Page 174 of Degradation

We’re barely out of the van when Titus is manhandled away from us. Malik and Mace try to step in, but I’m quick to stop them. There’s little point in wasting our energy considering this was the deal.

Conrad mutters his thanks before he clicks his fingers to have the man dragged away.

I don’t give two fucks what becomes of him. I don’t really care about anything beyond ensuring I get my end of the bargain.

Paitlyn sticks to my side and Antonio gestures for us to follow him in through a side entrance. I guess we’re not good enough to be walking in the main doors, wouldn’t want to create any unnecessary drama, now would we? We’re both wearing robes, we both have masks on to hide our faces but apparently Antonio doesn’t want to take any risks.

I can hear the crowd, I can feel the excitement as they chatter away, waiting for the fun to begin. For most of them, this is a once in a lifetime’s moment, at least, it’s meant to be. Three Chapter Lords in less than a decade is definitely testing the limits of how much the Brethren are willing to endure.

The sea of masked faces is a blur as we’re ushered into a quiet corridor and to a winding stone staircase.

“Where the fuck are we going?” I ask, as my skin prickles, and my head starts to whisper that this is a neat little trick to play, right when they’ve gotten what they need.

Antonio pauses, looking for the first time like he’s a little flustered. “He wants a word.”

“Who?” I ask, only Paitlyn stills, gasping a little.

“He, he’s here?” She whispers, clearly understanding something I don’t. She’s holding her mask up in front of her face instead of with her mouth, which allows her to speak.

“He is.” Antonio confirms, beckoning us to walk on.

As we get to the very top, I can see we’re in the Gallery. Far below us, that sea of masks looks almost like a mirage, a thing of fantasy. I can see the golden altar at the very top of the nave, I can see all of the Senate, in their rich, red robes.

But my attention switches to the solitary figure standing, staring down, a few metres from where we are.

The stained-glass light filters through, creating almost a halo around his head. He doesn’t even turn as he hears us, he just continues to stare as if he finds all of this is amusing.

Instinctively, I move my hand to grasp my pistol. I don’t know who this fucker is but I’m not taking any chances.

“Relax, Devin,” he says, his voice carrying the unmistakable lilt of an American accent. “I’m not here to harm you.”

I bristle at his casual familiarity, but there’s something in his tone that stays my hand. I pull my mask off, wanting to see him fully, wanting the use of my peripheries too, if he thinks to try anything.

He continues, almost to himself, “look at them down there, doing exactly as they’re told. So obedient, like perfect little ants in their colony, all following orders without question.”

He pauses, then adds, “You, on the other hand, aren’t so obedient, are you? It’s remarkable, really, that you’re still alive, considering all the chaos you’ve stirred.”

My anger flares, and I’m about to tell this stranger where he can shove his observations when it hits me who he is.

He chooses that exact moment to turn, to grace us with his face and I swear his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Grand Master.” I almost spit the name.

His nostrils flare, he looks at me, then looks at Paitlyn, and as he does, his features soften. She’s dropped her mask too. She’s got it in her hand, like it’s a deadweight and she lets, it drop to the floor with a clang as if she’s awestruck.

He has jet black hair, he must be mid-forties, more my brother Magnus’s age, and he seems to have all the same arrogance, the same entitlement.

Beside me, Paitlyn seems to be aware of his attention and she curls her hands into fists. “You…” She begins, only he cuts across her.

“You’ve changed, grown, although that’s not surprising. The last time we met you were a child.”

“I,” she stammers, frowning. “How have we met? When?”

He chuckles, taking a small, measured step forward. “Your father brought you to me, slipped you away from your mother’s ever watchful gaze.”

She gulps, paling more, trembling too. “Who am I to you?”

The question catches me off guard, I narrow my eyes, looking between them, trying to figure out what the fuck this is.