Page 37

“Dallas is your heir, Uncle Jack. Not me. If I can’t Claim the bride I want, then I won’t marry anyone at all.”

“Adrian. You don’t mean that. If you’re not married by the time you’re thirty?—”

“I lose my future standing in the Order. Yeah. I know.” And I don’t care one bit. “So think about it, Uncle Jack.” I’ll ‘Uncle Jack’ him to death if I have to. “Do you want me in the upper ranks with Dallas? Do you want me to keep working on the Order’s books? Then you let me have this. I want Loni.”

A flash of fury darkens his eyes, but Jack pretends like he’s not currently fantasizing about throttling me. “She would have to accept your Claim. Will she?”

Good question. After the fallout from the graduation party, I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty that she will. I’ve never seen her so hurt, and I’ve done fucked-up things. I’ve pushed her away, kept her alone, did everything I could so that I would be the one she eventually relied on.

Did I go too far? I might’ve, but that’s nothing compared to how far I’ll go to get what I want.

Nothing is safe. No one is safe.

Except for Loni.

“Give me a piece of paper.”

“Think about what you’re doing, boy,” he says, even as he pulls open his desk, taking out a heavy piece of card stock that he uses for moments just like this.

“Don’t worry. I am.”

Then, before he can stop me, I dip my fingers into my front pocket. I usually keep my phone in the back right pocket, but the front one? That’s where my pocket knife lives.

With a quick flick, it’s open. And while I told Jack that I’m thinking about it, that’s a bald-faced lie because I’m not thinking at all as I slash down the center of my palm like a fucking idiot.

Recovery will be a bitch. Add that to how I’ll be formally inducted into the Order next month right before the annual Claiming ceremony, the heated iron branding the center of my right palm. If my left hand isn’t healed enough by then, I’ll have two wounded palms, but it’ll be worth it to be able to do this.

I press my bloody hand to the card stock until a streaky red print is left behind on the page. I fist my hand, trying my best to stem the blood flow as I trade my knife for one of the expensive fountain pens Jack keeps on his desk.

I scribble my name and date at the bottom, then shove both the pen and the page toward Jack. “Seal it,” I tell him. “By my blood, I Claim Avalon Dougherty.”

There. A blood oath. It’s rare, but not unheard of. One of the bylaws in the Order’s charter, a future Owed can Claim their Offering before the Claiming ceremony if they swear it in blood. That way, if someone else tries to Claim her instead, my promise in blood is enough to overrule their Claims.

In the eyes of the Order, I’m swearing to take this woman, honor this woman, and protect her with everything in me. If she’s in danger, I will save her. If I have to die for her, I will. If I have to kill for her, that’s on the table, and the blood oath will mean I was justified.

I’d do it without the blood oath, but now that I have it… I’m one step closer to making Loni Dougherty mine for good.

Let Jack think I’m only doing that to spare her from the fate of being one of the Used. Loni didn’t tell him that I was the one in the room that night. She saved me, and from this moment on, I’ll dedicate my life to doing the same for her.

Jack sneers at the bloody print, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing the Order’s notary seal and stamping it against his better judgment. “Remember, Adrian. She has to accept you. If not…”

I resent the implication that she won’t. So I made her life hell. I admit it, and I only hope I don’t end up regretting it. I did what I had to, and someday soon, she’ll understand that.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

TEN

THE FORTRESS

NOW

ADRIAN

Iknew this was coming.

I guess I should be grateful that Dallas managed to keep Jack off my ass for as long as he did. I’d hoped for a little more time before he summoned me to the Fortress, but at least it’s better than having to leave Loni at home on our wedding night in order to deal with my uncle’s bullshit.

Not that it was much of a wedding night. The moment I decided that she would be forced to marry me at (basically) gunpoint, I accepted that it would be a rockier start to our marriage that I planned for. It took me two years of slowly manipulating her behind the scenes before I switched up, flattering her in private, playing mind games with her until the first time I kissed her, letting her know that I considered her mine.