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The humid air clung to my face and underarms. My new beautiful gown was now ruined by sweat, and my hair was a frizzy mess. I'd lost my heels.
The sounds of chanting made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Gold demon horns led the way, with two men on both sides of me, holding me tight, forcing me forward at a quickened pace.
A splinter in the wood at my feet made me wince and stumble, but the two men kept me upright.
There was a low pounding noise, and I couldn’t tell if it was my frightened heart, or something else.
"What's going on?" My words sounded weak and frightened. All sense of confidence I'd felt from earlier had vanished in a second.
I'd been laughing at Tucker only minutes earlier, trying to keep my jealousy stifled while watching Rook talk to that woman.
Now, I was being dragged over the marsh on a thin and rickety dock. The moon was full overhead, and dread filled my chest at the sight ahead: a group of men at the end of the dock.
They were all wearing dark suits and matching black masks, hiding their eyes. The mood was serious, somber, dangerous.
I struggled to breathe, my airway blocked by the panic rising inside me.
When we'd reached the men, I was forcefully dumped, falling at the feet of these men.
The pounding sound grew louder, and I realized it wasn’t my heart, but drums and chanting. The sound grew louder, casting an eerie sound over the swamp. I gulped, feeling lightheaded.
Two polished shoes approached, and I looked up to stare at the man: a bald head and a trimmed, black and grey beard. He didn’t wear a mask.
"Summer Duvall,” Emerson Forten said. "You have been called to council."
There was the stomping of feet from the men on the dock. Combined with the pounding of drums in the background, it matched the pounding of my heart.
"Y-yes?" I tried to be brave. I climbed to my feet and looked at the men. Most of them were still wearing masks, fucking cowards. I stared them in the eyes defiantly. At this, a few of them seemed to grow uncomfortable, some of them glancing away.
"Saul Vanderhorst has informed me that you were assigned a specific task." Emerson said, nodding at the man in the gold, demon-horned mask: Saul.
He was flanked by another man, and I stared in shock, suddenly realizing who he was: Harrison. The red-haired boy who’d tried to hurt me the night of mom’s wake.
He was Saul’s son.
I’d forgotten that until this moment, seeing them standing next to each other. Even though they each had a different hair color, everything else about them was the same, including the coldness in their eyes.
"Despite my many warnings,” Saul said, “it doesn't seem that you've gotten any useful information on Mr. Craven," he said, a cold sneer to his words, "except for maybe a good fuck or two, which does nothing for the Magnolia." He looked at Emerson, “The man is clearly infatuated with her, but she's been unable to gather any advantageous secrets we can use against the man. At least, none that she's shared with me.”
“The slut’s probably not even trying,” Harrison jeered. “Giving away that pussy for free.”
“Shut up,” Saul barked at him, making Harrison’s jaw snap shut, his angry eyes flashing at me.
"Is this true, Miss Duvall?" Emerson asked. There was disappointment in his tone.
Undergrove, Undergrove, Undergrove, the word repeated itself over and over in my head. Rook's real last name, the information he'd given me to use for this exact moment. It sat on the tip of my tongue like a weight.
But my throat was tight, and I was choking, drowning, unable to speak.
How could I possibly reveal Rook’s secret? After everything he’d done for me?
And hadn’t I promised mom I would protect the ones I loved?
Did I love Rook?
"Do you understand the consequences if you cannot fulfill your obligations?" Emerson asked.
