Chapter 53
During the trip to retrieve the McKenzie heir, I lose count of the number of times I consider crashing the vehicle. There’s no escaping this. Under my father’s shrewd gaze, and with a gun pressed against my skull, I stay on the road, going as fast as possible. The sooner we get this over with, the better.
Beside me, Benjamin sits in stunned silence, working his jaw from side to side. His initial surprise at our arrival quickly turned to anger as soon as he grasped the full extent of the situation. I can’t blame him, but Delilah will always come first.
It’s the one thing we agree on.
Eventually, we arrive at our destination. My father, surrounded by four different men unknown to me, leads Benjamin and me into the catacombs hidden beneath the fraternity grounds. What Edward Donovan plans to do is treason. It’s the only explanation for why he has strangers guarding him instead of crows.
The path ahead, known only to leaders of the founding families, is dusty and moss-covered, giving the impression of disuse. But it’s the heart of the society, that place that holds the many secrets we have accumulated since South Harbor Colony was first discovered. The atmosphere is dense with centuries of legacy, tradition, and power.
My father walks ahead with a confident stride. Benjamin remains beside me, his face a mask of stoic resignation, aware of the danger that lies ahead. I follow with my senses alert and my muscles taut. Although I’m focused on the threats all around me, my thoughts always return to Delilah.
I’ve been obsessively checking my smartwatch, looking at the screen to check that her heart is beating steadily. That she’s alive.
Except she’s no longer at the hospital.
I frown at the notification displayed on the screen. Did Declan take Delilah away from there to keep her safe? It’s the only plausible explanation for why she’d leave. Regardless of the reason, it leaves me unsettled.
Our group enters a large stone chamber, lit by flickering torches and lined with ornate paintings of the original ten leaders of the founding families. My father comes to a halt before the largest painting, a portrait of a man with dark hair and blue eyes. The first Donovan.
“Here is the heart of the Order,” he says, his voice low and reverent. “This is where we come to honor our ancestors and the sacrifices they made for us. The history of our family is written on these walls, passed down from generation to generation.”
He leads us to the ancient oak door that marks the catacombs’ entrance. The wood has carvings of intricate symbols and runes, their meanings known only to those who founded the Order. It stands unyielding, a barrier between us and the secrets that lie beyond.
Guarding the door are two figures, two crows that have the highest honor of protecting the vaults. The “Keepers” step forward, their faces hidden behind ceremonial masks. Their hands are raised, palms out, a silent gesture of welcome and respect. My father returns the greeting, his palms meeting theirs.
“Master Donovan.” The Keeper on the left nods to my father, his voice a low rumble. “And young masters,” he adds, acknowledging Benjamin and me with a curt nod. “How can I assist you?”
“I want to access the Donovan family vault,” my father says. “May the Order continue to serve and protect.”
The Keeper on the right tilts his head. “You know the rules, Master Donovan. To keep the secrets that lie within, and to prevent leaders from stealing, only one may enter at a time.”
My father nods. “I am aware, Keeper. I’m willing to take the risk and will abide by the consequences.”
Both of the Keepers jerk back, their gazes widening behind their masks. The one on the left is the first to recover. “You realize that this is a crime within the Order?”
My father nods. “Yes, but I don’t give a shit.”
The mercenaries on either side of him lift their concealed firearms, all of them firing a single shot. The Keepers crumple to the floor, their masks cracked and bloody, their eyes sightless and empty.
I shake my head at my father’s audacity. Every Keeper has a ILR surgically implanted inside their chest once they’re given this sacred position. If they’re killed, the monitoring device will notify the leaders of the new status of their lifeless hearts. Then there will be hell to pay, and the currency is death.
“I won’t let scruples get in the way of my empire,” Edward says. He turns to look at me and Benjamin. “The others have been notified. We only have three minutes before we’re trapped down here. Move quickly.”
When he opens the door, a rush of cool, damp air greets us, carrying with it the musty scent of earth and decay. It’s like stepping into another world, one forgotten by time and shrouded in mystery. Each step is a journey deeper into the society’s dark tapestry of rituals and power.
“They used to perform virgin sacrifices here,” my father says with a smile in his voice. “It was before my time. When I take over the Order, I might consider bringing that ritual back.”
The deeper we venture, the more the oppressive history of the place seeps into my skin. These catacombs have witnessed centuries of depravities, of decisions that have altered the courses of lives far beyond their stone confines. Tonight will be no different.
We finally come to a small cavern which houses a tunnel that’s specific to each founding family, the surname marked above the entrance. My father enters the McKenzie tunnel.
“Move faster,” he snaps.
We follow him until he comes to a halt at the end of the tunnel where the vault lies. My father looks at Benjamin expectantly. “Place your hand on the panel.”
Benjamin shakes his head, and the men guarding my father raise their weapons in his direction. With no alternatives, he outstretches his hand, resting his palm on the flat surface. He looks back at me, his expression unreadable.
After a soft click, the wall slides back, revealing the interior of the vault. We step inside, the room a treasure trove of artifacts, books, and scrolls. The scent of dust and musty paper wafts under my nose.
“Watch them,” my father instructs the mercenaries. “Especially my son. He could kill all of you within seconds.”
One of the men, someone around my age, steps closer to me, digging the end of his pistol into my back. Another does the same to Benjamin, and he shoots me a pointed look.
I nod. We’re going to have to act soon if we want to live.
“Where is that fucking USB?” My father mutters to himself as he continues searching through the items, his movements becoming more frantic with every second.
“There’s a flash drive on the table,” one of the gunmen says.
My father smiles, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “Excellent. I need to check the contents before we leave, or else I’ll have compromised my position for nothing.”
The gunman removes his backpack to retrieve a laptop. He quickly powers it on and plugs in the flash drive. My father watches as the files appear on the screen, his face betraying nothing.
Then he lets out a long breath. “After all these years… finally!” He spins to face me and Benjamin. “Can you imagine the efficiency of communicating via satellite? It’s a shame, really. If your father hadn’t refused to hand over his prototype, I wouldn’t have killed him.”
My watch vibrates, indicating a change in Delilah’s location. I stare in disbelief when I realize she’s nearby. In the catacombs.
I’m going to fucking kill Declan.
Benjamin’s face goes ashen. “You killed my father?”
Edward waves a hand. “Of course, I did. Your father believed that the tech would create more chaos than the Order could control.” My father scoffs. “You can imagine my surprise when I learned about the DNA vaults your father implemented. Thank goodness I found his bastard.”
“And now that you have the tech?” Benjamin asks.
“Now, I will rule the Order.”
My father’s declaration echoes ominously through the vault, his ambitions laid bare in the chilling damp of the catacombs. Benjamin glances at me, his eyes wide with a mix of shock, betrayal, and a dawning realization of the depth of deception that has governed his life.
“The Order values balance, not a dictatorship,” Benjamin says quietly, his voice carrying a steely resolve. “Even if you kill me, this won’t end here.”
My father laughs, a haunting sound that reverberates against the stone walls. “With this technology, I”ll ensure our dominance for generations. No one will dare challenge us.” He turns to look at me. “Finish your training, son. Kill the McKenzie heir and take your place by side. Or die.”
His cold gaze locks onto mine, his command reverberating in my skull. “Xavier, kill him now.”
I shift slightly, the gun against my back digging deeper. “We’re running out of time. The other crows will be here soon.”
His expression hardens, the lines of his face set in a grim determination. “Do it, or I will.”
“Fine,” I say. “Give me a gun.”
My father jerks his chin at the man pressing the firearm into my spine. “Give it to him.”
Benjamin eyes me cautiously as I take the weapon from the gunman, testing its weight in my hand. For a split second, the tension in the air thickens as I level the gun at Benjamin, my expression neutral.
“Hey, McKenzie, you have some shit on your face,” I say.
Understanding dawns in Benjamin’s eyes, and he lunges at the mercenary nearest to him. The room bursts into chaos as his body slams into the gunman, wrestling fiercely to gain control of his weapon.
Simultaneously, I aim my firearm at the man next to me and shoot. The sound fills the room as he collapses to the ground.
The third mercenary swings his weapon in my direction, and I dive to the ground. A gunshot rings out overhead, and my body tenses, bracing for impact. I lift my head, my gaze darting back and forth.
The gunman stumbles back and falls, and his firearm clatters on the stone floor. Declan, calm and precise, steps into the vault.
Okay, maybe I won’t kill him.
In the midst of the commotion, my father springs into action. He tackles me with the ferocity of a cornered animal, his weight and momentum squeezing the breath from my lungs. He knocks the gun from my hand as I gasp for air and wraps both hands around my neck.
“You fucking traitor,” he hisses, spittle flying as he strangles me. “You’re a disgrace to the Donovan name!”
I twist sharply, breaking free from my father’s deadly grasp, and suck in a lungful of air. His eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly regains his composure, moving in to engage once more.
We grapple, our bodies a combination of violence and exertion. I try to use my speed and strength to my advantage, but my father’s years of training and experience give him the upper hand. With a swift leg sweep, he catches me off balance and I stumble back.
His skill is undeniable. Each time I think I have an opening, he anticipates my next move, countering with precision. Frustration builds inside me, but I push it down, struggling to stay alive. Before I my strike lands, he immobilizes my arm, forcing me to my knees before pinning me to the ground.
He digs his knee into my chest, his grip on my throat firm and unyielding. “You’re good,” he says, slightly out of breath, “but not good enough.”
“Remember that when I kill you,” I rasp.
A burst of movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. That’s when I see her.
My little raptor.
Fucking Declan. I’ve changed my mind: I’m definitely going to kill him.
Delilah emerges from the shadows like an avenging angel. With the jeweled dagger in her hand, she moves swiftly, her feet barely touching the stone floor. My gaze sweeps over her, taking in the fierce determination etched across her face.
I need to warn her to stay away, to get the fuck out of here, but I can’t breathe, let alone speak. My father tightens his grip around my neck, and my vision blurs. Desperation claws at me as I struggle against him, but I’m losing consciousness.
In a flash, Delilah is there with her weapon raised. She doesn’t hesitate, her movements precise and deadly. She drags the dagger across my father’s throat. His blood splashes onto me as he swings wildly, his fist connecting with her chest.
Delilah screams in agony. Then she drops to her knees, hanging her head, her hair a golden curtain shielding her face from me.
My father falls backward, his eyes wide with shock and pain before the life inside leaves them completely. I roll over to my hands and knees, gasping for air, my lungs burning.
Then I’m crawling to my girl, doing whatever it takes to get to her.
I pull Delilah to me and cradle her in my arms. Blood stains her shirt, the red soaking more of the material with every second. Fear grips me, strangling as effectively than my father’s hands.
I. Can’t. Lose. Her.