Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
MICHAEL
Most people expected a cake or maybe even to receive presents for their birthday.
I, on the other hand, waited for when I’d be kidnapped.
It was the day before my birthday and tonight I’d receive my Order—the task I’d have to accomplish to complete my Ascension and officially become part of the House of Atlas.
I’d been conditioned for this moment from the moment I drew my first breath and now that it was almost here, I wanted to simultaneously run far away and get it over with.
But what I did or didn’t want, didn’t matter.
I’d been born to serve the House and we all had to do as we’re told. Amar, Sofiane and I all had to make our fathers proud because even though we were born into this world, we were forced to earn our place.
It was either that or be killed for failing.
Tonight would change my life. For better or worse.
I’d finished my shift earlier and had been home for the last few hours, waiting.
None of us were told anything beforehand. From what our Order would be to when or where I’d be taken from and to. We weren’t allowed to visit the House until the eve of our thirty-second birthday. And even then, I wouldn’t be privy to its location or given a tour until after my Ascension next year when I turned thirty-three.
I’d tried to keep myself occupied the entire evening, but nothing helped settle my frizzling nerves. I wasn’t an anxious person, but the notion of the unknown had always unsettled me.
I prided myself in always being prepared for any situation and although I’d always known this part of my life had to stay a mystery until I’d shown I was worthy, I was never able to make peace with it.
Good thing that would end tonight.
It was almost 10:00 p.m. and I’d just finished rinsing and putting away the dishes I’d used to make dinner, when the lights in my flat all shut down. Almost instantly, a hood was placed over my head and my vision went dark.
I woke up minutes, or maybe even hours later, kneeling and stripped down to only my underwear. They wanted us down to our most vulnerable self and at their mercy. Not that any of us would ever fight to escape our responsibilities.
No matter how much we wanted to.
The smell of fire crackling filled my nose and I breathed heavily into the cloth covering my head. I slightly shifted to relieve some of the soreness in my muscles from being in this position for god knows how long. The fabric was too thick to see through, but by the biting cold from the abrasive concrete floor seeping into my skin and down to my bones and the shackles binding my wrist to my ankles behind me, I must be in some sort of basement.
I stifled the shiver running down my spine because I could feel their scrutinizing eyes watching over me. The room was eerily quiet before someone finally spoke.
“Young Seungwon.” I heard my name over the pounding headache resounding against my skull. Whoever they’d sent to take me hadn’t chosen gentleness in their approach. “You’ve been summoned to serve the House. Do you wish to accept your Order?”
“Yes, sir,” I immediately answered. Any ounce of hesitation would have warranted swift termination. Even if my father was standing just a few feet away from me.
Blood didn’t matter in the House, only loyalty did.
A click echoed in the room and my cuffed wrists were released, but I didn’t move. I waited for the distorted voice to speak again, to give me direction as to what was expected of me, but it was utterly quiet.
I waited a few more minutes before I shook the iron shackles off. When nothing happened to stop me, I brought my hand up to remove the cloth from over my head.
Still nothing.
I took a deep breath, blinking several times, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Once they did, I scanned the room I was held in.
Over the years, I’d imagined this moment and what this place would look like a million times, but it was nothing like I’d imagined. Instead of the underground cave and rock walls I’d pictured, the room that greeted me was the complete opposite and oozed wealth.
The flickering glow of candles cast shadows across the stone and elaborate moorish architecture. Tall, arched windows filtered moonlight through stained glass, creating an eerie atmosphere. Geometric patterns lined the walls and a small and rectangular reflective pool in the center captured the faint glimmers from above.
My eyes traveled across the water’s surface and landed on the large circular platform, its surface covered in arabesque details, on the other side of the room, where the fire I’d smelled earlier erupted from. Three men—the Elders—stood behind it. They all wore black cloaks and matching ornate masks adorned with intricate gold filigree with the House’s emblem weaved into it.
I didn’t understand the need to hide their identity since I already knew who each of the men were. The House didn’t recruit outside of the three sacred lineages, but I guessed it made them feel superior—as if running the world wasn’t enough.
My gaze scanned over their figures and despite the masks concealing their entire face, I could feel their harsh glare on me. One of them—my father, judging by the height since he towered over the rest of the Elders—gave the slightest, almost imperceptible nod toward a dark envelope laid on a wrought-iron stand in front of the altar, its legs surfacing from the water.
I stood, ignoring the dizziness swarming my vision, and walked over the edge of the pool since it was the only way to get to the stand. The frigid water seeped into my bones as I stepped inside. The level of the water kept increasing as I walked across the pool’s length until it stopped rising once it reached my knees. I halted in front of the stand, the crackling fire’s heat stinging my skin from its proximity.
The Elders still hadn’t moved from their position or said a word.
Warily, I reached for the black envelope with a warm brown seal with an Atlas lion engraved in it and the moment I grabbed it, the Elders trickled out of the room through a large wooden door, leaving me alone.
This isn’t at all what I expected.
I waited until the last one was out before breaking the seal and pulling the frail paper inside. Written in the middle of the note in bold, black ink was a single sentence.
Become the next medical director of Amanar General Hospital.
My eyes widened, but I quickly schooled my expression because I knew that even if they’d left the room, they were still watching my every move.
I’d always wondered what these tasks would be and knew they wouldn’t be easy, but this was beyond what I’d expected. I was brilliant at my job and climbed ranks faster than any trainee before, but I’d just become a consultant doctor—early might I add, but that’s beside the point.
Becoming medical director took years of work, loyalty to the hospital, and most importantly, a vacancy for the role. Adnan Ziani had spent over forty years at AGH and was a well-respected and loved surgeon.
How was I supposed to take his job? How was I supposed to convince the board that I was better suited than him?
For fuck’s sake.
This would be an impossible task, but I never forfeited to a challenge. No matter how hard it was. I wasn’t starting now, especially when the only way out of this was death.
My father’s legacy and honor depended on it, because although I’d be six feet underground, he’d find a way to haunt me and repeatedly remind me of how I’d failed him.
And more importantly, Amar and Sofiane’s lives were also on the line. My failing or refusing to proceed would be followed by their immediate termination and I wouldn’t be able to warn them because the House had eyes and ears everywhere.
They’d be dead before I even managed to take my next breath.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, my breathing threatening to turn heavy but I pushed it away and opened my eyes again. My gaze caught a tiny imprint at the bottom of the page.
Following the instruction, I dropped the piece of paper into the fire and watched it burn, knowing it meant the countdown to my Ascension had officially begun.
365 days.
I had 365 days to complete my Order.
365 days to Ascend and officially become part of the House of Atlas or die.
Before I could walk away or ask what was next, the ceramic floor of the pool gave out from underneath me and I fell into oblivion.
Incessant pouding jolted me out of a deep, foggy slumber.
I groaned, struggling to peel open my heavy eyelids. My mind, thick with sleep, fumbled to piece together what was happening or even where I was, but the hammering kept on, unrelenting.
What is with all this noise?
My fingers brushed against familiar Egyptian cotton, confirming I was in my bed, although I couldn’t recall how I’d gotten here. But before I could even gather my thoughts, the pounding had ceased and a voice bellowed from the other side of the door.
“I hope you’re decent in there.” Was the only warning I got before Amar slammed the door to my bedroom open.
I rubbed a hand across my face, hoping to clear the fog that still clung to my senses, and looked over at where he stood through half-closed eyes. He had a giant grin on his face as he marched inside my bedroom uninvited, with Sofiane reluctantly trailing behind him with an apologetic expression on his face.
“What—” I tried to say, my voice thick and sluggish. I cleared my throat and tried again. “What are you doing here?” I finally managed to ask.
The last thing I remembered from last night was burning my Order as instructed and then everything went dark. I must have been drugged, because my head and my body felt like I’d been run over by a train full-speed.
Under normal circumstances, I would have questioned how I’d ended up in my bed completely clothed, but nothing about our lives was normal.
Amar threw himself down onto my bed while Sofiane stood at the edge, his hands clasped behind his back. “It’s your birthday,” Amar said, as though that explained him barging into my house.
“I know it’s my birthday, Amar, but why are you really here?”
Amar opened his mouth to respond, but Sofiane was quicker. “He showed up at my house, demanding I come with, even though I repeatedly told him you weren’t allowed to tell us anything.”
Amar shot him an exasperated glance over his shoulder, before focusing his attention back on me. “Don’t pay him no attention, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You can absolutely tell us what it was like.”
We all knew what happened the last time we’d talked about the House amongst ourselves and, frankly, I’d rather not have a repeat situation.
I rubbed my temples, trying to assuage the headache building. “What time is it?” I asked, changing the subject.
Sofiane glimpsed at his watch. “It’s 9:07”
I shot upright in bed. “Fuck,” I muttered, the fog in my mind suddenly clearing up. “I’m late for work.”
Without another word, I scrambled to untangle myself from the covers and rushed past them toward my closet. After quickly changing into the first thing I could find, I made my way back into my bedroom, only to find them still there.
“I have a job to get to, so if you’ll excuse me,” I said, grabbing my phone that had somehow ended up on the floor.
“But you haven’t told us anything,” Amar grumbled as I walked out of the bedroom and hurried down the stairs.
Reaching the lift, I scanned my fingerprint and the doors slid open automatically. “You’ve got five minutes to leave before Mamadou comes up,’’ I called out, not waiting for a reply.
By the time I arrived at AGH, I had just enough time to get a pair of scrubs from the dispensing unit and change. I walked into the scrub room with barely a few minutes to spare, only to find Azara already getting ready.
She gave me a once-over, and let out a deep sigh. “You’re late,” was all she said as she returned to scrubbing her hands and forearms.
I’d scheduled us for a heart bypass this morning and this was always how she greeted me when she saw me walk in. Maybe it was a waste of resources, but I enjoyed seeing the look on her face when she realized that we’d be stuck together for the next few hours and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Always with the warm welcome, Dr. Ziani,” I teased, fastening a surgical mask over my face. I could almost hear her eyes roll as I grabbed a scrub brush pack and moved to the sink to begin the same process when the door to the room opened.
Marcella popped her head in. “Dr. Young, I moved your mitral valve repair for Mr. Gonzalez to 3:30 this afternoon,” she announced.
I nodded in understanding, acknowledging the change without needing further elaboration. Marcella never wasted time on pleasantries when it came to delivering any updates she’d made to the schedule so I’d learned to simply nod and follow along with her plans.
Just as she turned to slip out, she paused, her hand still on the door. “Oh, and happy birthday,” she added nonchalantly, before slipping out of the room without giving me a chance to respond.
I blinked, slightly taken aback. I hadn’t told anyone it was my birthday, so I had no idea how she’d figured it out. But with Marcella, it was always best not to question how she seemed to know everything.
I turned back to my task, but my focus faltered when I saw Azara staring at me with wide eyes, her previous annoyed expression faltering.
“Wait,” she said, her voice lace with surprise. “It’s your birthday?”
“Yeah,” I replied reluctantly. I didn’t like talking about my birthday. I’d stopped celebrating it a long time ago. The day I’d realized that every time I did, it was one year closer to binding myself forever to the House.
The day I’d used to look forward to as a child had been tainted by the prospect of what my life was meant to be.
A shadow of guilt washed over her face, and I watched her gaze slightly soften.
She’d never looked at me that way.
She paused, hesitating for a moment, before drying a hand on her scrubs. Then, to my surprise, she reached into one of her pockets. My brows furrowed in puzzlement while I watched her pull out something from it. My eyes glanced down at her extended hand.
“Happy birthday, Dr. Young,” Azara said softly and my eyes flicked up to hers.
My heart lurched against my ribcage as my mind tried to grapple with the mix of emotions I was feeling at the gesture, but I could only focus on the barely-there smile tugging at her lips as she handed me a small pouch of Skittles. I still didn’t know why she carried so many wrappers of the candy, but I’d seen her occasionally dump an entire bag in her mouth during a shift.
But none of that mattered because Azara Ziani just smiled at me.
My eyes widened. “Was that a smile, Dr. Ziani?”
Her face immediately morphed back into the one I’d slowly grown accustomed to. She scowled, shoving the packet into my chest. “Just take the bloody Skittles, so we can get to work.”
I closed my hand around hers. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through me, and when I met her eyes, time seemed to slow.
For the briefest moment, something transpired between us…
But just as quickly, she snatched her hand away, flustered. She muttered something under her breath as she lasered her focus onto scrubbing in again.
I wanted to say something but decided against it.
Instead, I pocketed her gift and got ready for surgery. Again.