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Aiden’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked up at me. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead and into his eyes.
“It’s a privilege and an honor to go from Apprentice to Master, from a Squire to a Knight.” I slid my hand beneath Aiden’s chin, and his jaw tightened in response. “You have one more test. If you pass, you will become one of us. You can see your sister again.”
He fought his anger over being kept apart from Alex for the past six months. But my madness had a method Aiden would understand once he became a Knight.
The Devil’s Knights were more than a secret organization. We were a cabal built by the country's richest families—blue-blooded males who used their money and influence to control everything from political outcomes to environmental events.
Controlled, patient, pragmatic, and powerful, we were like our criminal counterparts. But we operated with the notion that men needed more than a simple code of silence to keep their mouths shut. And Aiden was one step closer to paying the ultimate price of membership.
Alex tried to scream against my hand, but no one could hear her over the loud music. Not like the guards would come to her aid. With my arm wrapped around her middle, I dragged her to the couch at the center of the room like a lion leading his prey into a cave. She wiggled around in my arms, attempting to break free.
Good luck with that, baby girl.
I ripped my grandfather’s knife from her bloody fingers, shoving it into my back pocket. My girl was so predictable. I knew she would remember, eventually. And once she did, I knew she would go into self-preservation mode because I was the villain in her story.
She had no reason to think she was safe with me. Not after all the shit she had put me through. What she’d put my family and The Devil’s Knights through.
Alex attempted to kick and slap me, though it was no use. I lowered her onto the couch, pinning her to the cushion. The music cranked through the speakers, the beat drowning out her cries.
I used this room for my wild parties. It was ten times the size of a normal living room and had enough furniture to accommodate everyone in Devil’s Creek. “DON’T CHASE THE DEAD” by Marilyn Manson ended, bathing the room in silence for a moment as the tracks switched. A playlist I prepared to help Alex remember. “Sweet Dreams” by Marilyn Manson was next.
Marilyn Manson was Aiden’s favorite band. The doctors said familiar smells and sounds triggered memories. Taking her pretty ass to Beacon Bay was all part of the plan. The Serpents were under my command and agreed to play along. Anything to get our queen back. Because even their survival depended on the future of The Devil’s Knights.
Barefoot and dressed in skimpy pajamas, Alex squirmed beneath me as I caged her against the cushion, my hand still over her mouth. She could fight me all she wanted. I was over a foot taller than her and had at least sixty more pounds of muscle.
“If I release my hand, are you going to scream?”
Alex shook her head, her tears wetting my skin. I dropped my hand, and she released a sob.
“What is wrong with you, Luca?” Alex’s chest rose and fell against mine. “Turn on the lights.”
“No.”
She let out a whine, her fear of the dark taking over. This was all part of the plan. To trigger her memories, I needed to bring out some of her worst fears. It was a risky treatment, but I would have tried anything once. Her doctors warned me about the adverse effects, but I was desperate.
“I got you, baby.” I swiped my finger beneath her eyes, capturing her tears. “Don’t cry.”
“How could you do that to me? You chased me… You left that knife in my bed,” she sobbed with fear dripping from her tone. “And now what? Are you going to kill me?”
“You remember what you did,” I pointed out.
No longer fighting me, she sighed. “Yes.”
It worked. I flipped the switch in her brain.
Sliding my arm behind her back, I cradled her head against my chest and held Alex as she cried on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Luca,” she wheezed. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“In this town, I’m the judge, jury, and executioner.” I grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to look up, even though it was too dark. “What do you think is an acceptable punishment for attempted murder?”
Her body tensed, and I could feel her withdrawing from me. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know what I do to my enemies? Hmm?”
“I’m afraid to ask,” she muttered.
“I cut off their heads and mail them back to their family.”
She shifted her weight, attempting to get out from under me. “Luca, please. I didn’t mean to…”
