Beautiful: I wish you could come back and be here for me, but it’s not allowed. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Maybe do something fun for yourself. Consider this a day off.
Me: I’ll see you tonight, beautiful. Maybe we can watch a movie. You deserve some time away from the chaos.
I know better than to say as much, but I can’t help myself. I see how possessive and manipulative those around Stacia are, and it pisses me off to no end that it takes them pushing her to the edge to get her to finally stand up for herself. I think it’s one of the reasons why she messes with both Talon and Esteban. She hasn’t said as much, but she enjoys the power of her sexuality, and takes advantage of it as her way of maintaining control. I understand it, and I’d be a dick if I even thought anything less of her because of it, which I don’t. But a part of me wants her to myself. I think she doesn’t realize what she does to all of us, and I don’t want to push her or pressure her. I don’t want to deal with Talon either.
I know I should just let it all go and think of her as the one-night stand she should be.
If only it were that simple.
Stacia exits the SUV, clearly after responding to me, and I gawk at Christos as he grabs a bag from the backseat. He pulls out a full-face mask, the silver gleaming in the harsh lights overhead. And then Stacia joins him, flipping on a diamond-encrusted masquerade mask, covering her face, but not really disguising who she is. It’s weird as fuck.
There’s no fucking way I’m leaving now. I knew that Talon was into shady shit, and I also knew that they had some private meetings. But masks? This is a little bit culty.
Stacia and Christos enter the elevator, standing close as the door shuts. I exit my vehicle and stroll toward the entrance, peering at the empty stairwell. I need to make sure no one comes in while I head up. I should mind my own business. I am paid to mind my own business. But there’s something about all of this that I want to unravel. Maybe if I do, I can help Stacia out. There has to be more to this whole situation. I don’t think a drug lord would frame the daughter of a wealthy businessman without reason. And knowing that someone hired a hitman? There is a whole shit ton more to this, but I need to figure out. Stacia is my top priority, and I don’t think those protective—or more like obsessed—men around her have her best interest at heart.
There’s no point in disguising myself, so I enter the elevator and head up to an unmarked level. A man waits on the other side, and I grab him and yank him in, forcing him to his knees as I lock him in a chokehold. He’s obviously not a security guard. I don’t know who he is, but I take his mask and black robe, shrugging it on.
This is definitely a cult. There’s no other explanation.
The elevator returns to the parking garage, and I pop my trunk and put the man in. It’s not my vehicle anyways, belonging to Talon. He can deal with the shit later. I just need to know more so I can approach him about all of this. It’s fucking nuts.
I make my way back upstairs, and I enter a dimly lit room with only candlelight. Voices hum through the air, and I stand beside a man in a mask and robe, acting as if I belong.
A gong sounds to the air, vibrating over my skin. The group chants something, unfamiliar, their haunting voices creeping me the fuck out. I peer around the room, drinking in each figure, trying to find Stacia, but it’s hard with so many people. A part of me knows I should bail out of here. I should pretend that I never saw any of this, because this seems like the kind of cult that will kill you. Yet I’m not in the mood to make wise decisions. I want to know what I’m dealing with. What Stacia’s dealing with.
“I call order to the Looking Glass chapter. Tonight, we must skip our rituals and jump right into business. It has come to my attention that things are not going as planned. We need to act fast to prevent a scandal involving Princess. Because she is connected to me, I cannot do as some of you suggest and let it play out as part of God’s will. We need to clean up this mess immediately.” A man with a crown and a mask with horns steps forward from what looks like a sacrificial altar, but there is nobody waiting to play sacrifice. Yet.
“Your Majesty, might I suggest we do the same as whoever is trying to set us up and frame someone again? It worked quite well with that drugging situation.” This comes from somewhere among the crowd, the voice too soft to pinpoint.
“I agree. Which is why I brought you all together for approval. I know some of you believe that Princess is getting special treatment because she is my daughter, and I want to prove that it is not the case. We would stand beside any of you in this situation, which is part of our foundation as the Society of Secrets. The Princess is in need, and we must all do our parts, but it will not go without challenges. So tonight, I want to put forth a task. If Princess does not complete the task, then we will move forward with letting her take the blame so we can move on. Is that acceptable?” His Majesty says, motioning to the crowd. “Everyone who agrees, say ay.”
“Ay,” dozens of voices respond, filling the room.
His Majesty raises a cane. “Those who disagree and want to try another approach, say nay.”
“Nay,” only a handful of voices say, some of them familiar, belonging to Christos, Esteban, Talon, and Bianca along with some unrecognizable but confident women.
His Majesty smacks his cane down. “Majority rules. Princess, you must complete this task within the week to ensure your freedom. We can no longer put the Looking Glass chapter in jeopardy.”
“You want me to frame another person? Who? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” Stacia’s familiar voice rings out as she steps toward the center of the haphazard circle. “There has to be something else we can do.”
A figure rushes from the crowd and grabs onto Stacia, smacking her across the face, sending her masquerade mask flying. I force my feet to stay in place, my body wanting nothing more than to grab the fucker and break his neck.
“Do not question His Majesty’s authority!” A man yells, grabbing Stacia by her hair. I realize it’s one of the men from the parking garage.
Another man comes from the crowd and grabs him, yanking him back. “Touch her again, and you’ll lose your hand.”
It’s Christos.
The man sneers. “You son of a—”
“Order! There will not be violence in my court. Princess, your task is settled. If you choose to call an SOS on any of our members, remember, you must return the favor. Do you understand?” His Majesty asks, bringing his cane down again.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Stacia says, cowering on the floor. “I won’t let you down.”
“Meeting adjourned. Will the King’s Court please head to my chambers? Everyone else is dismissed.” And like that, His Majesty vanishes into another room, and someone blows out the candles.
The crowd disperses, and I stay among the group, moving along and choosing to take the stairs, along with a dozen others. I can’t see Stacia in the crowd, so I do my best to keep my gaze trained down, not making conversation, though somebody murmurs about the annoyance of this interruption.