18. Theodore
18
THEODORE
I press the cool glass of scotch to my lips and take a slow sip. Sleep has become a distant memory. Ever since I inherited Vanguard and stepped into the role of patriarch, my nights have been consumed by the mountain of tasks that come with running this empire.
But that isn’t enough. It’s my family’s burden, a legacy built on blood and secrets, and no matter how much control I think I have, it will never fully belong to me. That’s why I made my own move with Iron Veil Distillery , a brand that will be synonymous with power and refinement. It will be my own empire, separate from Vanguard .
Maxwell has Madhouse , Julian has the archives. Iron Veil is mine.
I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, thinking of everything that has gone into this deal. It started as an indulgence, a way to take my love for scotch and turn it into something tangible. Now , it has evolved into something much bigger, a necessary balance to everything else.
The phone buzzes on my desk, Nathan’s name flashing across the screen.
Nathan has been with me for years, one of my most trusted employees at the cyber security firm. He’s sharp, methodical, the kind of man who never leaves loose ends. When I started working on the Iron Veil deal, it felt right to have him oversee the logistics.
I already know what he’s going to say.
I set the glass down and answer, my voice steady. “ Tell me.”
“ It’s done.”
I exhale slowly, satisfaction settling deep in my chest. “ Good . I want everything prepped for the announcement.”
Nathan hesitates for half a second. “ And how are you planning on handling that?”
A slow smirk tugs at my lips. “ I already have someone in mind.”
The deal is sealed. The distillery is mine. Now , it’s time for Isabel to prove herself useful.
A knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I know it’s Julian before I even look up.
“ I have to go,” I tell Nathan , setting the phone aside as the door creaks open.
Julian steps in, a stack of papers and a thick leather-bound book tucked under his arm.
“ Got something for you,” he starts, shuffling through the documents. “ First off, you were right about the connection between Vanguard and the town. It goes back way further than we thought.”
“ Go on,” I prod, leaning forward. My heart is already picking up its pace.
Vanguard is more than just a private club. It’s the beating heart of the Whitmore legacy, and every file in my father’s old office seems to reveal another layer of secrets, alliances, and betrayals. Julian has been helping me piece it all together. He has a knack for uncovering things no one else can, thanks to the years he spent practically living in libraries. After we found those history books back at St . Dismas many years ago, Julian became obsessed with the history of Ebonridge , especially the Whitmore family’s role in it. Now , as the town’s archivist, he has access to resources I can only dream of.
He picks up the leather-bound book, flipping it open to a page in the middle. “ This is where it gets... strange.” He runs a finger over the inked text, the writing old but still legible. “ There’s mention of something called The Keepers of the Bloodline , a group that was active in the late 1800s. Thing is, it doesn’t read like they were some rogue faction or underground cult. It’s like they were deeply tied to the town itself, almost as if they were using the town as their cover.”
He flips another page, showing me an old, faded map of the town, a circle drawn around a piece of land that looks eerily familiar. I lean in, squinting, the outline of the property almost burned into my memory.
“ Is that our estate?”
“ Yeah , right at the heart of everything. It has always been tied to the family’s influence in the town, but I don’t think anyone realized just how deep those roots go.”
My mind races, trying to make sense of what this all means.
“ Are you saying this is where it all started?” I ask. “ This is where the cult operated?”
Julian nods slowly, his gaze fixed on the map, as if he can still see the ghosts of the past lingering there. “ It’s where they centered their activities, or at least where they conducted their meetings.”
“ Considering the Whitmore history, it wouldn’t be surprising,” I mutter.
“ The records talk about the sacrifices...”
My mind flashes to Latibulum Noctis and the rituals that follow.
“ You’re saying the games are tied to this cult?”
“ Exactly . The games were a modern iteration of something much older. The way the participants were chosen, and the structure of the sacrifices all mirror the rituals of the Keepers . Lionel and his predecessors didn’t come up with this out of thin air. They were continuing a tradition, repurposing it to fit their time.”
I grit my teeth, anger bubbling under the surface. The deeper I dig, the more I realize just how complicated the history of the Whitmores really is.
“ So , everything we were forced to endure wasn’t just about the family’s legacy. It was about keeping the cult’s influence alive.”
I glance at the stack of documents on my desk, old deeds and records, all stamped with the ouroboros and key. It’s clear now that Vanguard isn’t just a playground for the wealthy; it’s a hub for something far bigger.
“ That’s what I’m starting to believe,” Julian agrees. “ There’s too much history here that lines up. I don’t think this is a coincidence.”
He sets the book down, pulling out a stack of yellowing newspaper clippings. I scan the faded headlines. “ Mysterious Disappearances Spark Outrage ,” “ Town on Edge as Women Vanish Without a Trace ,” and “ The Dark Secrets of Ebonridge : A Cult’s Reign of Terror ?”
They remind me of the articles we found in the estate’s library when we were younger.
Julian taps a few of the pages with his finger. “ This is where shit gets interesting. There are first-hand accounts from when the cult’s activities were exposed. It all started when people in the town began noticing more and more women were going missing. At first, there were just rumors, but then... bodies started piling up.”
Julian looks up at me, his face grim. “ The articles don’t go into detail, but it was clear something was happening. As the disappearances increased, so did whispers of a group operating in the shadows. Eventually , someone got a hold of information that led to the cult’s exposure. The town rioted. They burned their homes, destroyed anything they could find. But it’s like they erased the whole thing from history after that, like they wanted to forget what happened.”
The room feels colder now. “ But you think they never really went away.”
Julian nods. “ I’m not sure who’s still involved, but I can’t shake the feeling that the cult is still operating under our noses. It might not be as obvious as it was back then, but I’m convinced they never truly disbanded.”
A muscle in my jaw tics as I consider his words. I can’t ignore the sinking feeling the council knows more than they’ve let on. If the cult still exists in some form, if their influence still lingers in Ebonridge , it’s impossible that the council—the very people who pride themselves on controlling every facet of this town—would be unaware.
Suddenly , the sound of the front door slamming echoes through the house, followed by heavy, uneven footsteps. Moments later, Maxwell strides into the study, looking disheveled.
“ Well , what did I miss?” he asks, running a hand through his messy hair.
Julian shoots him a look. “ You just got back from Madhouse , didn’t you?”
Maxwell smirks, shrugging. “ Guilty .”
Julian sighs but doesn’t bother with a lecture. “ We were just going over a few things I found in Lionel’s files and the archives.”
“ Oh , fantastic,” Maxwell says, rolling his eyes as he flops into the nearest chair. He waves a hand in an exaggeratedly aristocratic fashion, like some bored noble entertaining a court jester. “ More family secrets to ruin my day. Go on, then.”
Julian fills him in. Maxwell listens, his expression shifting from mild amusement to something more serious as the pieces start to fall into place.
“ Huh ,” he finally says, leaning back in his chair. “ So , the games weren’t just Lionel being his usual sadistic self. I can’t say I’m surprised, but damn.” He pauses before he adds with a dry chuckle, “ At least now, we have a valid excuse for how screwed up we are.”
Julian shakes his head, muttering something about how Maxwell never takes anything seriously. Then , he says, “ I’ll keep digging,” before standing to gather the papers.
Maxwell waves him off. “ Great . Let me know when you find the part where we’re not completely doomed.”
After Julian steps out, he turns to me with that infuriating grin of his. “ So , what’s the deal with Isabel ?”
I narrow my eyes. “ What do you mean?”
“ She’s been awfully quiet lately. I figured maybe you finally scared her off.”
“ Don’t be an idiot.”
“ Relax .” He holds up his hands, his grin widening. “ I’m just asking. When’s the last time you even saw her?”
The question hits harder than I expect. I clench my jaw, forcing my expression to stay neutral. “ It’s been a couple weeks.”
Not since the basement.
I tell myself it’s because I’ve been busy. There is too much on my plate to waste time thinking about her.
That’s a lie.
The truth is, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. The way she looked on her knees, eyes glossy, cheeks flushed from the sharp bite of my palm. The way my cock strained against my slacks at the sight of her, the way she submitted beneath my hands despite the defiance still burning in her gaze. I’ve thought about putting her back in that position, about going further, taking everything I know she’s afraid to admit she wants.
But I can’t allow myself that yet.
Maxwell raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “ Weeks ? Didn’t think you had it in you to stay away that long.”
I don’t respond. He doesn’t need to know the distance is calculated, that every second away from her has only fueled my obsession.
Instead , I watch him. He’s fishing for something.
“ Is there something wrong with her?”
Maxwell shakes his head. “ She’s fine.”
“ Max .” My voice is flat.
He exhales, raking a hand through his hair. “ She has been having nightmares, wakes up crying sometimes.”
That’s why I’ve caught him sneaking down the hall almost every night. He’s been going to comfort her.
A strange sensation settles in my chest, something dark and possessive, but it’s not jealousy.
Maxwell stands, stretching dramatically, like he just finished a hard day’s work. “ Well , on that note, I think I’m going to crash. Or at least try to, assuming I don’t dream about ritual sacrifices or creepy old cults.”
“ Goodnight , Maxwell ,” I say flatly, not looking up. My mind is elsewhere, fixated on the fact that Isabel has been in distress while I’ve been keeping my distance.
And on the fact that I don’t want to stay away anymore.
Moments later, the door clicks shut.
I turn to my desk and press the hidden switch. The monitor comes to life, and the feed turns on, showing Isabel’s room. She’s asleep, curled up on her side, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Something’s different tonight. I can’t just sit here and watch her. There’s a knot in my chest, twisting tighter with every passing second.
Before I can think it through, I shut off the feed and head upstairs.