Chapter 42
Xavier
The cold December air bites at my skin as I stand among the other recruits, all of us gathered in a clearing deep in the woods.
My hoodie falls off when I lift my head, my gaze pointed toward the fraternity miles away where Delilah sleeps.
A vision of her fills my mind, and a renewed sense of purpose rises.
Along with a sense of dread.
The McKenzie heir will be dead soon if I don’t figure out a way to save his life—while preserving my own. My father won’t tolerate failure. That is the only thing I know for certain.
Well, that and the fact that Delilah will hate me after this, no matter what I do.
The moonlight casts shadows on the ground, and the tall skeletal trees loom, their branches clawing at the sky. The frost-covered grass beneath my boots is hard, and a crunching noise hits the air every time I shift my weight. Beside me are Benjamin and Declan, their expressions neutral.
Tonight, we’re not wearing physical masks, but have donned mental ones to protect our thoughts. The third and final Trial lies before us. For some of the men here, this is the last time they’ll see the moon.
The head of the Gage family claps his hands together. Everyone present, even the other leaders of the founding families, turns their attention to him. His son, Eric, stands a little straighter, his ever-present scowl in place.
“Recruits, welcome to the final test of your initiation,” the council member says, his voice echoing in the clearing as he gestures to an opening in the ground.
A pair of wooden doors have been unlocked and opened, providing a glimpse of the stairwell that leads underground into nothing but darkness.
“Tonight, you will enter these tunnels as recruits and emerge as crows, finally worthy to join our ranks within the Order.”
Eric scoffs loudly before muttering, “Only some of us will.”
Although he waves a hand to silence his son, Gage smirks in approval.
“The past three years have not been easy. We’ve pushed you to your limits, tested your strengths, and exposed your weaknesses.
Tonight, that resilience, along with the skills you’ve obtained through training, will be your greatest assets. ”
Benjamin stiffens, his shoulders rising with tension. Declan glances at me, and I nod, communicating that I’m ready for whatever comes. I have too much to live for to die tonight.
“Inside these tunnels, you will encounter challenges designed to test everything you’ve learned.
” Gage gestures to the dark maw of the entrance behind him.
“You will know you’ve successfully completed the Trial when you locate the door marked with the symbol of a crow.
You must reach it before dawn, although not all of you will live long enough to find it.
Such is the way of the Order: It does not tolerate the weak and foolish. ”
His tone is colder than the winter air, his threat as clear as glass. My objective remains the same: keep myself and Benjamin alive.
Gage looks to my father and Declan’s dad, and the three council members share a weighted look. My father clears his throat, and I clench my jaw in preparation.
“Remember the rules,” he says. “No killing unless it’s in self-defense. Everything else is permissible. Recruits, your time begins in five . . .”
My eyes narrow. Self-defense?
“Four . . .”
I look to Declan to confirm whether or not he finds this minor addition suspicious. He gives me a solemn nod, indicating I’m not alone in suspecting sabotage from other recruits.
“Three . . .”
“Stay close,” I whisper to Benjamin. He swings his gaze to me, giving me a full view of the anxiety coursing through him.
“Two . . .”
I crane my neck, making it pop, and bend my knees, leaning on the balls of my feet.
“One. Mors solum initium.”
The recruits around me take off at a sprint toward the entrance.
I stand there for a moment before walking methodically behind them with Ben and Declan flanking me.
They don’t question my decision to enter last. My pace is deliberate and calculated.
Rushing into the unknown could set off whatever traps might lie in the first stretch of the tunnels.
In these Trials, caution is as valuable as courage.
Behind us, the atmosphere of moonlight and clarity recedes. Ahead lie only shadows and uncertainty. As the darkness envelops us, the last glimpse of the outside world fades, and we plunge into the depths of the tunnel.
The damp, earthy smell of the underground envelops me. Echoes of hurried footsteps and distant splashes reach my ears as the other recruits plunge deeper into the maze. The dim light from my flashlight cuts through the blackness, revealing the rough, jagged walls surrounding me.
Every hit to my senses triggers a memory, a ghost from my past. My father’s stern voice as he instructed a younger version of me on the harsh lessons of survival. “Find your way out, Xavier. Prove you’re worthy to be a Donovan.”
These tunnels were my battleground, my playground, and my prison.
I can almost feel the grip of my small, childlike fingers around a flashlight similar to the one I hold now, the beam shaky as I navigated through the dark, my heart pounding not just with fear but with unwavering resolve.
Back then, I believed that each time I found my way out, it would bring me closer to earning my father’s approval.
Now, as I tread carefully over the familiar uneven ground, the memories morph into a clearer understanding of those trials. They were not just tests of physical endurance but emotional manipulation, my father’s way of forging me into what he thought I should be.
Whatever lies ahead in these tunnels is beyond the decrees of any council or the expectations of any family legacy.
I breathe deeply, the musty air filling my lungs, reminding me of all the nights spent here, learning every turn, every echo that might signify a dead end or a passage to freedom.
Each step I take is measured, my senses heightened to any slight sound or shift that could indicate danger.
A few minutes later, a clatter echoes, reaching the three of us.
I pause, listening. A muffled curse follows, then silence.
It’s a friendly reminder of the risks that come with haste.
“I can’t believe they didn’t give us any weapons,” Benjamin says.
I lift my flashlight. “I could bludgeon you to death with this, no problem.”
“You know what I mean.” He rolls his eyes. “It’d be nice to have a knife at least.”
“Aside from the other recruits, the real danger in these tunnels isn’t something that can be stabbed or shot,” I say.
Declan nods. “You know this place is filled with boobytraps meant to slow us down.”
“Or kill us,” I say.
“I’m cool with a boobytrap.” When I make a face at Declan, he shrugs. “Boobytrap is party boob spelled backward. Who doesn’t like that shit?”
I can’t keep from smiling. “You’re a stupid ass.”
“Love you, too, fucker.”
We advance slowly, the beams of our flashlights sweeping over the damp walls and uneven floor.
Benjamin’s earlier comment about weapons sticks with me as we navigate the dusty path.
Our true weapon here is our wits, and I find myself falling back on the lessons learned in these very shadows.
They were about patience, observation, and the importance of anticipating every possible threat and outcome.
My boot sinks into the dirt, which is growing increasingly damp as we walk. The water seeping through the cracks in the walls pools around my feet. With each step, the water rises, first lapping at my ankles, then soaking my pants.
“How deep do you think it is?” Benjamin asks.
“I don’t know. Stay on the perimeter, using the wall as a guide.”
I study the small body of water that’s now up to my waist, but it’s hard to judge the depth with only a flashlight to pierce the murky substance. Keeping one hand on the wall to steady myself, I wade through the water, the chill of it seeping into my bones.
A loud splash grabs my attention, and I spin around to find Benjamin emerging from the water. “You good?” I call out.
He nods and brushes his hair from his face. “I stepped in a fucking hole.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t twist your ankle,” Declan says. “That would’ve fucked you for the remainder of the Trial.”
I face forward and continue on. My foot catches on something submerged, not a rock or a sudden dip, but something that feels unnaturally straight and solid.
I crouch slowly, reaching into the icy water to investigate.
My fingers close around a cylindrical object. With a tug, I free it from the muck.
“Here’s a weapon,” I say, lifting the rusted pipe.
“I’ll take ‘things that can be used to beat the shit out of someone’ for $500, Alex,” Declan says behind me.
Benjamin laughs. “Really, bro? Jeopardy right now?”
“YOLO, motherfucker.”
I grin. “I think it was Colonel Mustard, in the tunnels, with a lead pipe.”
Benjamin groans. “Fuck both of you right now.”