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“Our family, Bexley,” he counters.
My lips part to question him, but no words leave my mouth as realization begins to dawn on me. I vaguely remember Alex trying to feed me all this bullshit back in high school. Stories of the town’s founding families and their shady operations. But I didn’t care then, and I still don’t. It’s just rumor and urban legend.
Isn’t it?
"Tonight, you begin the journey to take your rightful place in Gravestone, Son."
My head spins, his words blurring into just noise. Blood rushes past my ears with a whoosh, the racing of my heart making my chest heave.
I have no idea how much time passes, but I don't come back to myself until Marcus pushes an ornately carved box toward me. There's a crest in the top, one that looks vaguely familiar, but I have no idea where I might have seen it before.
"This is for you."
Hesitantly, I reach out, running my fingertip over the smooth wood.
"Open it," he demands, and I flip the brass catch and lift the lid.
"What the—" I stare down at the contents, my brows pinching in confusion.
"They're part of your initiation—or Initium, as we call it."
"I-initiation?” My voice cracks.
What the actual fuck?
I look at him and then back to the contents: a gold ring with that same crest stamped in it, and a glass vial.
"W-what's this for?" I ask pointing to the little bottle with a gold lid.
"Your blood."
"I-I'm s-sorry, what?" I splutter.
"Your blood," he repeats, like it's the most obvious thing in the fucking world.
"This is a joke, right?” Sweat beads down my bac
k. “This has to be a fucking joke."
"No, Bexley. This is your reality. You are one of the five Electi."
I slump back in the chair as I think about that word, about the guys I know who hold that title.
Fucking hell.
I scrub my hand down my face, praying that I'm fucking dreaming, that I'm going to wake up any moment and realize that none of this is real.
"I need you to strip down and put that on." He lifts his chin to a coat stand in the corner of the room behind me, where a black cape that resembles his is hanging up.
"Strip off?"
"Yes. Then we need to leave.”
I look between Marcus, the box, and the cape. My lips part to question all of this, but no sooner has my mouth opened then it closes again.
I'm speechless.
Utterly fucking speechless.
