XXIV
SILAS
“What is the fuck is this?”
My voice shakes the walls of my dorm, but I barely hear it over the roaring in my head. Tension crackles through the air like electricity. The phone leaves my hand before I can think it through, smashing against the wall, the screen shattering on impact. The cracked glass reflects the dim light of the room, distorting the image that sent me into this spiral of rage.
A photograph.
Vivienne and Marita.
In the cloisters.
Kissing.
A moment that should not have been caught on camera.
The others are already in the room that Cedric and I share. Their expressions all range from silent disbelief to anger, similar to what’s sparking through my veins.
No one speaks at first.
No one knows what to say.
This is a secret we all swore to keep for as long as we needed to do .
Alistair sits on the edge of my bed, his fingers interlaced. Max stands near my desk, arms crossed, his jaw tight with tension—he’s probably angrier than I am.
Cedric?
He’s the only one who looks even remotely composed. Leaning against the closet with an air of casual indifference. But I know that look.
That blank stare?
It’s calculated.
He’s watching.
Assessing.
I begin pacing, my hands clasped behind my back. The familiar rhythm of my steps against the wooden floors are the only thing keeping me from snapping completely.
“How did this happen?” I hiss, my voice deceptively calm. “How did we allow this to happen?” I stop pacing, my eyes narrowing at each of them.
Cedric lets out a slow sigh. “We all knew the stakes. Augustine has a no-nonsense policy for sins—but only if they see it.” His lips curl slightly. “And I’m certain we made sure they never did.”
“Cedric even pretended to date Marita for a while…” he scoffs. “I had to knock a few people around last semester when they started spreading rumors. Especially that ex-girlfriend of Vivienne’s.” His voice drops, barely restrained fury vibrating through every syllable. “But now? Now it’s out in the open.”
And that’s the problem.
There’s actual evidence .
This won’t be ignored.
Expulsion is a very real possibility.
And even with all our connections, all of our wealth—an expulsion from Augustine is a permanent stain. Their futures will be shattered.
Vivienne would have to crawl back to her no-name family.
And Marita? She would be erased from the Devereux name forever.
As members of The Order of The Holy Sacrament we swore a vow to each other—to protect one another’s lives, even if it meant giving up our own. And that vow extends to our families.
Vivienne annoys the hell out of me. But she’s dating Max’s sister and that makes her one of us. And no one hurts one of our own and gets away with it.
The silence in the room grows thicker by the moment. The longer we sit there, the more I get the feeling that they all know something I don’t. The hair on the back of my neck stands on edge.
“What aren’t you guys telling me?” I ask.
They look between each other.
Then back at me.
Cedric is the first to speak. “While you were away, Lucian came to issue us a warning.”
Lucian?
Just the thought of him burns like poison.
“What kind of warning?”
Alistair says, “He threatened to expose The Order.”
“Why?”
I stare directly at Cedric. How did I miss his bruised nose?
“He wants you to leave Eden alone. ”
In any other instance, I would have laughed.
He sought to control me through fear by threatening my friends, by attempting to make them feel powerless because he detests The Order.
Too much of a coward to confront me because of how it went the last time. The shift that I was aware of that couldn’t understand, that felt like my bond with Eden was being undone, the thoughts that drove me to the brink of madness because I felt like something was pulling her away from me.
It wasn’t something.
It was someone.
That’s the last spark needed to ignite my rage.
I move to the center of the room with slow steps, commanding the attention of the others. They look to me—looking up to me—because at the end of the day, they know that how we deal with this is ultimately my decision as leader of The Order.
“First.” My voice is eerily controlled. I feel The Spirit pressing against the veil between our worlds, its tendrils seeping into my thoughts. “We can’t let Marita and Vivienne get expelled.”
I clench my fists, looking down to examine my knuckles. The faint marks from the last time Lucian and I were alone together still remain. “This is their final fucking year here. And if this school kicks them out, the mess will be too big for us to clean up—even the four of us combined.” And Eden might end up being collateral damage, even if she didn’t know about Vivienne and Marita’s relationship.
Cedric nods, cracking his knuckles absently. “Agreed.”
Alistair remains silent. I see the gears turning behind his eyes. Though he’s never been one for words, he can be especially ruthless when someone he cares about is in danger. But Max? Max is murderous.
“He crossed a line, threatening us.” A familiar darkness starts to consume me, one I’ve been trying to keep at bay for the sake of preserving my relationship with Eden. “This is inexcusable. And if I had to guess—this picture and Lucian are related.”
It doesn’t feel like my voice.
This doesn’t feel like my body.
But I always knew that this was the price of being The Spirit’s vessel.
Losing pieces of my humanity until the wrongs committed against The Order have been righted. I walk to my bed, kneeling to retrieve something from underneath.
My fingers close around cold metal. I pull out a baseball bat, its dark metallic surface splattered with the blood of other people who dared to cross me, the nails hammered into it gleaming in the light streaming through the window.
Max exhales, his fingers twitching.
Cedric moves next, reaching into his nightstand. He pulls out a set of brass knuckles, slipping them over his fingers with practiced ease.
Alistair?
He doesn’t say a word, just simply slides a hunting knife from his pocket, twirling it once before resting it on his thigh. I run a finger along one of the rusted nails on my bat. I smile, imagining Lucian’s face—bloodied and disfigured, the life pouring out of him.
“We will burn him on the altar.”
The voice slips into my consciousness, sounding like my own.
“I’m going to kill him with my bare hands,” Max growls .
“Retribution awaits,” I say to them. “Zoruk’thaal ven drez’katar, vulith nol kash’azir.”
The bond is forged in blood, vengeance is the sacred shield.
We move through the halls with purpose.
Not running.
Not sneaking.
We walk slowly.
Deliberately.
The other boys within the dormitory scatter when they see us coming, dread coloring their features. They know better than to stand in our way.
The hunt has begun.