Before I could fasten my seatbelt, the car took off. “Where are we going?” I asked. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. It quivered and sounded weak and helpless. I swallowed hard and tried to chase that cowardly woman away. I wasn’t her. I was a fighter. A powerful woman. A motherfucking queen. I had battle scars to prove it. “Did The Iron Colt Brotherhood send you?” I asked, willing myself to sound much stronger this time.
The man didn’t answer, but I saw his eyes look back at me in the rearview mirror. He diverted eye contact quickly, and it was then that panic set in. No one wanted to connect with a dead man walking. No, Roman would never allow them to hurt me. But what if he didn’t have the control I thought he did? What if they were far more powerful than Prince Roman? It was possible… and I could be walking toward my own death.
Make wise choices, my mother used to say.
I clearly didn’t listen.
I should have said no when Roman told me about the initiation. I should have been fine not knowing what was ever really going on. Why did I agree to this? Why? Staring out the window at the passing scenery, I wondered what would have been better.
Bile formed in the back of my throat as I watched us drive into the abyss, further and further into the bayou—out in the middle of nowhere. Someplace that no one would be able to hear the bullet shot through my head, or my cries for mercy as they tortured me first if I didn’t do exactly what they said as Roman had instructed me to do. We were driving so far out of the city that my body would never be found. My fate would be sealed.
Would Roman even be able to find me for a proper burial?
The car turned down a narrow dirt road, and my heart stopped. This was it. This emotionless man driving, who didn’t say a single word, planned to escort me to... to what? God, what was about to happen?
It didn’t take long for me to see something unexpected. A large manor loomed in the distance. Dark, gray, ominous, and it appeared as if the devil himself resided within the walls. It was so large that I wondered if it maybe was once a boarding school, or owned by some wealthy oil tycoon who had more money than even The Iron Colt Brotherhood. Though I was certain the mansion had once been a testament to the opulence of yesteryear, the structure now looked nearly abandoned cast against the setting sun. If it weren’t for the cars parked in the massive circular driveway, I would have thought the house completely deserted and haunted by all the spirits of murdered souls.
I was about to join those forgotten souls myself if I didn’t obey every command and follow every rule. Roman had warned me. Yes, he had warned me, but I had no idea how daunting all of that was until I sat here about to face it head on.
It was as if the manor was lost in time—once magnificent, but now eerily haunting. Large windows with a faint light emerging through the stained glass of the second floor gave the cold structure some signs of warmth and life. But then the sharp-pitched roof with the crumbling brick chimneys reminded me of the deathlike aura. Would my body be tortured and killed inside those walls? Was I staring at my own coffin?
When the car pulled up to the front entrance, I saw a man waiting outside wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He was at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, his huge figure looming in front of the manor. His hair was black, his eyes dark, and from the firmness of his expression, I was pretty sure that his inner being was even darker than his outer appearance.
The driver got out of the car, opened my door, and yanked me out of the vehicle. With a strong grip of my upper arm, my chauffeur half-dragged me to the waiting man since my feet could barely keep up with his speed and purpose. As we approached the steps, both men silently climbed their way to the front door and pulled me inside. Once we reached the foyer, I was shoved to the floor.
“Kneel,” the man who had been waiting for me said.
Too panicked to do anything else, I scrambled to my knees and did as he said while I quickly tried to scan my surroundings. A glorious staircase mastered the entire space with its intricately carved banister spiraling alongside the wooden steps. Original pocket doors concealed rooms on each side of me, and the scarred wooden floor beneath my knees countered the lavishness of the chandelier dangling over me.
“Cherise,” the man began as he stood in front of me with his arms remaining crossed at his chest. It was as if he was going to lecture me like a naughty schoolgirl rather than begin the initiation.
I didn’t respond, but looked up into his eyes instead. I swallowed hard and struggled to breathe. For a moment, I wondered if I would die of a heart attack before the man could do anything to me.
“I’m not one to fuck around. So, let’s just get to the point. You know why you are here, yes?”
I nodded and looked down at the floor. My nerves could no longer handle the severity that I saw in his eyes and on his face. I foolishly thought I could be brave and face this initiation head on, but the tears that fell and the need to beg to be let go and pretend none of this had ever happened almost erupted from the place I thought I had securely locked my fear away.
“The Iron Colt Brotherhood are not men to cross. Betrayal equals death. And in most cases, the most torturous, agonizing death you could imagine. They want to make their enemies pay with far more than just their lives.” He took one step toward me, and I flinched as if he had just punched me in the face. “But you know that. You know what could happen to you right now if you don’t listen and comply with every detail of this initiation.”
My mind ran rampant with all the ways this man and the brotherhood would make me pay if I did a single thing wrong. Every single horror movie I ever watched played back in my head. My ragged breath came out in gasps as my vision dimmed. My ears rang, and my body quivered.
The man reached for my chin and tilted my head back so I had to look up into his eyes. “I am one of the members of The Iron Colt Brotherhood.” He paused for a moment to give me time to absorb his words. “Your initiation has begun. There is no backing out no matter how much you plead for mercy.”
“Mercy?” There was a note of hysteria in my voice as I asked, “Are you going to kill me?”
“Death would be easy compared to what we plan to do to you.”
“Torture me?”
“In the most wicked of ways. Yes.”
I flinched when I heard the cries of a woman from another room in the manor. Staring up into this monster’s eyes, I asked, “Am I not the only one being initiated? How many are there?”
“The only person you should worry about, Cheri, is you. You will need all the strength and focus you can drum up in that shaking body of yours.”
The sob I had been struggling to hold back released. It was even louder as it was amplified by the barren walls of the entryway. My shoulders shook with the effort to hold back an even more desperate wail. I feared I’d no longer be able to wear the crown of the brave queen. I could already feel it breaking, chipping, being destroyed by my fear. I was so very scared, and all I could do was watch my tears fall to the floor before my knees.
“Don’t cry, sweet princess. Not yet.” The man bent down and caressed the back of my head, once again lifting my face so I was forced to look into his unforgettable eyes. He then took a handful of hair and yanked my head back hard. “Not until one of the brothers gives you something to cry about. And we will.” Tugging on my hair harder, he inched back and looked me square on, so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my lips. I could smell his manly scent of spice and control… if control had a scent. He was so close. I could almost feel him. I knew his touch wouldn’t be soft or gentle. There was nothing but raw power exuding from this man. “We most certainly will.”