Page 55 of Crown of Thorns (The Initiation #3)

LOUIS

N oah insists on partaking in the final Wicked Chase, and I’ve never been prouder.

It’s unlike him, my professor, my scholar, my man of codes and clarity.

But he signed the NDA. He made his choice.

Somewhere beneath his disdain, I saw something else flicker: the need to own the darkness that once threatened to consume him.

A dirty secret, just like how we began. Yet another proof of depravity that defines the Alpha Fraternarii, and yet another way he’s choosing to take control.

Participants have been carefully selected by brothers who want to lay claim to their chosen one. They're expected to run, pursued by masks, cloaks, and the illusion of ownership. It's a new ritual dressed as power, but rotting at the core.

The first one ended up collared. The second one was drugged and trapped in a giant spider web.

The third one was hunted by a horse. And tonight, a sinister reunion will take place.

I've heard the cat cage is ready. When I explained the idea, Noah was disgusted, but his eyes didn't fool me, flickering with curiosity. Neither does his body, responding with a confusing tension, part instinct, part unease. He hates the power imbalance, the illusion of ownership. But he’s here anyway, maybe to understand it, or maybe to reclaim something that was once stolen from him.

But that's not the only reason why we're heading out for Monterrey Castle.

The past few weeks have been amazing. We threw a birthday party locals still talk about, then spent weeks lazing by the pool.

Okay, I spent weeks lazing by the pool, while Noah used one of our spare offices to work on another paper.

We were insatiable. In my bed, the bath, on the balcony—where I lied about no one seeing us—and even in the pool. We even fucked under the stars in the ocean.

We've been living in our own little bubble, and I've loved every single second of it.

As we're getting ready to head out for campus, Dad calls us into his office, surprising the fuck out of us when he too, is dressed for departure. Next to him stands my uncle Levi, Gael’s Dad, in similar attire.

“Boys. Tonight's the night we'll meet in the forest. After the Alpha Frarernarii hold their initiation, we will hold our own.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asks.

A lethal grin curls Dad’s face. “It’s time to say goodbye to brothers who have betrayed our values. And it's time to introduce our future into the brotherhood. Noah?—”

“Yes, sir.”

I grin behind my cupped fist at the formality. I think he's still afraid of Dad. Dad winces at the word. “The Board has granted you acceptance to the Alpha Fraternarii. Unlike Dominique, who's only allowed to join gatherings blindfolded, you will be a full member.”

“I don't know what to say, sir.”

“Say you accept,” I squeeze his hand.

“I...accept.”

Dad nods. “I’m glad to hear that you accept our offer. Tonight, we will say goodbye to both Zachary and Jacques. Either with a friendly handshake or with force. I’m usually not a violent person, but they should have kept their hands off one of our own.”

My skin glows. My chest tightens. I'm proud to be a Deveraux, and I hope Noah will be too. Because I will marry that man one day, and he will wear my name.

“Thank you, sir,” he says, but I don't miss how his voice cracks just that little. Just enough. He squeezes my hand, too.

“Arthur, I want you to step up and join me on the board.”

Arthur doesn't speak, but when I turn his way, his eyes are already on mine. Waiting for that nod I give him. He nods back at me in agreement. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Good. Then let's head out. You do your thing, forget I'm even there. You won't see me until the time is right.”

Still, the air crackles when we make our way to the cars. Dad and Levi step into one, the rest of us get into the SUV.

He looks at me like I’m something sacred. We slide into the back seat, and the hum of the road falls away. Our knees touch.

“Are you really wearing your lacy panties?” he whispers, voice low.

“Nights like these always make me hungry for more,” I murmur, brushing my thigh against his.

He huffs a breath, but there’s reverence behind his teasing. “I’m not going to chase anyone.”

“I know, baby.” I hold up his briefcase with a grin. “You can work until the initiation.”

His gaze drags over me—tense, uncertain, needing. “Will you still claim me?”

“Always.”

We fall quiet. My fingers find his, and the air between us thickens. The car rocks gently, the night outside pressing in. We move without words, mouths meeting in reverence. Heat curls around us, slow and inevitable. We don’t need to speak.

Later, breathless and undone, we lean against each other—chests rising in sync, skin buzzing from the heat of soft kisses and the lingering taste of him. Whatever fear he brought into this night, he’s left it in my hands.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” I murmur, smiling against his hair, “put on your cloak and mask.”

He buttons the cloak with shaky hands, and for a moment, the heat in the car lingers like an echo—before duty swallows it whole.

“Let’s go hunting.”

P rofessor Noah Montague is sexy as fuck, running through the forest at night in nothing but a cloak and a mask.

The image is almost mythic—dangerous, beautiful, and utterly mine.

He was supposed to work, but when I offered him a matching one to my own golden and crimson, he left his briefcase and came with me instead.

He complains about inequality, but his tumultuous, grey glare tells me everything I need to know.

He fucking loves it.

What's not to enjoy about four guys desperate to make it through the initiation of a secret brotherhood? I mean, they all want it.

Tonight’s a brutal one, though. The kind that makes my blood hum and my fingers twitch with anticipation.

There’s a hunger in me—not just to watch, but to take part.

To remind them what it means to be owned.

And yet, somewhere deeper, colder, a question lingers: how much brutality is too much when the price is legacy?

We recently had the pleasure of letting a monster join the Alpha Fraternarii—a mobster whose family does clean-ups for the likes of us. Eduard is built like a brick, and the boy he's claimed as his kitten doesn’t stand a chance. Not that he wants one.

The entire night I'm buzzing with energy. There's plenty of sex, which I fucking love to watch. But Dad's here too, hidden somewhere in the darkness.

And when the Initiation finally ends, I'm not surprised to hear the bell ring inside the castle. Someone walks through the corridors, playing on a drum, wearing an army uniform from before the French Revolution. Blue and yellow.

Here comes trouble.

Three men, equally cloaked and masked, follow him down the stairs—my heart lodges in my throat when I recognize the golden and red between them.

Noah has joined Dad and Arthur. He's stepped up for tonight's punishment—not because he enjoys being a brother. He doesn’t. He’ll die fighting inequality.

But tonight, it’s personal. He'll die fighting for it in life.

But because he needs to avenge his past. The wrong that has been done to his family.

Noah needs to rewrite his legacy. And once he has done what needs to be done, he can take his crown of thorns and own the land that was left to him and make it his.

As we step through the underground tunnel and enter the Atrium, I see the commotion. Three men have been forced to their knees, held at gunpoint. No one speaks as we all move to stand around the center of the glass building.

“The Board has come out here tonight to turn wrong into right,” Dad says.

“And we have invited a select few of you to be present for tonight's punishment. These men have tormented one of ours. They have abused their power to make his life hell.” Dad’s hand lands on Noah's shoulder.

In support, perhaps, but most importantly, in a silent challenge.

“You have been given authorization to decide on the punishment. The Board supports your claim. Every last one of us.”

Noah steps forward. I don't realize I've held my breath until he speaks.

“You've given me hell. You've also given me love.

If you hadn't brought me here, I wouldn't have met my match.

My love. That's your mistake. Because you did him wrong in a pathetic attempt to get to me, just like you did me wrong in an attempt to get to my granddad. You should have killed me when you had the chance.”

He looks back at Dad, who nods. Noah squares his shoulders. I swear I can feel his eyes on me.

He holds up his hand for everyone to see the syringe he's holding.

A mutual gasp fills the Atrium. “This is what they used on my love. Not enough to kill, but enough to hurt. Enough for him to be left unprotected, but unable to do anything about it, while they tortured his mind, and brutalized his body.”

Noah steps forward. One of the men muffles a complaint through his gag, but the guard kicks him in the back, morphing the sound to a pathetic whimper.

“Tonight, you are the wrath of a life filled with bitterness,” he says, his voice steady but trembling at the edge.

“My life. You destroyed my happiness. You shattered my chance to ever be reunited with my family. You threatened my love.” I never thought I was capable of hating anyone except myself. But you are proving me wrong.”

More whimpers this time. Noah ignores them, instead crouches down in front of the first man and rips off his mask.

There’s a communal gasp. Behind me, someone mutters, "About damn time." Another nods. No one looks away.

I’m staring at the face of a stranger, but his mask, I remember all too well. Now he's a blubbering mess.

Noah doesn't let him speak, just plunges the syringe into his arm and empties it. It doesn’t take long for his body to start convulsing, his eyes rolling back. He dies with a surprised look on his face.

Noah crouches back in front of Zachary, who glares at him with a ferocity that makes me believe he still thinks he can get out of this. “There's no happy ending for the devil,” Noah mutters. “I'm giving you my inner monsters, because I'm tired of them always ruining everything.”

He empties the syringe into his veins.

While Zachary’s body has a seizure, Noah moves to the third man.

Elder Jacques.

His cane lies next to him on the tiles.

“My future fiancé hates you,” Noah murmurs. “I'll see you in hell.” And it’s not just rage, it’s clarity. He’s not ashamed anymore. He’s choosing me, even in violence, even in vengeance.

Something in me detonates at the words. Not just because he said it aloud, but because he meant it. It wasn’t a slip of the tongue. It was a promise, a vow. A lifeline thrown straight into my chest. For one surreal second, the world narrows to him and me and the future he's finally claiming.

The Atrium, our glass cathedral, holds its breath as if recognizing the vow. It has seen us broken, bound, and now...reborn.

He still looks down at the corpses long after they’ve stopped twitching. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just stares at his hands like they belong to someone else. Then he looks up, blank, wrecked, alive.

“Sweetheart,” he finally says. “Take me home.”

The blood on his hands mirrors the ink on his arm: painful, permanent, earned.

His voice barely carries, thick with weariness.

I watch him, his shoulders loose, hands unsteady, but his jaw still tight with purpose.

For all the fury he just unleashed, there’s something broken in his eyes now.

A man who has buried pieces of himself with each body.

My throat tightens. I want to hold every shattered part.

We step out into the cool night, the forest alive with secrets and shadows, but our hands are clenched tight.

We leave the Atrium with blood still wet on Noah’s fingers.

He doesn’t look back. Just walks like he owns the forest now, his jaw set, like it’s always belonged to him. And maybe he does.

His mask is off. His jaw is set. His hands shake, but he doesn’t stop moving until we’re clear of the lights and the people and the memory of three bodies twitching on the floor.

I reach for him. He lets me. Fingers tight, grounding.

“You did it,” I whisper.

“No,” he says, voice low. “They did it. I ended it.”

We walk. The leaves crunch underfoot. Somewhere in the distance, someone screams and someone laughs, and it all feels like static.

“I meant it,” he adds. “What I said. About you.”

I nod, throat burning.

He turns to me, eyes wild and wet and defiant. “Let’s go home. And don’t make me beg again.”

I grin, teeth sharp. “I wouldn’t dare.”

He may have killed for justice. But he killed for me too. And I’ll never fucking forget it.

He pulls me in, no warning, no hesitation, and kisses me like we’ve survived a war. Because we have. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate and raw and perfect.

I kiss him back just as hard. Just to remind him.

He’s mine now.

Always has been.