Page 9 of Unmasked

“That’s good.” He turned to the Magister and The Reeve. “Anything else before we wrap up this meeting? I wish to speak to my Intended alone.”

The Magister’s hands flattened on the table. “We will meet again every week for updates. Same day, same time. There is, of course, the Holy Night ritual to consider. I didn’t feel it was necessary for the Intended to participate, but The Judic has voted for her attendance. It is now a requirement until she is reinstated fulltime at The Order. Have her here half an hour before midnight so she can prepare.”

“Yes, Magister,” Able said, bowing his head.

He and The Reeve stood, and Vaughn slowly rose from his chair. The anger still seemed to flicker on his face. He took out his phone, keeping his tone deep as he flashed it to me.

“To your room, Penelope. I’ll call soon. Answer.”

CHAPTER 3

Vaughn

It wasn’t easy facing truths that weren’t in my favor.

I started Penelope’s training with the intention of making sure she’d live through the trials. The psychology behind her history showed promise. Her mindset under pressure assured a favorable result when it came to defense.

Not under me.

It was hard admitting to myself that had I continued to train Penelope, she might have died. Knowing I could have been responsible for the death of the woman I loved was sickening. It fed the fear which in turn triggered the rage.

I was mad at myself. At how my ego made me blind—jealous.

The moves were mine. The speed wasn’t. The instinct… definitely wasn’t. I didn’t get her to that point, she did. And not alone. Elliot and Marian helped train her while she was gone for a year. The truth was hard to stomach.

“You baby her…”

Even being an asshole to her in front of everyone couldn’t hide the truth.

Dead. She could have died… because of me.

The news filled the room.

“After nearly a year out of the public eye, Penelope Taylor has officially been seen returning to society. Earlier today, she was spotted leaving her residence under private security.”

The picture on the monitor shifted, going from the news anchor to a clip of Penelope surrounded by four guards from The Order.

Calm.

Composed.

… Fucking controlled.

She was beauty and grace dressed in a light gray fitted knit sweater with charcoal slacks. The black pointed flats promised practicality while still holding to elegance. It was the dark wool coat with the sharp lines at the lapel that sharpened her appearance. Her head stayed high while she kept her focus in front of her. There was no softness from her hair framing her face. She had it pulled back in a sleek low bun, parted down the center. She was Penelope. Just not the way I remembered. She looked elite. Dangerous. She couldn’t hide that.

“While details surrounding her disappearance remain unclear, Ms. Taylor declined to comment on her whereabouts. She did have this to say.”

“Penelope, what will you do now that you’re free?”

Slowly, she glanced over.

No emotion.

No pause.

“Live.”

The screen went back to the anchor. “Sources close suggest Taylor may begin reintegrating into public life in the coming weeks. For now, questions remain. Where was Ms. Taylor for over a year, and why has she chosen to remain silent?”