Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Zee
The air is different in Eastmount.
I notice it now more than ever.
It’s chilly. Drafty. Cold. But not as cold as it feels without him.
The humidity seeps through my clothes in a way I’ve only experienced near the water. Eastmount is smack in the middle of the city. It doesn’t make sense. Not much here does.
So let’s change that.
Students stop and whisper as I make my way towards the giant house in the middle of the campus.
Eastmount Manor.
Guys smirk, and girls whisper as I march towards the doors.
I’m not discreet this time. I don’t hide behind bushes or sneak up to the door when no one’s looking.
I want them to see me.
I’m in my version of a powersuit. My father’s old blazer, a new lacey black corset and my baggy jeans.
My fist comes to the large wooden doors.
With one knock, it opens.
A few young men stand on each side of the entrance in dark blazers, their eyes all on me. Some I recognize from the party, others from around campus.
Atlas isn’t one of them.
My chest falls, my eyes moving to who stands at the top of the grand staircase.
It’s the man Atlas spoke to that day. The man Kon mentioned.
Father.
He’s expecting me.
A smile spreads across his face, his dark, slick hair pulled back to highlight small, dark eyes.
The only woman in this place is the one who stands next to him in a long, red dress. She’s young and pretty. Shiny dark hair, the ends curled to perfection. Her makeup matches her look—precisely lined eyes and lips painted like she’s ready for her cover shot. She was with him in the parlour.
She stares at me without emotion, like she hasn’t had any for a long time. The rest of the men around her look intrigued or content. Unbothered. But she’s not even that.
She’s vacant.
I scan the space again, looking for those eyes. That hair. Those muscles. But I don’t see him.
“Azalea,” Father speaks, his voice echoing against the tall walls.
“Zee,” I correct.
“Zee is not a name. It’s a letter.”
Fuck this guy.
“Where’s Atlas?” I look around the space again, then behind me, as if he’ll walk through the door.
But he doesn’t.
“Have you met Cherise?” Father ignores my question, but I’m used to that here. “Isn’t she a remarkable woman?” His finger traces her chin, down to her neck, following the plunging neckline to her naval. She doesn't even flinch. “Like Eastmount, she’s exquisite. Perfection. Do you know why?"
“Bet you’re gonna tell me.” I glance over the men again, an emptiness filling my chest.
Where the fuck is Atlas?
“In Eastmount, there’s security,” Father says. “Safety. Family. Azalea, you’re family. Just like your father.”
A hammer hits my chest, heat spreading down to my arms.
“What do you know about my father?” My eyes narrow into his.
“Tell me. Will you join us, Sister?” He stretches his arms wide.
“I’ll answer your question when you answer mine. What do you know about my father? And where the hell is Atlas?”
He chuckles. "We protect our own, Azalea.” My stomach knots at the way he keeps saying my fucking name. “We’ve protected Brother Ambrose as much as we can. We even tried to protect him from you. Are you done resisting?”
“Resisting death?”
“Death will not find you if you join us."
“And if I don’t? You saying I'll die?"
His grin widens. “There will be repercussions to face for how you’ve both acted.”
I blink.
How the hell am I supposed to commit to something so big when he won’t even answer my one question?
Silence covers the room, my throat closing in.
Father lowers his arms, a small twitch in his brow. “I understand.” He makes a motion with his arm before turning away. “Escort her out.”
“Wait!" I speak before I can think.
All that's on my mind is him.
If Atlas is still here, I need to find him. If this is what leads me to him, I’ll take my chances. These chances include safety and security. Love. I can’t find that in the city. Drey’s guys will keep hunting me for what he did. For what we caused.
“I’ll join you.” My fists clench.
"Good." Father nods, gesturing to his men again. “Let it begin.”
Two men grab me.
“Wh—” I pull, but they grip tighter.
Heat spreads through me as they drag me with them, following Father through the small hallway.
I gaze into my father’s eyes in a photo as I move into the parlour. He doesn’t look like he did in those photos with Lola and Atlas. He looks like Cherise. Vacant.
“Oomph!” A sharp pain travels up my legs as I’m pushed to my knees, right on the hardwood floor.
Father takes a seat on a tufted leather sofa in front of a large coffee table with a chessboard.
I’m right where Atlas stood that day, right where he was when he said those words.
“I will end her.”
Is this what they’re about to do?
The spiral hits hard, like a bullet to my head.
Is he even here?
Did they kill him?
Slap!
The lights dim, a sharp sting coming to my face.
My hand comes to my cheek, my head moving to my right.
A red leather strap hangs from a man’s hand.
“What the fuck?”
Slap!
Another sting rips through my face when he does it again. Then he returns to standing, his hands behind his back, like this is fucking normal.
Looking ahead, Father’s face is sterner than it was by the entrance. “A foul mouth is unacceptable for you, Virgin Sister.”
A snort escapes me, even with the sting lingering on my skin. “Oh, I’m not a virgin.”
If you have to be some untouched lamb to join in, Atlas and I already have a big problem.
“You will be born again.” Father lifts his hand. “Rise for me.”
“Then why the fuck was I forced to kneel?” I mutter, pushing to my feet.
The man with the leather strap moves towards me again.
I flinch, expecting an answer to my curse, but Father holds a hand up, stopping him.
“Disrobe.”
What? “No.”
He sighs, like I’m being unreasonable.
What the fuck is Atlas a part of?
What the fuck was my father a part of?
“Azalea, this is merely the process you signed up for.”
“I signed up for a family. Safety, like you said. I’m sorry, but this doesn’t feel safe, Father.”
“This is family.”
My patience pops. “Where the fuck—”
Slap!
My body stills, my nostrils flaring.
Heat flows through my face as I try again. “Where is Atlas?”
“To be fit with any of our men, you need to go through The Process.”
“Does that involve slapping me with every other word? And watching me strip?”
He laughs. Loud. “You give us light, Azalea.”
With a snap of his fingers, two men come towards me.
I take a step back, right into another hard body.
Looking back, my heart sinks when I don’t see his face.
The man behind me wraps his arms around mine, the same way Jonesie did outside of Dirty Diana’s. A shock rips through my body.
I writhe, flaying to get out of his hold. “Wait, what the fuck!?”
Slap!
The minute that belt hits my face again, someone pulls my blazer off me, my bra exposed to the cold air. To these men. To him.
“Do you want to join us, Azalea?” Father asks.
“Yes, but—what the fu—!”
My bra rips off me next.
Something cold slides against my waist, then my jeans rip off like tearaways. My panties follow. They all come off so quickly before one man takes it all to Father.
I scream when something cold splashes over me. Looking up, someone holds a bucket over my head, dousing me with ice-cold water.
My breath heaves, my body a mix of cold, hot, wet, and pain. I press my hands against the man with the bucket, pushing him away.
The bucket thuds to the ground.
He pushes me back with a strong, heavy force. It’s so strong, I stumble, falling to the wet floor. His boot comes to my face.
Slap!
Sting.
Slap!
Sting.
Slap!
That leather strap slaps me again and again, the wetness on my skin making it hurt so much more.
I’m confused. Scared. Cold and naked, and the only thing I have to rely on is this man’s word.
Is Atlas even here at all?
He wouldn’t let this happen to me.
He wouldn’t let them touch me.
I curl up against the stone, waiting until the onslaught of stings comes to a stop.
I keep his face in my mind. The way he uses impact to keep me alert while giving me his full attention.
With a deep inhale, I listen.
My heart pounds against my chest.
Water trickles between the grooves of the wooden floor.
Father laughs.
“Your father was traitorous."
My head lifts, my hair soaked against my face.
The slaps stopped.
Father stares at me, unbothered. “We didn’t get a chance to break him due to his deserved departure. But, let's see if we can break you.”
The world tilts as Father's words linger in the air.
“You… you did it.” My eyes narrow.
They killed him. They fucking killed him.
It wasn’t Atlas.
It was this fucker.
“We hope you won’t meet the same fate.”
He snaps his fingers before the doors open.
Someone steps into the room, but I can hardly lift my head to see who.
“She will be your chosen,” Father says.
“Thank you, Father.”
A voice comes from above me.
One I recognize.
One that makes the emptiness in my stomach deepen.
It's not who I hoped.
Not one bit.
It's hard to push up off the ground, my body as weak as my mind.
When I lift my head, I meet those blue eyes and that scarred face.