Page 51 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

LOUIS

E verything hurts.

I flinch before I remember I’m not in the dungeons anymore. No masked hands. No laughter. Just pain. Real, sharp, and mine.

My mind is a fog, only lifting when I shift and roll onto my side, the movement slicing through the haze. Pain crackles across my ribs as I collide with another body, sharp and real enough to anchor me in the now.

A pair of green eyes stare at me, black eyeliner smeared across his cheeks. “You’re awake!” he chirps, way too loud for someone whose face looks like a raccoon in a thunderstorm. It’s not his voice. Not Noah’s. My throat clamps shut.

Noah .

The projector. The memories slam back, blurred and jagged, like glass underwater.

“Who—get off,” I croak, heart spiking. It takes a second to realize it’s Gael. My breath comes ragged.

Gael tucks a strand behind my ear, beaming like a mischievous cat. “There you are again. You made a sound this time. Progress!”

“Fuck off.”

“Aww…you are back to being your sweet self. Don’t fall asleep. You slept for like, forever . Everyone’s been really worried. Hang on. Uncle!” Like a monkey, he slings himself out of my bed, then presses a kiss on my forehead. I shooed him away.

The door opens and in walks Dad, Arthur, and Régis hot on his tail.

“Son.” Dad smiles and sits down on the bed. His hand reaches out and strokes away more hair that sat plastered against my forehead. “How are you feeling?”

I blink, drinking him in. “I’m not sure. You brought me home.”

“Always, Louis.” His hand finds mine, and he squeezes gently.

He looks every bit the upper-class, charming man, handsome, elegant, and self-assured.

He’s the father who raised us alone when Mom died.

It’s not the first thing I’d recall waking from hell, but the memory grounds me now.

Even with everything broken, he’s still here.

“Louis. You’re awake, darling.” Natalie stands in the doorway.

Our stepmom, firm, radiant, and maddeningly kind.

She’s the best thing that could’ve happened to Dad, and to us.

Her son Régis too, though I still don’t know how the hell he managed to make my asshole twin this happy.

A little too happy, if you ask me. Arthur’s been soft lately.

I see it now in the crease of worry on his face as he stares down at me.

“How long was I asleep for?” I yawn.

“Two days.”

“We dragged your ass back from Monterrey after you were drugged in the dungeons,” Arthur says bluntly, not bothering to soften it. “Do you remember being down there?”

“Wait, let him wake up first. You must be hungry.”

I am. But… “Where’s Noah?” I spot Gael by the door, a satisfied smirk on his face. “And why the hell were you in my bed?”

“You were confused. Couldn’t sleep.”

“That…” I frown. “I don’t remember that. Where is he?”

“First, some food. Then we’ll talk. I’m glad you’re okay, mon fils.” Dad leans in and brushes his lips to my temple. He smells of pine and wood.

One of the helpers comes in with food, toast with butter and orange juice.

Sliding back on my pillow, I force a small smile. The ache is back. He’s not here, I know he isn’t. Then where the fuck is he?

Dad joins me at breakfast, or whatever this is. “Your…situation with Zachary was a surprise.” He butters his sandwich and takes a bite.

“I didn’t know he was a problem until it was too late.”

Dad just nods without asking me what he truly wants to know. What the fuck was I doing there in the dungeons? Why didn’t I come home for my birthday party? Why did I allow myself to get into trouble? But mostly, why did I not call for help sooner?

It’s his way of giving me space, I know that. He’ll patiently wait until I come to him. I always do, I’m an open book, my emotions clear as day.

“Has anyone seen my phone?”

“You’ll get it back when you can come down by yourself.”

“Is this your way of punishing me?”

“It isn’t, and you know it. You need to rest.” He taps against my forehead. “Here.”

He’s right, though I don’t like it. I glare outside, to where the sun is setting.

It’s a breathtaking view. One I used to love, growing up, when life was just a game and I was at the winning table.

Now it feels like the rug's been yanked from under me, and I’m still falling.

Everything I thought I could control is unraveling, fast, loud, like glass shattering in reverse.

I keep waiting for someone to say it’s all been a mistake, that he’s still here, that I haven’t been left behind again.

I don’t get what’s going on. My grip on reality is slipping.

It feels like the ground’s dropped out from under me, and I’m stuck watching it happen.

I want to believe he’s just in the next room, not gone, not erased like he never existed.

Just once, I want to stop being the one left clawing at shadows.

My eyes flutter, and the remaining toast slips from my fingers. Dad takes my plate away and puts the blankets up.

“Sleep now.”

The room dims around me. Must be late afternoon, maybe early evening.

“I’m not tired.”

He chuckles softly, then rests his hand lightly on my hair.

The pillow’s soft. It makes my mind slip.

I don’t remember the entire night in the dungeon, but I do remember how I felt.

Betrayed. Heartbroken. Like I’d reached for him—and he let me fall.

He looked me in the eye and didn’t follow.

That’s the last thing I saw of Noah. Maybe that’s why it hurts worse.

But also like something finally clicked, like we made sense, Noah and I.

Shards of memories torment my mind. They suck me into a deeper sleep, keep me in a slumber even when I try to awake.

There is no escape. There are only pieces of us, of them, of things that may have never even happened.

When I finally crack my eyes open, I’m hyperventilating.

It’s dark outside; the ocean is a silver flicker on the blackness of the horizon.

“Dad?” I can’t fucking move. It’s like my bones still remember the dungeon. I’m hot as hell, and my throat feels like it has been cut open. “Dad!” I cough.

The door swings open and in jogs Dad. “I’m here, mon fils.”

“Dad, I—” He kneels by my side and brushes his thumb over my cheek. I realize I’m crying.

“Shh, Louis.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m losing it.”

“Those motherfuckers drugged you.” Another swipe over my face. “It takes time to leave your system.”

“Where’s Noah, Dad? Please tell me he’s okay.

” My chest tightens like a vice, my heart hammering against my ribs as a cold sweat breaks along my spine.

My hands tremble. It feels like the ground beneath me is gone, like I’m free-falling with no end in sight.

The panic surges like fire through my veins, burning through the fog.

“Please, don’t fire him.” I clasp my hand over his.

He stops stroking. Our eyes meet. “My entire body hurts.”

“That’s because they beat you up, those animals. And for what.” Not a question. “They’ll fucking pay for every bruise they gave you.”

“Here.” I touch my heart. “It hurts here. Please tell me he’s safe?” My chest tightens; the panic flooding faster than I can hold it back. I can’t breathe right. My vision edges with black. “Please.”

Dad doesn’t answer my questions. He never does. He leads. Decides. And right now, I feel like crying again. I never want to stop. I want to be his little boy once more, cherished and protected. Right now, I wish I’d never grown up.

He sighs. “I didn’t know. Zachary fooled us all. I had an urgent meeting with the Board. No one knew, or so they claimed. I have my suspicions. What’s worse, he fooled me and hurt you.”

“There were others. Who were they?”

Dad shrugs, but his glare is lethal. “Some were his bodyguards, that’s for sure. I told you about the storm. Well, it’s raging, putting the Brotherhood in jeopardy. But my priority is here, with you.” His thumb swipes another tear from my cheek.

“I’m so glad you came that fast. They threw a stone through the window…it scared the hell out of me. It was your mask that was attached to it.”

“So I’ve heard. I’ll find out who’s responsible, Louis. Don’t you worry about it now.”

“Please tell me he’s safe.”

“He is,” Dad says gently, his smile softer than before. “He’s been calling non-stop.”

“I should hate him, right? For hiding things. For writing that paper to begin with, like I wouldn’t stand beside him.

But I can’t. They’ve treated him like garbage his entire life.

Zachary went after him the second he showed up in Paris.

Had him beaten, humiliated and for what? What was the accusation, even?”

“Rape.”

“ What ?"

”Yeah. Noah's grandfather confronted Zachary years ago. Called him out for his actions in front of the Board. Even went as far as telling Zachary’s wife. She left him, took their son, and the boy killed himself. That’s what this was. A vendetta festering for decades, passed down like poison."

I shiver at the thought of those videos.

"Was Zachary found guilty?”

“No, my boy. They never are. It’s against the code of the Brotherhood to accuse someone inside our own legal framework.”

“Wow. That sounds fucked up.”

“It’s a privilege,” Dad says, blinking slowly, “or so I’ve always thought of it.” “Right, now what to do with the professor, Louis?”

“Noah,” I croak. “I—I…”

Dad chuckles. “There haven’t been many moments in my life when I’ve caught you at a loss for words, but Professor Montague seems to do the trick. Is that why you took the helicopter?”

“I wanted to take him on a date.”

“Why didn’t you come home for your birthday party? We were waiting. I was worried sick.”

“I was too busy convincing him to make it official. He was anxious about his career, and about how his granddad had pissed off the Brotherhood. But he doesn’t understand…he’s mine. I’ve never felt like this before.”