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My silent tears have turned into soft weeping, and my subtle shakes have become full-blown trembles, and if it weren’t for Zade’s thumb slowly trailing back and forth over my waist, I would have surely died from fear already.
I try to remember Easton’s words, try to find the strength he willed me to have, desperately wanting to go out with my head held high, and as Dalton requested, I think of how much he’s loved me, of the beautiful diamond ring circling my finger. I think of Sawyer, of the grief he’s already suffered through at the hands of this organization, and how I would have done anything to take that away. But mostly, I find myself hoping that I was enough for them.
Movement catches my eye, and my heart stops, watching as Hartley Scott strides into the center of the tomb, an oil lantern in his hand. His head remains bowed, and it’s clear that whatever is about to go down here, despite the outcome, each person in the room has a great respect for the process. All but maybe Cara.
Hartley raises his stare to Zade, his gaze briefly flickering to me before finally getting on with it. “It is time,” he announces. “Let the ritual begin.” And with that, he drops the oil lantern to the ground, and an inferno spits up into the air.
Hartley returns to his position around the circle as the roaring flames quickly spread warmth through the chilling tomb, but it doesn’t matter. Zade commands the room, and his authoritative tone demands loyalty.
“We gather here in the sacred tomb of our people, amongst the spirits of our great past leaders,” he starts in a booming tone, my stomach turning with unease. “The official reign of my father, Lawson Michael DeVil, has ceased, and I stand before you, the true heir of the founding Circle and proclaim my intention to rise as the leader of our fearless organization and claim what is rightfully mine.”
As if on cue, The Circle members begin to chant, and I watch in fear, only just now realizing how fucked up this is going to be. I knew there would be chants and fire and probably a blood oath taken by each of The Circle members to declare their loyalty to their new leader, but reading about it in an old book and actually witnessing it are two very different things.
“The flesh of my flesh will perish in flames, but the blood will forever reign.”
The chant is repeated two more times before Zade moves on, that same tone turning my blood cold. “Tonight I stand, offering my soul to my people in the greatest sacrifice. A show of loyalty, a sacred vow in which shall bind me to Empire and my subjects, and with this sacrifice, I will rise as the rightful leader, my power indisputable until the time of my natural death.”
As one, The Circle drops to one knee, each of their heads bowed. “Zade Alexander DeVil,” they say, Cara’s voice coming out as a whimper. “We acknowledge your intentions, and on this night, after sixty suns and sixty moons, in this final hour before dawn, you are welcomed before the spirits of our past leaders to sacrifice the heart of an innocent and swear your unconditional loyalty to your people.”
The Circle remain on their knees as Zade raises his chin and walks around the back of the sacrificial altar, exposing me to The Circle, but what does it matter at this point?
Tears stream down my face as Zade’s broken stare locks on mine, regret heavy in his eyes. He reaches under the altar, and everything within me shatters as he produces a beautifully crafted dagger, the blade designed with intricate patterns, ones that are so similar to the lines Zade and Easton have tattooed on their bodies.
I hear Cara’s whimper across the tomb, but I only have eyes for Zade, my complete, undivided attention locked on him.
This is it. The moment both Zade and I have counted down to, the moment that has haunted us each for such different reasons. As he holds my stare, I see the plea in his eyes, begging me to continue to love him through all of the pain, through the fear and the unknown, and move on into death with courage.
“My sweet Lamb,” he murmurs, his voice so low that above the raging flames, only I can hear it. He leans down to me, pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest, lingering kiss. “I love you, Oakley,” he confesses, saying those three little words I never thought I would hear and repairing something broken within me. “Every part of me wholeheartedly belongs to you. It has since the moment I met you, and I have feared this moment, feared what would become of me.”
