I roll my eyes at his theatrics, slipping into the back seat. I wait for him to start driving away before I answer. “Men like Dominic have fragile masculinity. If I had walked in there with my guards, he would have only seen it as a weakness, Jordan. Weakness will get a woman killed faster than stupidity.” I tear my hair out of the slick ponytail it is in, running my fingers through my scalp to break up the strands. Kicking off my heels, I reach for my Vans and slip my socks on before tying them to my feet. I switch into some jeans and undo the buttons to the little blouse, tossing it onto the chair and changing to my vintage Versace crop. I breathe out a sigh, picking up my phone and scrolling through Instagram. Among my million and whatever followers, I’ve started sharing to TikTok too, but only when it’s riding or doing weird skits. I wish I could say that’s all to keep appearances, but it isn’t. It allows me to have fun with this side since I have none with my Mayhem side. It’s ironic. The reason why I wanted to finally join Mayhem was to enjoy my childhood more, but all it has done is try to rob it.
My phone starts ringing in my hand and I see my mother’s name flash over the screen.
“Hey, Mom…” I wondered if I would be mad at her about finding out who my real father is if I wasn’t who I was today, but I don’t think I would be. I’m still Kiznitch, more than any of them, and so I have a little Patience in me. I can’t say I’m surprised. The darkness has always lingered inside of me, I’ve just subdued it by feeding it my fears.
“Hey, honey, how is work?”
“Well,” I say, looking out the window at the passing trees and busy streets. It has been a good thing that I have my mom, and I’ll always be thankful for her on that day…
Past
Kiznitch isn’t a playground. Everyone knows that, so I hated coming back here as a kid.
Fog drifts around my ankles, and it feels a lot like my ancestors are reaching for me from below. This air would leave frost residue over my bones, the trees never grow leaves, and I’m pretty sure no one has seen a sunny day in all history of Kiznitch being founded. The land is old, the buildings ancient, the history haunted.
I stop outside the concrete gates of the driveway. I know I need to go down and stare up at the high pointed ceilings. I know this will be my home—this is going to be where I’ll stay now, unless I need to be in the US during Midnight Mayhem. I have to lay low, and to do that I need to keep my distance.
Jordan and Chris are in the front of the car, handing the security at the gate our ID before Jordan drives us forward. I watch down below as the thick fog separates the further we drive until we finally stop outside a large wooden door that has iron latches and fittings.
I have no friends in this work. No one knows who I am or what I train to be. For two years I’ve kept up appearances, but it has gotten harder, especially since Delila’s death. The stress of the business weighs down even further now that I am left to do everything without her, so I am looking forward to making Kiznitch my home. A place I can come to and be whomever I need to be.
Jordan shuts the car door after I grab my handbag, and I glare up at the ancient brickwork of Mayhem Castle.
“You know… I never thought I’d come back here, much less agree to live in it.” Unfortunately, as much as I’m learning to run the business behind the scenes, I still do answer to The Four Fathers, and what they want right now makes a lot of sense. I still don’t know why they’re so adamant to keep me hidden, even from The Brothers, but I’m guessing they have their reasons.
“All of your furniture has already been moved. You have a cook, cleaner, groundsmen, and a security team, though you won’t need one so large here since you are in Kiznitch.” I hook my arm with Jordan’s as he leads me up the steps, stopping once we reach the door. It looks as intimidating as it did when I first came here as a small child. “There are twelve bedrooms, a tennis court, a gym, theater, sauna, thirteen bathrooms, a wine cellar, and, well, downstairs…” I tuck my blue hair behind my ear, squinting my eyes up at the cobblestone architecture and stained glass shaped in the Kiznitch triangle above the door.
“Right,” I whisper. “Downstairs.” I’ve hardened myself a lot over the past two years. Mainly by circumstances. At times, I remind myself how old I am. What other eighteen-year-olds deal with all that I do?
None.
“Ahhh! You’re here!” My mother waltzes out the front door like a fairy. “Come, I will show you around and then we have just hours to prepare for the next recruit.”
“What? So soon?” I ask, staring between her and the door. “Why so soon?” It opens out to a flat open plan living area, with other rooms that lead off. A grand twin staircase is directly in front of me with blood-red carpet leading to a meeting point, before they carry on to the second level. It is all exhausted wood and withered windows, but then again—this is ground zero of Midnight Mayhem. It has a story, rich history. One I’ve dipped my toes into exploring.
My mother points to a wall. “Behind that is the kitchen. Obviously, we renovated, and to the left is the formal lounge room.” Antique sofas face each other, with a dark coffee table in-between. There is a large fireplace behind the sofa, and oil paintings hanging all over the walls. Persian rugs cover the floorboards, and every time we move, they silently squeak.
Mom continues to show me around the lower level, pointing out my office space, the theater, gym, and indoor pool, before we go upstairs to see the bedrooms. I stop after the master because I’m tired.
“Mom.” I squeeze her hand, directing her to the chaise that’s in front of my four-post bed. The room is surprisingly modern, with soft gray painted on the walls and white trimmings. It looks clean, yet sophisticated. The furniture is all mine, so none of that surprises me. “Why are we recruiting so quickly? I’ve just finished two years; I haven’t started that process yet.”
The lines around her eyes soften when her smile falls. “I know, dear, but it has to be done. You got past the first two, the last one is easy.”
Easy. Nothing about this has been easy.
I touch the black silk cover, smiling up at her. “I like this place, I think. More than that concrete jungle you all had me in.”
Her hand rests on mine. “Honey, I’m sorry that you have had to take this. Sometimes I wish it could be easy like it was for your brother, or any of the other girls—you danced, or rode, or did anything else, but what you’re having to do especially at such a young age…” She pauses for a second and I think maybe she’s finished. “But you are here for a reason. You are chosen, Cartier.” Her other hand comes to the side of my cheek. “There’s no one better for this role.”
“I know,” I answer confidently because I do. I know I’m good at what I do and that they chose me for their own reasons. “But I hate lying to Kyrin. He knows, Mom. Or he’s going to when he sees me.”
“He will survive when he finds out, but it will be on your terms, not because he figured it out.” She stands from the bed and I instantly miss her touch. “Your brother is in no position to judge you for keeping secrets. None of them are. Now…” She buries herself in my closet, her petite body disappearing into the darkness. “What can you wear tonight?”
“It’s a thing, isn’t it… the recruit…”
“Yes,” she echoes.
I close the distance and lean on the opening. “Is it just The Fathers who will be in attendance?”