Chapter 13 #4
Seraphina kicked her boots up against the dash, knowing that always pissed me off, and crossed her arms. “I thought you were taking the year off from terrorizing anyone.”
“Change of heart.”
“You have no heart.” Her tone turned playful as she leaned in, staring me down. “You like her, don’t you? That’s why you chose her.”
I wouldn’t look at her as I scoffed. “I chose Blair because she looked weak and pathetic the first time I saw her.”
“Lies,” she singsonged. “All lies, dear brother.”
I flexed my fingers against the steering wheel.
There were only a few people I allowed to annoy me like this.
Seraphina was one of them.
She was a pain and always tested my patience, but she was also my little sister. Protecting her had been stitched into my bones the day she was born, when I was only three years old.
My sister knew about the Night Sons. Not everything, but enough to know she was protected as a Haven. She’d never be one of the ones we used.
“You saw something in her.” She continued to irritate me. “I’ve known you my entire life—”
“Yes,” I cut her off. “And for a significant portion of that life, you believed in Santa Claus. I don’t exactly trust your judgments.”
She grinned brightly. “Maybe you’ll end up falling in love and marrying her.”
My father’s voice from his office echoed in my head. “We’re looking for a wife for you.”
I needed to figure out a way to get out of an arranged marriage.
I’d spent my entire life making my own choices.
Who I fucked.
Who I used.
Who belonged to me.
I didn’t like that power being stripped away.
Love or matrimony was never in my future.
I navigated through the tunnels with Cedric, Nico, Cassian, Emeri, and Brooks. All the Current Night Sons.
Four Elder Sons took the lead in front of us. Their movements were rigid as they walked in sync. Two others lagged behind us.
There were four ritual chambers within the tunnels. Each one had a specific purpose and sat at the end of a different corridor.
We stopped at the door that led to the Aula Cornuum.
Hall of Antlers.
The name was carved into the door in faded Latin. Massive stag antlers had been etched across its surface, and at their center sat a ring identical to the one on my finger. Every Son had one.
One by one, we stepped forward and scanned our fingerprints. A quiet beep followed each one.
With each confirmation, the small screen beside the door flashed the symbol tied to our locker. It registered every Son who walked through the doors.
Mine was a broken halo.
We filed into the circular room and spread into our assigned areas.
Aula Cornuum had been built like a tribunal. Stone tiers rose in a circle, each lined with benches for Elder Sons. The room could hold fifty men, though tonight barely half that number filled the seats.
The tiers curved inward, forcing every eye toward the center, where a long table of black oak waited below.
Chairs had been arranged along one side, facing the tiers.
Each bore the same antler crest carved into the door.
The benches, the floor, even the iron railings dividing the tiers carried the mark.
The Elder Sons took their places, and the Current Sons claimed our seats at the table below. The chairs were narrow and stiff-backed, built for posture rather than comfort. But this wasn’t a place for comfort.
The Aula Cornuum existed for Selections.
Two nights ago, I’d uploaded Blair’s file into the Fawn System, a private network only Night Sons could access. Every prospective Fawn had a profile there—background, family ties, weaknesses, psychological notes. A catalog of the women we intended to claim.
Though most of Blair’s file appeared to be fiction. I wasn’t about to correct it.
Hers was already the smallest submission I’d ever filed. There was almost nothing on her. The moment I’d hit Submit, every Elder Son and Current Son received the alert.
Before any Fawn Initiation, we held a Selection Hearing.
A formal vote.
Any Son in the room had the right to challenge my Selection.
And if enough of them voted against Blair, she wouldn’t become my Fawn.
It didn’t happen often, but when a Son challenged a Selection, it was usually because he knew something ugly about the girl or her family. The wrong Fawn could be as dangerous as a traitor within our circle. We didn’t allow threats inside our walls.
While we kept the deepest parts of our world hidden, the Fawns knew we existed. That alone made them a liability. Once a woman was brought into our system, she could never truly leave.
I lowered myself into my chair just as a faint light stirred in my peripheral vision. Lights along the tiers flickered on one by one.
I lifted my gaze toward the Elder Sons.
Some showed their faces. Others hid behind masks.
I hated the masks. Reading people was a skill I’d sharpened early, thanks to my father. He’d taught me that faces revealed far more than mouths ever could.
Most of the men in the tiers wore masks because they had too much to lose if they were ever identified. They were judges, CEOs, politicians, men who held high positions in the world above us.
The ones who didn’t bother hiding their faces were usually clinging to the glory of their old Night Sons days, desperate to be recognized for what they once were.
As a Current Night Son, I wasn’t permitted to wear my mask during hearings. Only Elders had earned that privilege.
That rule always pissed me off. If you knew who I was, then I wanted to know exactly who the hell you were too.
Attendance wasn’t mandatory for Selection Hearings.
To my left, a screen lit up with Blair’s face. The photo was one I’d uploaded, taken from her previous university ID.
I shifted in my chair, studying it as if it were the first time I’d seen her. As if I hadn’t already memorized every detail.
The curves of her plump lips. Eyes that had nearly transfixed me.
Slow heat writhed inside me.
I couldn’t wait to corrupt her. To claim her.
And once she was mine, I’d no longer have to entertain as many bullshit rules.
I’d never wanted a Fawn the way I wanted Blair, and she wasn’t even officially mine yet.
My previous Selection Hearings had always been routine. Another name, another girl to break.
This was the first time anticipation bit at me like an animal.
If any of these assholes tried to challenge her becoming my Fawn, there’d be hell to pay.
“This is the girl my son, Jett, died for?”
I looked up at the sound of Reginald’s smug voice.
I slammed my hands onto the table, shoved my chair back, and stood. “Would you like to lose another finger, Reginald?” I asked the room, not bothering to search for him in the tiers.
Most of the men hid behind pseudonyms, but not Reginald. He wanted to be known down here.
Even without seeing his face, I smiled. There wasn’t a trace of humor in it.
Whispers rose from the Elders above, though I couldn’t make out the words. One of our rules was to show respect to the Elder Sons.
Fuck that.
I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my hoodie before speaking. “I’m glad you brought that up.” I pointed at Blair’s face on the screen. “This is the woman your dipshit son ran his mouth to, spilling all our secrets.”
A few Elders shifted on their benches.
I placed a hand over my chest. “So, yes, I made the decision to make this woman my Fawn.” My gaze swept the room. “Wouldn’t you all agree it’s far less complicated to claim her than kill her?”
Every Night Son at the table nodded.
Some of the Elders from the tiers followed suit.
Others stayed silent and still.
Leaning forward, I braced my hands on the edge of the table.
“This prospective Fawn has known about our existence for nearly a week. Yet she hasn’t spoken a word about it.
” My eyes lifted toward the upper tiers, where Reginald usually sat.
“Meanwhile, Reginald’s son couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
He exposed us. The real question is how he learned enough to do it. ”
Conversation rippled through the chamber, and I flashed a shit-eating grin.
Reginald had really been fucking up lately.
Both of his children were dead. His reelection campaign was collapsing after news broke about several mistresses. I’d heard there were dick pics involved, but I had no interest in confirming it.
I preferred keeping my eyes intact, thank you.
“My son was supposed to be a Night Son!” Reginald shouted from his tier, every word laced with venom. “The problem was, none of you would approve him! Had it not been this group, we wouldn’t have had an issue.”
Chairs scraped against the floor as Cedric, Brooks, Emeri, Cassian, and Nico stood.
Every one of us had voted against Jett joining the Sons.
He’d been a bigger liability than if Benedict Arnold had become a Son.
I paid a glance to Brooks, crossed my arms, and waited—prayed—that Reginald would keep running his mouth, so I could punish him for it.
Unfortunately, he knew when to shut it.
We sat back down, and I scanned the room again, this time my target was Blair’s stepfather. He had to be here. It was his stepdaughter’s Selection Hearing.
“Any other objections that have actual merit?” Brooks asked the room.
No one spoke.
Brooks struck the gavel down against the table. “Prospective Fawn approved. Prepare for Initiation.”