Page 23 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

NOAH

T he world hasn’t stopped, but I have. Everything around me moves on like nothing happened.

We’re sitting in the canteen.

“Something’s up with you.” Melody places her knight right in front of my queen. A bold move. “Talk to me, big brother.”

“Nothing’s up with me.” I switch my king and my tower, but my heart’s not in it.

The weight of Louis’s absence has been pressing against my ribs all morning.

He’s in my head. Every word, every look, every filthy moan—I replay them like they’re answers to a question I shouldn’t be asking.

Like I’m decoding a language I was never meant to learn.

My chest tightens every time I do, like I’ve swallowed a stone that won’t pass.

I feel guilty for wanting him. But wanting him isn’t the worst part, needing him is.

I make a desperate move on the board, something even a novice would question. Melo raises an eyebrow. She’s a damn queen in chess.

“Hmm…I can feel it.”

“Feel it, huh?”

“Yup.” She clicks her tongue at my move, retreating one of her own pieces. “You’re…I don’t know. Distracted?”

“Distracted,” I huff, shaking my head in amusement, hoping that she’ll buy my nonexistent poker face. She doesn’t.

“Does it have to do with Louis?” Her gaze narrows as she takes me in. “You’ve been different ever since that day he showed up at our house, used the shower, then vanished into that ridiculous car of his, remember?”

“Of course not.” My face heats, the memory of Louis’s mouth on my skin flashing hot behind my eyes.

“Does it bother you that we text each other?”

Oh... I shake my head. I didn’t know that.

How come I didn’t know that? It’s been days since I fucked him against my desk.

Shame and regret have been my constant companions since.

Because I should have checked to see if he was alright after he’d left my office, right?

He’s still sending messages. Hourly. Sometimes more.

I respond with one-word replies and pretend it doesn’t matter. It does. But then, you never know.

I force a smile. “Of course, that doesn’t bother me.” But it’s…I don’t like it, I think, though I shouldn’t care. I let out a forced chuckle. My sister has been fangirling over the students attending this college ever since I walked back into her life, and now she has finally met one.

“He’s been asking about you, you know.”

Oh. “Let’s just focus on the game, shall we? I promise nothing’s up. I’m good, and I’m not bothered by your friendship.”

“He was asking if you were dating someone.” No. I’m only sleeping with him.

I huff. “That’s inappropriate to ask, and he knows it.”

“Perhaps, but you should see your face.” Melo’s lips twitch, but there’s a glint in her eye that’s more curious than playful.

“Melo…”

“I’m just kidding.” She leans back, chin propped on her hand, studying me like one of her paintings. “He didn’t ask about your dating life. But like I said, something’s definitely up with you. You look guilty as charged.”

Perhaps I am. Because now I want to know what the hell they discuss if it isn’t my dating life. Does he flirt with her, too? Does he touch her with words the way he does me?

Stop it.

“Well, he might be fun to you, but to me, he is a student. Like I have over fifty others. Students.”

“Really. Well, perhaps you should remind him of that. He’s been refurbishing our home.”

“What?” The knight clatters onto the board, making other pawns tumble. I scramble to put them back in their respective places. “I told him to stop interfering with my life. He did the same thing to my office and to my bedroom, and…and…”

Melo grins, her emerald eyes glimmering with mischief. She lifts a brow, savouring the moment like a well-plated dessert. “Gotcha.”

“Wait, what? Were you selling me bullshit? Again?”

“Yup.” She laughs, tossing her hair off her shoulder with dramatic flair. “And you fell for it. Again.” She moves her knight with exaggerated elegance. “Checkmate, brother.”

“You distracted me.”

“And you’re a bad loser. But since I’m such a sport, I will leave the subject for now. If you come and see my next exhibition. No excuses. It’s only a small one, but I’d like you to be there. Pretty please?”

“You don’t need to force me into that. I’d love to.”

“Yay!” She puts on her coat and wraps a colourful scarf around her neck, before taking me into a bear hug.

My sister is petite, with a delicate face and soft features, but her hug is fierce.

She leaves a big kiss on my cheek. “Take care of yourself, brother. I’m here for you, you know that. Whatever. Whenever. Always here.”

“Thank you, sis.” I press a kiss to her forehead. How I have missed her all these years.

After waving her off, I head back to my office and settle in for a few hours of work.

I finalized the paper I started working on over Christmas.

It started as a quiet attempt to make sense of power.

It's my own way of peeling back the layers of privilege these men wrap themselves in. Not an academic paper, not really. More like a manifesto stitched in footnotes. The deeper I dig, the more it feels like I’m brushing against something raw and real.

Like I’m sketching the bones of a monster no one else wants to name.

The Alpha Fraternarii is as scary as it is fascinating.

I can still hear the breathless moans echoing off stone walls, still see the silver mask that turned my way mid-orgy, a stranger's gaze laced with recognition. That image clings to me, unsettling and erotic, proof of how close I came to losing myself that night. Louis didn’t exaggerate when he said they were secret.

There are no sources of the existence of a brotherhood in Monterrey Castle.

No history, no name mentioning, no nothing.

The only thing that’s real was that gathering.

And their lingering traces, here, in Monterrey Castle.

Framed photos and history. Paintings with crows.

My own memory of how they looked altogether, cloaked and masked.

The sociologist in me is fascinated. The broken man in me is furious.

How dare the leaders of tomorrow be men who close business deals while indulging in the most primal pleasures in life?

And then there is Louis. Handsome, dangerous Louis, who steals the heart of my sister and is working very hard to break through my carefully crafted defences.

He’s a walking red flag. He’s obnoxious, possessive, and feral.

He’s everything I once dreamt of becoming myself.

Once upon a time, when I was young, na?ve, and confused.

Well, the streets beat the confusion out of you, I can say that.

Drowning in my work has always been the solution to everything.

And with time, that got easier. Working means no space for other thoughts.

But the shade of obscurity has tainted my iron concentration, and as much as I hate to admit it, having Louis in my bed quieted the noise for once—but not the ache he leaves behind.

I look at my paperwork, at the analysis I defined based on what I saw during their gathering.

The way their members, or brothers as they call each other, interacted in social contact.

They seem to be managed by a strong hierarchy, and I wonder if the colour of the masks has anything to do with that.

Some were gold, others silver. A few were white.

It’s much later now. The kind of later that sinks into your bones and makes the room feel smaller.

At some point after Melody left, the daylight vanished without me noticing.

The soft noise of the world beyond my office has faded, replaced by the kind of stillness that only comes after nightfall.

Papers are scattered across my desk, my screen dimmed to black.

A knock on my door jolts me out of the haze.

How long have I been here for? Did I fall asleep? I don’t believe I did.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

The sound is followed by a slow, persistent brushing against the door that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to rise.

Did I lock my door? It’s the first thought that comes to mind. I check my phone for messages from Louis or anyone else. His last message, ‘Got a party tonight. Can’t wait to see you after’, was sent an hour ago.

My muscles tense as my stomach coils. Fury stirs, a low-burning fire that’s catching steadily. The sound disappears, but I’m already on my feet.

The only one who can scare me is me.

Yanking open the door, I glare at the emptiness of the corridor. The lights have been left on this time, a detail that shouldn't rattle me, but it does. The air is too still, the silence too poised. Further down, a cleaner is sweeping the corridor. It's him.

That same mute from reception. Always sweeping, always watching, like he’s part of the walls. What’s his name again? Zaid, Zach—something with a Z.

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t flinch. Just keeps sweeping as though he hadn’t just knocked on my door. As though I hadn’t felt his presence through the wood, steady and deliberate.

“Excuse me, did you see anyone just pass?”

He looks up slowly, his eyes blank, unreadable. Then he shakes his head once. Too quick. Too practiced. Like a gesture he’s rehearsed before.

A thread of unease snakes beneath my ribs.

My heart ruffles in my chest as I head for the horror corridor. The light flickers here as usual, but this time my clenching hands are not from fear. I don’t think they are, at least. I’m annoyed. Because someone’s playing a game with me, and I’m not interested.

This time, the large painting of the forest with those crows has been shifted aside, giving access to the stairs.

A light has been left on, casting a faint glow on the stairs.

I stand undecided. But then…ever since Louis danced into my life, my career has been hanging by a silver thread.

And perhaps I secretly have a wild side as well.