Page 16

T he dim lighting casts a glow over the polished oak booth, only marred by condensation rings from discarded tumblers. Across from me, Arius lounges with forced nonchalance, broad shoulders hunched while his gaze rivets to the phone cradled in his palm. Swiping through screens, jaw occasionally twitching.

My gaze drifts over, searching for cracks in that stoic facade. Since the disastrous branding a week ago, he’s been prowling with a thunderous aura, snapping at any provocation. Like a rabid beast awaiting a chance to lash out.

Scuffing footfalls herald Hayes and Briar’s return before I glance up. They sidle up beside our booth, Hayes sliding in beside me easily while Briar hovers with uncertainty. Azure eyes cut from the open seat by Arius to the comparative escape Hayes and I offer.

A subtle eye roll towards the ceiling is the only tell of indifference, looking about as forced as it probably feels. With a huff, Briar slips onto the bench, distancing herself respectably from Arius’ side. If he even registers her at first, he gives no indication. Just continues scrolling that bloody phone, every so often pausing to tap out a punctual message, oblivious to everything unfolding.

That is, until Briar grows too comfortable with the perceived lack of scrutiny, arching her spine to increase the distance between them. An infinitesimal shift I likely wouldn’t have noticed if not already studying Arius so intently.

Without preamble, one thick forearm whips out, snaking around Briar’s trim waist, hand clamping her opposite hip with punishing force. A strangled gasp punches from plump lips as Arius hauls her bodily against his side in one tug, pinning their forms together from shoulder to knee.

The arm flexes, hauling Briar that final inch until her pert ass wedges snugly against his quad, bicep bracketing her upper body. Locking her in place with casual, undeniable strength.

“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me.” The indignant sigh slices the silence before Briar wriggles futilely against Arius’ side.

His response is a gravelly exhale, one corner of that sinful mouth quirking into a dark smirk. Pivoting, he angles that glower down at her, shoulders shifting in an imperceptible shrug.

“Keep trying to distance us and I’ll yank these skimpy rags off and drag you onto my lap, directly on my cock. Here. In this booth.” A pause lets implications sink in. “Unless you fancy this shitehole dive becoming an amateur porn set, sit still for once.”

Briar’s reaction is instantaneous—a livid mask, hands balling into fists. For a heartbeat, I expect a tantrum or another pissing contest while we wince in dread.

Then, as her jaw cants forward to unleash a tirade, Hayes clears his throat meaningfully. All eyes lock on his imperious expression regarding Briar evenly.

“I know it’s difficult for your ornery nature,” he rumbles, “but if you’d learn obedience and stop fighting the inevitable, life would be infinitely easier.” One brow quirks as lips curl into a lazy, mildly reproachful smirk. “Maybe if you stopped pitching fits, Arius might be inspired not to bend you over his knee and redden that peachy little arse.”

Hayes punctuates the threat with an exaggerated wink at me. My reflexive snort of laughter defuses simmering tensions rather than stoking them for once. Briar regards Hayes with a disdainful sneer, nose crinkling in disgust at his playful admonishment. A smirk tugs at my mouth’s corner as I reach for my smoky scotch tumbler to mask amusement.

Arius finally tears his focus from the black mirror, cold eyes sweeping our group calculatingly. “Hansley wants us all for the next briefing,” he rumbles, voice cutting the weighted silence like a blade.

The statement hangs heavy as my fingers still the glass before it can touch my lips. A frown furrows my brow as I level Arius a pointed look. “All of us? Or the usual attendees?”

Hayes echoes my unspoken question. “Does that invitation extend to our newest… addition?” One arched brow indicates Briar pinned against Arius’ unyielding frame.

Rather than respond verbally, Arius simply nods terse confirmation. His free hand lifts from the booth back, calloused fingers ghosting a featherlight trail across Briar’s bare shoulder—an almost unconscious caress. Toned muscle twitches beneath dusky flesh at the contact, Briar’s chin angling fractionally away without overtly shrugging him off.

“The Ascension Regent likely intends to conduct the next trial,” Arius continues lowly. “Might as well square away loose ends before she springs the ordeal on us.”

A fleeting look passes between Hayes and I, comprised of minute expressions rather than words. The same unspoken question hangs—do we voice the concern and risk igniting Arius’ rage, or allow discretion for now?

In the end, I can’t resist blunt candour—never been good at mincing words. “You planning to oversee the trial yourself? Or will Hansley bring in a pet Sentinel to put our neophyte through the wringer?”

The muscle feathering along Arius’ jaw is the only outward sign of mounting ire, that vein at his temple ticking. “Does it bloody matter whose hand holds the leash—?”

“Hold on, what ‘trials’ are you on about?”

Briar’s outburst cleaves through rising tension, eyes flickering between faces searching for answers. I meet that stormy gaze, ruminating how to explain without provoking an uglier scenario. How to soften the blow of being expected to undergo rituals most would consider mediaeval at best, sadistic at worst?

“They’re… old ceremonies,” I hedge as Arius tenses beside her. “Archaic traditions the Order hasn’t enforced in centuries, meant to test prospective members’ dedication and loyalty. Basic bollocks like torture endurance, obedience under extreme duress.”

Arius’ gravelly “, don’t…” slices across my explanation—the rebuke and threat laid bare. I ignore him, holding Briar’s wide-eyed stare as words land with full weight.

“Also, yes it bloody matters, because she should know and understand what’s expected of her. Most of the obedience trials revolve around an… intimate situation meant to establish dominance and expose any attachments to outdated consent or boundaries.” My jaw clenches involuntarily as my gaze darts between them. “Essentially, the recruit gets used as a cock-sleeve by their sponsor as submission tests before induction.”

Every syllable feels like acid etching my tongue, bile burning my throat as reality settles like a lead weight. No matter how many times I’ve turned a blind eye, envisioning Briar as the next victim of such systematic debasement strikes an unexpectedly discordant chord. Watching her over the last week, the way she’s seemed to seamlessly integrate herself into our routines. She’s adaptable, and something about that prompts an uncharacteristic protectiveness to well up in my chest.

Which is why I hold Arius’ molten glower defiantly, ignoring the blazing fury building behind pewter depths. “Way I see it, even with your dominance games and ‘breaking’ tactics, she’ll fail spectacularly if you keep treating the Initiation like some grand riddle.”

Briar seems poised to speak—perhaps voice more questions or an impassioned rebuke, I’ll never know. Before parted lips can release a whisper, Arius explodes into action like a striking viper.

One palm slams the tabletop with a bang, rattling tumblers and plates. Arius’ arm coils around Briar’s slender frame, crushing her against his bulk while wrenching her half off the seat with brute strength.

“ Enough! ” The snarled edict carries ferocious wrath to rattle bones, that glower searing into me like thermic lances. “You’ve mouthed off quite enough about shite you—”

The tirade strangles in his throat as Briar’s palm connects with his cheek in a resounding crack, whipping his jaw aside and leaving a livid crimson imprint rising on his flesh. Every muscle tenses, anticipating the inevitable rage explosion. Yet Arius remains frozen in shock, harsh breaths rasping between clenched teeth.

Briar trembles with unbridled indignation, hand still raised from its swing. “How’s that for obedience, you colossal prick?” she shrieks, visage twisting into visceral loathing. “I’m so bloody tired of you entitled cunts dangling me like a puppet, only filling me on whatever the fuck is going on when it’s too late to— shite! Get off! ”

Without warning, Arius surges to feral, primal life in a blur of movement too fluid to track.