by Stella Hart
“Please just stop,” I murmured.
“No.” His eyes burned with passion as he stared right into mine. “I love you, Tatum.”
I accidentally bit down on the inside of my bottom lip so hard it began to bleed. The pain wasn’t enough to stop the trembling, the way my insides had suddenly turned to liquid, the fire in my core.
Oh, no. I was so close to letting go. So close to letting myself believe him. There was a crack running all the way around the wall I’d put up around my heart, and with just a few more pushes, it was bound to come tumbling down.
“God, how far will you go?” I said in a ragged whisper.
“To save you? I’d go to the ends of the fucking earth. The thought of something happening to you makes me want to fucking die. Even the thought of what’s already happened to you.” He looked stricken, face still drawn.
I shook my head. “No. I meant how far will you go to convince me?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Lying about loving someone is a really sick thing to do,” I murmured.
He steeled his jaw. “I’m not lying,” he said. “Can you really say you don’t feel anything for me? Because I know there’s something here. Something real.”
“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” I said abruptly, avoiding his piercing gaze. “I just want to be free. If it means having to leave you behind, then so be it. Everyone here might think I’m trash because I wasn’t lucky enough to be born into a good family, but I know better. I know I deserve better than this.”
“I don’t think that about you at all. But you’re right. You deserve better than this,” he said.
“Great. We finally agree on something.” I began to well up with more tears. I didn’t want him to see me cry. Didn’t want him to see me being so weak and pathetic yet again. “Could you please leave?”
Pain twisted his face. “No. Tatum, I really do—”
I pushed him away, glaring daggers at him. “Don’t say it again. Don’t you dare fucking say it! If you actually loved me or cared about me, you would’ve believed me when I told you I didn’t sign that contract and didn’t sell myself to this hellhole!”
He lowered his gaze to the floor. “I should’ve listened to you then. I fucking regret that now, believe me.”
There was a long pause as I figured out how to respond. “Well, you can’t erase history,” I ended up mumbling.
“But I can try to fix it. And I will. I’m going to figure out a way for you to escape, okay? But it won’t be quick. Knowing what I know now, my father and a lot of the other society members are seriously dangerous, and they’ll go to any lengths to cover things up. They could hurt you if you went back out into the real world, just to shut you up. So I need to plan it out properly, and I need you to trust me. Please. I’m literally begging you, and you know I don’t fucking do that.”
He looked so earnest now, and his words had a disturbing ring of truth to them.
So maybe he really wasn’t lying after all…
I swallowed hard and looked at my feet. Brick by brick, my walls were crashing down. A silent sob punched through me, ripping through my muscles and guts. My heart felt like it was being yanked right out of my chest, then pulling back in. Over and over. In and out.
Part of me still didn’t trust him. Another part of me yearned for him, begged me to start believing him. But I was so scared. I still felt like the second I told him I believed him, it would all be revealed to be a game. A horrible trick.
“Do you believe me?” Elias asked, drawing me closer to him. I didn’t fight it this time. Even after everything that had happened, that same old jolt of attraction was there. That tingle of pure desire.
“I… I don’t know. Maybe. I need some time to think,” I replied, a tear slipping down my cheek.
He nodded and gently wiped the tear away. “I understand. Just know this. One way or another, I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise.”
“I wish I could know for sure that you were telling the truth.”
He framed my face with his hands. “You’ll know for sure soon.” He let go and turned toward the door. Then he looked back over at me. “One more thing. When you’re free and safe, you never have to see me again if that’s what you want. I don’t want that, but if you do, I’ll accept it, and I’ll still get you out of here. I promise I’ll leave you alone after that.”
The expression on his face made it seem as if saying those words physically hurt him. It made it all the more believable.
“Okay,” I whispered, looking down at my feet.
“I’ll leave you to think things over, and I’ll come and see you again soon. Goodnight, Doll,” he said.
I didn’t reply, and I didn’t look at him as he left. I was too afraid I’d jump on him and kiss him, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Not yet. I needed time and space to think things over before making any decisions like that, or else I might wind up regretting it later.
It took a moment for me to realize I was still naked. I padded into my closet to grab a warm fluffy robe. When I came out, there was a knock on the door. Elias must’ve forgotten something.
“So much for giving me space,” I called out in a weak attempt at humor as I opened the door. My eyes immediately widened. “Oh.”
It was Tobias. “Hello, Tatum. You and Elias left very early this evening.”
“Yes, I… I still haven’t been feeling well after I spent the night in the forest,” I said, my legs trembling. “Elias made me see a doctor the day after, but she said it was just a bug. I guess it’s taking a while to clear up.”
That was actually true. I’d still been experiencing pounding headaches these last couple of weeks, along with stomach cramps and dizziness.
“I see. Well, I’ll have her check you out again. I’m sure there’s some sort of antibiotics they can give you to settle things once and for all.”
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured. I hope you get hit by a truck, sir.
He regarded me with heavily-lidded eyes for a moment. I wanted to shrivel up on the spot. Finally, he spoke again. “I spoke to Ms. Davenport earlier. She told me she suspects you are vying for the hostess position for the upcoming Artemis Festival.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say.
His upper lip curled. “As much as it pains me to say it, you’ve come out as a bit of a dark horse in the race. The vote was just ten minutes ago, and the men were in overwhelming support of you.”
My brows shot up. “Wait, what?”
He smiled thinly. “Congratulations, Tatum. Your wish has been granted. The next Artemis hostess is you.”
19
Elias
The Artemis Festival had begun four days ago in a riot of music and color, everyone hyped up on whiskey, beer, molly and coke.
I’d been to a few of these week-long festivals before. All in all, they weren’t much different than Crown and Dagger’s other events—places of unrestrained fun and debauchery. There were drinks, drugs, feasts, nightly parties, hunting trips for those who were into collecting trophies, and constant entertainment in the form of shows.
Oh, and sex. Endless amounts of dirty, loud, hardcore sex.
Now, I knew it was more likely rape. Tatum wasn’t here willingly, and that meant any number of the women at the Lodge could also be trafficked victims, pretending to be eager and willing out of sheer terror. That wasn’t true consent. Just because a woman said yes to fucking these men didn’t mean she truly wanted to. Not if she was beaten and frightened into it.
Bile rose in my throat at the thought.
I still couldn’t believe how blind I’d been. Couldn’t believe I actually once thought the Lodge was no more than a pleasure palace built to cater to the mega-rich and all their wild demands. It was so much more. Beneath the extravagant surface was a nest of vipers, poison and pure evil lurking in every corner.
One day, I was going to burn every single one of them.
I sipped at a glass of scotch
as I watched Tatum out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting at the end of a long wooden table in one of the biggest courtyards, holding a golden goblet while a middle-aged man regaled her with a story about one of the previous festivals. She looked beautiful, as always, and her skin glowed golden-brown in the early afternoon sun.
She’d been picked as the festival hostess, which afforded her certain privileges and opportunities. For one, she was allowed to attend and eat at all the third-level dinners and parties—events even I wasn’t allowed at yet—and she wasn’t expected to service her master or anyone else during the festivities at any point, like the other girls were.
Her task was to entertain the men with tinkling laughter and friendly conversation during the feasts. While performing these ‘duties’, she was required to wear a flowing white gown and an elaborate gold filigree mask which wound around her eyes, flawlessly framing them. A fairly simple and cushy job, all in all.
Still, I knew the idea of speaking to these guys made her want to stab someone right in the face. Fortunately, she was handling it well, behaving graciously and easily pretending to give a shit about anything they had to say to her. The perfect hostess.
I knew why she wanted to get picked for the position, and I understood her reasoning, but I was still disturbed at the thought of what might come about if she didn’t start trusting me within the next few days. If that happened, she’d go home with another man at the end of the week, and I had no idea what the fuck he’d do with her.
I couldn’t allow that.
As promised, I’d given her space to think about what I told her the other night, but I needed to get through to her soon, because time was running out, and I knew she’d never leave with me if I couldn’t get her on my side. She wasn’t easy to reach, though. She didn’t trust me. For good reason, too. I could only hope my admission of love was enough to make her try.
I hadn’t even realized the extent of my feelings until I blurted out the words. But as soon as they were out there, I knew they were true. I didn’t just care for Tatum. I fucking loved her. I’d do anything for her.
I tried to catch her eye from the balcony I was standing on, but she didn’t notice me. She’d focused her attentions on the show going on behind the table, some sort of musical theater performance.
The costumes on the actors, singers and dancers from the shows marked the beginning of spring, as colorful as a gardener’s paradise with bold reds, bright yellows, emerald greens and garish magentas. There were sequins sparkling in the sun and feathers in every color, along with painted faces and masks. Music filled the air, festive beats lifting everyone’s spirits.
Everyone except me.
The man closest to Tatum slung his arm around her shoulder and ran his fingers through her long shiny hair. Other than that, he didn’t make any moves. Still, the idea of another man touching her in any way at all made me want to run down there and beat him black and blue.
I almost did, but in those few seconds of fury, I finally caught Tatum’s eye. She looked up at me and shook her head, her eyes widening as she mouthed something to me. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I got the impression it was something along the lines of ‘don’t do it’.
I swallowed hard and breathed deeply, uncurling my fists. She was right. If I was ever going to get her out of here, I needed to stay calm and act like I had no idea what was really going on. I had to act like I thought Tatum was here of her own volition, a highly-paid escort, until I had everything I needed to plan her exit.
It wouldn’t be much longer.
Today was my birthday, which meant my final third-level trial was happening very soon. If I passed, I’d be trusted with the society’s deepest, darkest secrets, and once I had all the information I needed from that, I’d be able to start planning Tatum’s escape. Eventually I’d also figure out a way to take Crown and Dagger down for good and let all the other women go free too.
I had no doubt I’d pass the test and make it into the third level today. The last two weeks had involved more interviews and so-called trials in the Catacombs, and I knew I’d performed well. After discovering that the society was happily condoning sex trafficking, I realized exactly what they wanted from a third-level prospect. They wanted someone who shared their values and vision, as dark and sinister as they were. Someone who’d happily participate in all their sordid shit.
So I lied. I pretended to be one of them.
During the last few meetings in the gloomy chamber beneath the Lodge, I told them exactly what I thought they wanted to hear. The interviews were similar to the first one, only the questions were darker now. Much darker. They wanted me to tell them my deepest, most depraved fantasies. Not the stuff I told them before which was basically vanilla child’s play to them (though it wouldn’t be to anyone else in the world).
I made up the sickest, filthiest shit imaginable. Lies upon horrifying lies. I told them I fantasized about beating and raping women. Choking them till they gasped for mercy and vomited. I even told them I jerked off to the thought of killing people sometimes. Women in particular.
That should be enough to make the council want me within the third-level ranks. Or so I hoped.
I glanced at my watch. My final trial was in twenty minutes. I gave Tatum one last look before stepping inside and running downstairs toward the nearest Catacombs entrance. My mind was buzzing, my limbs so charged with excitement that walking simply wasn’t an option.
“Elias.”
I came to a skidding halt at the sound of my father’s voice. I turned to face him, plastering on a genial grin. “Hey. I was just on my way to the chamber.”
“I’m heading there too, obviously,” he said with a knowing nod. His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at me, and he tilted his head to the side. “Before we go in, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been acting quite strangely these last few weeks. Is there something I should know about?”
Shit. He always saw right through me, no matter how many fake smiles I put on for his benefit.
I sighed and ran a hand over my chin. “There is something, actually. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m your father. We can talk about anything,” he said sharply.
Sure.
I feigned an embarrassed expression. “It’s just… I’m worried I won’t make it to the third level. I didn’t want to tell you how nervous I am because I figured you’d think I’m a pussy.”
Not true at all, but it seemed like a believable enough excuse for any recent reticence or weirdness.
Dad chuckled and patted my shoulder. I wanted to cut that fucking hand right off him. “I understand. I felt the same way when I was under consideration for third. It’s nerve-wracking,” he said.
I nodded slowly. It was strange to try and imagine my father at my age, not yet in the upper echelons of the society.
“Don’t worry about it,” he went on. “Obviously I can’t say anything yet, but the fact that you’re even being considered by the council at such a young age bodes well for you. It’s very rare. Some members aren’t considered until they’re well into their forties. I was twenty-seven myself when I was sworn into third, and I didn’t become president of the council until I was fifty.”
“Right. Well, that’s a positive sign, I guess,” I said, keeping my tone level and amiable.
“I’d say so, yes. And if you do make it in, it wouldn’t surprise me if you replace me as president one day,” he said, lifting one brow. “The King name certainly helps.”
No shit. When he was younger, his father—my grandfather George—was the council president. Before that, his great uncle headed up the society. In fact, over Crown and Dagger’s two hundred year history, nine of the elected presidents had been Kings.
If I’d gone down a different path in life, turned out to be a different kind of guy, this opulent den of sin might very well have been mine to control one day. I’m sure the
thought of that power and influence was tempting for others in the society, but unlike them, I actually had a fucking conscience. A soul.
I smirked. “Yeah, and I bet the fact that our family owns most of the Crown and Dagger real estate wouldn’t hurt my chances either.”
My father laughed again. “I’m sure it wouldn’t. Anyway, I need to go. Wait another five minutes before heading down there.”
“Sure.”
I watched him go, wishing my gaze could turn him to stone.
Five minutes later, I breathed in deep and stepped into the dark mouth of the north wing Catacombs entrance. From there I made my way to the same chamber all the interviews and trials had been in so far.
It was the same as every other time. Darkness, shadows, a laser pointer directing me to a particular spot. I knew there were thirteen council members, but aside from my father, I had no idea who any of them were. Some of the voices sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place them.
“Elias James King, you have showed great potential in recent weeks. You share our ideas, our vision, and our morals,” a voice boomed out from my left.
Morals? What fucking morals? I almost laughed.
“But there is one more test,” the voice droned on. “One more aspect of your personality must be examined before we make any decisions.”
I set my jaw. “I’m ready.”
“Bring him in,” said another voice.
Two torches flared with fire, lighting up the chamber. I could see the robed and hooded council members around the sides, faces still veiled in shadows. Directly ahead, a shirtless man was being dragged in through one of the other entrances by two Lodge guards. The guards brought him close to me, and one of the council members stepped closer too.
A jolt of surprise shot through me as I realized that the shirtless man was Matthew Towne, one of my father’s chief accountants. They’d become friends decades ago after meeting in college, and as a child, I’d spent quite a lot of time with Matthew when he came to visit my father for lunch or shooting sessions. Nice guy. Smart, funny.