Page 32

THE SHADOW

T he stone steps spiraled downward into darkness, the air growing colder and damper with every step I took. Ava lay motionless in my arms, her head resting against my shoulder.

I tightened my grip on her as the faint flicker of torchlight greeted me at the bottom of the staircase, casting long, twisting shadows on the stone walls.

The passage opened into a cavernous circular room. Fire torches lined the walls, their flames guttering in the draft, illuminating the space in an eerie glow.

The dean stood at the edge of the room, cloaked in a dark-brown robe, the fabric catching the firelight like oil on water. A gold rope belt twisted around his waist and knotted in a Celtic knot before falling into ropes along his thigh, ending in two golden snake heads.

His smug expression twisted my stomach, but what unnerved me more was the four hooded guards flanking him, their faces hidden in shadows .

Three of the guards casually clutched rifles, their fingers resting a little too comfortably near the trigger.

The fourth, the smaller build of the four, stood empty-handed, his posture relaxed but watchful.

They wore the same kind of robes, except their belts were bronze instead of gold. The gold must mean the High Lord. Or maybe the inner circle.

I eyed the guards. They were all too slim to be the police commissioner.

One of them could be Cormac Senior. But… I couldn’t imagine that silver-spooned elitist dirtying his hands with guns and blood.

I clocked them all, silently cursing the knives concealed on me—Arya, Dundee, and Jack. Useful in close combat, maybe, but they were nothing against the firepower in this room.

Guns were illegal in Ireland, the rare exceptions being antique shotguns used by the wealthy for archaic pheasant hunts, ancient rifles clung to by stubborn old farmers, and the occasional smuggled pistol.

Yet the weapons these guards carried gleamed with precision, unscarred by age or misuse. It spoke volumes about the Sochai’s reach—powerful connections and friends utterly devoid of scruples.

“Bravo, son.” The dean’s voice was oily, dripping with false warmth. “Welcome.”

I forced myself to smirk, masking the unease threatening to choke me. “Not much of a warm welcome. I thought the other members would be here to greet the son of one of their own.”

The dean chuckled, the sound echoing off the walls. “ Patience, Mr. Donahue. Besides, you’ve not passed your initiation yet.”

I froze, my muscles tensing instinctively. My grip on Ava tightened ever so slightly, grounding myself—and maybe her too. “I thought deciphering your damn riddle was the initiation.”

“No, my dear boy.” The dean’s eyes gleamed with something predatory, and his gaze flicked to Ava. “The pretty little gift you’re carrying is your initiation.”

The guards stepped forward, their movement subtle but deliberate, as if ready to wrest her from my arms.

My heart thundered, and for a split second, I thought I felt Ava’s breath hitch against my neck. I squeezed her closer, a silent promise, Not a chance in hell.

“‘ What the father possesses, his heirs shall claim ,’” I quoted from the Sochai manifesto as written in my father’s journals. I met the dean’s gaze, letting steel edge my voice. “I am my father’s heir and I claim her as my daughter. No one touches her but me.”

The dean’s smile faltered. His jaw tightened briefly, irritation flashing across his face before he smothered it with feigned amusement.

“What a clever little heir our dearly departed Gardener raised,” he said, his voice a mix of mockery and spite. “We don’t need to touch her for you to initiate… but you do.”

He clapped his hands, the sound sharp and deliberate.

The unarmed guard stepped forward, grabbing a crimson cloth that covered something at the center of the room. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled it away, revealing a stone altar beneath before he stepped back.

The dean gestured toward the altar, his hand lingering on a camera mounted on a tripod nearby. How had I not seen it before?

The lens was fixed squarely on the altar, a sickening testament to whatever twisted ritual they had planned.

A dark apprehension poisoned my blood and I clutched Ava even closer. Every cell in my body screamed at me to run .

“There’s no need to be shy,” the dean drawled, adjusting the camera with deliberate precision. “No one will see the recording outside of the Sochai, unless…” His smile sharpened, wolfish. “…you need reminding of your loyalties.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, though dread had already begun to creep into my veins.

“It’s simple,” he said. “You lay her down on the altar and fuck her.”

The implications short-circuited my brain and I almost broke character.

“That’s rape,” I blurted out.

The dean smiled. “ Exactly .”

Bile rose in the back of my throat. Was this their initiation? Did every entry into their twisted society happen through this sick act? To rape a drugged girl in front of their camera, the evidence tucked away to keep everyone in line?

If the dean really thought I was going to fuck Ava as he watched, he could add senile to the list of sadistic and perverted.

The only way I would expose even another inch of Ava’s thigh would be if I gouged out the eyes of every man here first.

The dean settled onto a low cushioned bench that curved around the room, his critical gaze slicing through me. He tilted his head just slightly, the smallest movement, but it carried the weight of a predator sizing up its prey.

I was unraveling. I knew I was risking the mission, but I couldn’t—God, I fucking couldn’t.

My chest felt like it might collapse under the pressure. My skin burned, my heart pounded like a drum in my ears, and my legs betrayed me, frozen in place. Gray flecks swarmed at the edges of my vision.

The dean shifted his legs, uncrossing and recrossing them with practiced ease. He brushed some invisible speck from his knee, his posture casual, but his voice was razor-sharp. “If this is a problem—”

“It’s not.” The words ripped out of me before I could stop them, harsh and unsteady. I dragged in a breath, forcing air into my lungs, commanding my body to comply.

I hated him.

He didn’t just destroy good things—he savored its destruction.

And I knew, as clearly as I knew my own heartbeat, that he wouldn’t stop.

Not until someone stopped him.

Not until we stopped him.

And if I had to pretend to rape Ava for their cameras, for their sick perverted eyes, I had to do it.

With a hint of entitlement in my voice to cover up my faux pas, I said, “I’ve just never had to perform in front of a camera and a room of wrinkly old men before.”

The dean narrowed his eyes. “Trust me, son. If you can’t stomach this, then you certainly don’t belong with us.”

With an equal measure of pain and acceptance in my heart, I stepped toward the altar and lay Ava down on it, her lower legs dangling off the end.

I laid my sweaty palms flat on either side of Ava’s thighs and its cold shocked me because all I felt was churning heat inside.

I studied Ava’s body for any sign, a flinch, a whimper, a wince—that she didn’t want me to go through with it.

But there was nothing.

My darling Ava was stronger than I was. Braver than I was. Able to endure more than I ever could.

If I loved her, I had to honor her sacrifice. Her choice.

Okay then. I would do it. I would defile Ava before these monsters, but it would kill me. It would fucking end my soul.

As I slid my hand onto Ava’s thigh, the beep of the camera beginning its recording drilled a hole through my ear straight into my brain.

I almost faltered.

This act with Ava was a precious thing.

Not to be soiled in their memories, recorded as blackmail.

I pulled my hand away and dragged it through my hair to hide how terribly it was shaking.

I could do this. I could pretend to do this.

I reached for her skirt and pushed it up her thighs, just enough but not enough so they could see her panties and the spot meant just for me.

I stepped up close and unzipped my pants. Fuck, how was I supposed to get hard with them watching.

“Strip her,” the dean said.

I spun, my open fly forgotten. “What? ”

The dean tilted his head, an evil smirk on his face. “Take her clothes off. All of them. We need to see what you’re doing to her.”

A dozen different scenarios of attacking the High Lord ran through my mind, but each ended with my body riddled with bullet holes and Ava left helpless against five armed psychopaths.

For a moment, I hated, truly hated my brother for putting the woman he claimed to love in this position.

And for a moment, I hated Ava too, for not running when we could have.

“Unless,” the dean added, “you aren’t serious about becoming one of us.”

My hands fisted into painful knots by my sides, and I had to force my fingers apart. I forced a shrug even as hatred swirled in my blood.

“If that’s what it’ll take,” I said.

It felt like there was a hand around my neck. My own.

The dean smiled, then replied, “It is…”

I turned back to Ava, unmoving, but she would have heard everything. I scanned her soft features for any hint for me to stop, for any trace of fear or resistance.

She didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Her breathing remained steady, a silent consent to keep going.

I sent her a wordless apology as I began to lift the hem of Ava’s top.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed the dean’s crossed legs tightening. The sick fuck. I was going to enjoy killing him the most.

I pulled the top over Ava’s head and gently laid her back down. Her head rolled to the side like she was asleep, so beautiful, so innocent.

The dean made a sound at the reveal of Ava’s naked chest. “Beautiful.”

I had to close my eyes for several long seconds as blood rushed in my ears. I saw nothing but red, even behind my eyelids.

When this was over, I was going to carve his eyeballs out of his sockets and make him eat them. I was going to rip his testicles from his wrinkly old ball sack and shove them where his eyeballs had been.

I forced myself to keep going, bolstered by my violent promises when this was all over. If… we got through this.

I slid off her shoes and dropped them to the ground. They echoed through the cavernous space.

I wanted to kiss her toes, to whisper to her that I was sorry. But I refrained.

I unzipped her skirt and pulled that off her hips and down her legs, bowing my head to her as if in prayer.

I tried to focus on the loveliness of Ava’s smooth skin, the flames casting a flickering warm glow over her curves. I tried to pretend that it was just her and me. And that we were playing some sort of dark game.

But I could feel their eyes burning into me.

My fingers curled into the edges of her panties, the only clothing left, and I paused.

Fuck. Could I really do it? Could I expose her to them?

“Don’t stop now,” the dean said with a husky chuckle. “It’s just getting good.”

My fingers trembled as they curled around the delicate lace of Ava’s panties. The soft fabric felt like sandpaper against my skin, every nerve ending raw and exposed.

I closed my eyes, drawing a deep breath that tasted of damp stone and smoke from the flickering torches.

With agonizing slowness, I began to slide the underwear down Ava’s legs. The lace caught on the curve of her ass, and I had to force myself not to be gentle, not to caress her skin as I normally would.

Instead, I tugged roughly, feeling the fabric give way.

As I pulled the panties past her knees, I risked a glance at Ava’s face.

Her eyes remained closed, her expression peaceful, betraying nothing of the violation happening to her unconscious form. A strand of her dark hair had fallen across her cheek, and it took every ounce of willpower not to brush it away.

Once I tugged them off her toes, I pocketed her panties, because I would fucking die rather than any of these assholes getting their dirty little hands on them.

My stomach churned as I heard a soft intake of breath from one of the guards.

Ava lay completely exposed now, vulnerable and beautiful on the cold stone altar. I pulled her hips to the edge and positioned myself between her legs, shielding as much of her body from view as I could with my own.

It made me sick that I was already hard. Throbbing almost painfully. Leaking against the front of my black pants. I wanted to have to struggle to be aroused by this fucked-up charade.

But my body betrayed me. My cock knew only lust and desire when it came to Ava. It only saw her naked and laid out for me.

I wet two fingers with my mouth before I reached down between Ava’s legs. I didn’t care if meant arousing the High Lord’s suspicions. I wouldn’t force my way in.

“A gentleman,” the dean snickered from his place on the bench like it was an insult.

“A cunt isn’t worth fucking if it isn’t wet,” I shot back.

But her pussy lips were already slick as I ran my fingers along her folds.

A jolt of surprise shot through me, quickly followed by a small wave of relief. At least there was a part of my dark little rabbit that would enjoy being fucked.

As I readied her with two fingers, stretching her, I silently promised to make it good for her.

Or at least, as easy as possible to bear.

“Well?” the dean’s impatient voice cut through the silence. “We’re waiting, Mr. Donahue.”

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to maintain the facade. “Patience, Dean,” I spat his words back at him, infusing my voice with a bravado I didn’t feel.

My hands shook as I undid my belt, letting my pants fall open, hyper-aware of the eyes boring into my back.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I had to do. With one hand, I guided myself to Ava’s entrance, the head of my cock brushing against her folds. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the reality of our audience, focusing only on the softness of Ava’s skin beneath my fingers.

Slowly, I pushed into her, feeling her body yield to me.

A low groan escaped my lips as I buried myself deep within her, the sensation so overwhelming that for a second I forgot about the guns and the video camera and the High Lord’s soft panting.

There, inside of her, was home.

I began to move, establishing a steady rhythm. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the cavernous room, punctuated by my ragged breathing.

I kept my eyes fixed on Ava’s face, searching for any sign of discomfort or awareness, but she remained still and peaceful.

The dean said something, no doubt crude and ugly, but I ignored it, pushing his voice away into the distance.

It was just Ava and me.

Back in her bedroom at the loft. Candlelight soft on her naked skin. This was just a kinky game she wanted to play.

It took everything I had not to moan a praising, ‘Good girl,’ when Ava’s pussy tightened around my throbbing cock without warning.

But then fear coursed through the pleasure humming in my veins. Oh shit.

She was going to come.

God help us both if she couldn’t stay quiet.