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Dravin clears his throat, his voice sounding muffled behind the plague mask he donned, making him look creepy and signifying that death is coming or that it has already came and taken the soul in which it needed to claim.
The tiny hairs on my skin rise because I know more death is coming and it will include Warren.
I watch as everyone nods in agreement. Draven puts his hand on my lower back, urging me to walk toward the center. Once I’m there and in front of the ambo, he turns me around, stands behind me and continues, “She is ours as much as we are hers. Anyone harms her, they die. Anyone causes her to be distressed, they die. We can all agree that Warren is not one of us. He is not part of the Order, but of his own order and anyone who follows him, must die. All agreed?”
The beaks of the plague masks all nod in agreement. No one says anything; there’s not a single sound made or heard. I swallow hard and my eyes try to match a face to each of the masks staring straight ahead, but I can’t. I don’t recognize anyone; it’s as if who they are is one big secret. A secret that must be kept. But I still want to know who or what they are.
The only thing that makes sense in my mind is that the people before me are the true rulers of society. The Consortium’s way to balance the Order, which in turn, balances the world.
Right now, this is not a mass taking place inside a church but a house full of judges passing judgment. The setting where the gauntlet is thrown down to determine who lives and who dies. Sacrifices must be made in order to account for the deaths that have occurred and the reasons why.
Fear snakes through my body and overtakes me as I realize that no one is safe from their persecution. They are the persecutors. Both the devil and God have taken a back seat to the Consortium because they are not human, but these men are. They all have blood on their hands, which is normal to them.
And now I’m part of them.
I hear a phone vibrate followed by a ding. Dravin looks down and slides his phone out of the black robe and opens the message, the light casting a glow on the black leather of the mask. I hear a string of curses and my stomach drops; hurt grips my chest, signifying that something is wrong. Terribly wrong.
CHAPTER2
Jess
My eyes feel heavy and I roll my head from side to side, trying to remember what happened. All I remember is Reid catching me when I fell, after getting out of Michael’s car.
Michael gave me something in the hotel room. All I can remember are flashes, like a picture book of the things he did. The things I allowed him to do because a girl like me against a man like him doesn’t have much of a choice. My legs were spread wide, and I closed my eyes, wanting to think of anything that would get me through what I had to do. He told me to drink, and I was so thirsty, so I did. I tilted my head forward and he caressed me in that insane way of his that makes me shudder every time his hands, or any part of his body, meets my skin.
My eyes slowly open and I notice I’m in a room illuminated with soft light, casting shadows against the wall to my right, like they’re watching over me. Looking down, I notice that I’m on a bed and I want to scream. Lately, this is where I have had the worst happen to me. Sleep being the last thing that comes to mind.
Turning my head to my left, my eyes regain focus, and I sigh in relief. I’m in Reid’s room. His computer desk is hard to forget the one time I was here. He has these high-end computer monitors with neon lights that fade in and out, changing colors. It was the first thing that stood out when he brought me up here that night after the party. I remember sleeping over. Well, he was screwing my brains out more than anything. No kissing, no caresses, just straight fucking with no fucks given. I think I slept an hour or two the most until he went downstairs and told Gia to come up.
When I take a deep breath, I can smell the hint of his cologne mixed with his manly scent. I can hear movement below and all I want is a shower to scrub away the memory of Michael and what he did to me.
My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and my throat feels raw. I’m thirsty and I feel groggy. My limbs feel heavy and my wrists are sore from the restraints. I’m such a stupid woman, allowing him to tie my wrists, but with Michael, there is no winning. He will make me pay through my mother. When I told him it was the last time in the hotel room, he threatened my mother’s life, making the stakes go even higher and giving me no choice but to pay with the only currency he’s interested in, my body.
The sounds of footsteps outside the door cause my heart to pound and my head to look down. I lift the comforter and notice I’m only wearing a thong.
“He couldn’t help himself could he. Bastard,” I mutter.
The night in the elevator at his hotel replays in my mind. The way he treated me has my lip curling. If he walks in at this moment, I’m not sure I should tell him what I really think about him.
The door swings open and Reid walks in with concern etched across his gorgeous face. He’s an asshole but a gorgeous one. His long-sleeve black shirt is stretched across his chest and biceps. His dark, straight hair flipped to one side. His eyes are the color of midnight as they sweep across me in his bed.
He places his finger over his mouth cocking his head. “I’m not going to ask questions you probably won’t give me answers to, but you need to pick your boyfriends a little better.” He walks inside, closing the door with a thud and flicking the lock, and then reaches out with his hand to tug the comforter down my chest, exposing my breasts.
My heart begins to beat faster and my instinct is to cover my chest with the palms of my hands, flinching when my wrists sting, causing me to remember that the skin is raw. I notice a Band-Aid with a piece of cotton on my inner right elbow and my eyebrows pull into a frown.
“I had a doctor draw blood from you to see what that piece of shit gave you. All I want to know is if you went willingly, or did he rape you?” he asks in a harsh tone.
I avert me gaze because his question is complicated to answer. Has Michael raped me? Yes. Did he rape me tonight? Maybe. Did he drug me without consent? Yes. Did I go willingly? Yes. Did I want to? Absolutely not.
There are a million ways to answer him right now and all my answers would be to scream rape, but what would that solve? I believe Michael when he says he will hurt my mother. He’s unhinged and last night proved that he is willing to take this as far as it will go. In the end, I lose. And people like Reid and his secret society give two shits about someone like me.
The best answer I could give him is my silence because why would a guy like Reid care? Him bringing me here is what any moral, sane person would do. I stare at the wall and reply the best way I know how because the concern that was written in his expression has turned to annoyance.
“I went willingly, but I didn’t think he would–”
“Drug you,” he interrupts. “Well, he obviously did.” He points to my wrists. “I didn’t think you were into…other shit.” He walks over to the side of the bed and leans close; my eyes flash in challenge. His upper lip curls in disgust when his finger lightly lifts my chin. “You’re dirty and for the record,” he pauses, and his eyes slide over my skin to where my breasts are exposed to his gaze, “drugging a woman to have sex with her is for pussies.” His eyes flick up and darken like a man possessed of something sinister. “Men that do that to women deserve other things.”
I swallow thickly and I grimace because my throat feels like sandpaper. His eyes narrow at the marks on my skin on each of my wrists and I squirm when my mind starts flashing back to glimpses of what Michael did to me.
