent eyes that match my own, a sharp jawline, and a muscular frame that mirrors my appearance. I’ve always resembled my father, another reason I hate looking at my reflection.
After my mother’s passing, I began loathing my looks. If I didn’t take after her physically, was I capable of taking after her emotionally?
From what I know and remember, she was a beautiful person. Our memories were loving, affectionate, and worth remembering. She was always cheerful and smiling, lent a helpful hand whenever she could, and spent lots of time exploring creative mediums like painting and writing. How was she with my father long enough to marry and have his child? I’ll never know. They are complete opposites, but you know what they say.
I meet his eyes, refusing to show him weakness. Refusing to let him believe the vile events from my childhood impacted me as much as they did. Even as the feelings of shame and disgust coat my insides, I tamp them down. Facing the demon, I push back my shoulders and hold my chin up, bracing myself for the fire.
The last elder steps out of the room and out comes the heat.
“ Must you always be so insolent?” James snaps. His lips thinning as he glares at me. I feel my blood start to boil with every word that comes out of his mouth.
“ I have things I need to do. What do you want?” I force from behind clenched teeth.
“ Watch your tone, you ungrateful brat. Ever since you were conceived you've been nothing but an inconvenience. Even your mother knew what a burden you were and still are.” He spits. A vein in his forehead starts to protrude. My spine instantly stiffens. She was the only good thing I had in this world. The constant reminder that I am the reason my mother is gone, is one of the many reasons I avoid my father.
“ You should be embarrassed of yourself, truly. Not only did you make her miserable with your existence, but you drove her to her death. Now you stand here in ceremonies and meetings, daydreaming, not showing an ounce of respect to our organization. Your feelings do not exist in this brotherhood. Get your shit together. This is the last warning I will give you.”
I can't respond. I want to say something, I want to tell him just how wrong he is, but doubt begins to crawl its way into the corners of my mind, making me silent. All I can do is stare at him. When he realizes he won't be getting a response, he continues .
“ Anyway , I didn't ask you to stay behind to remind you of your worthlessness, I wanted to speak to you about your classes. No son of mine will be taking something as insignificant as art. You will be taking all business courses.” He states matter of factly. “ If you ever plan on being competent enough to take over the Blackwood businesses, you need to have the education to back it.”
It was never in my plans to take over the family business. If he had given a sliver of attention to anything other than his desperate need for power, he would have seen how gifted I am with some paint and a brush, just like mom was. Wishful thinking on my part.
My mother was an artist. Her love for art extended to me. I have her work hanging around the house and my favorite painting, Femeia Distrus? , The Broken Woman , was placed in my bedroom. Many of my lonely nights were spent staring into the art, reminiscing. Either my father had forgotten that fact or he simply loves to dig the knife deeper into my chest with every insult. Knowing him, it’s the latter.
“ It’s funny you mention that because running the business wasn’t a goal I had in mind. I will be taking the art class, whether you change my schedule or not. You should start looking for a new heir because it won’t be me filling in as your predecessor.” I respond with a sarcastic smile. “ Nice talk. I’ll see you around, James .” I finish and turn on my heels, leaving without sparing him another glance.