Page 180 of Degradation

“Everything is in place for the cull.” The Grand Master declares in a voice low enough to make me believe we are not all meant to hear those words.

Antonio leans in, murmuring something in the Grand Master’s ear. His gaze flickers across the room to where Paitlyn is sat before settling on me. The Grand Master’s eyes narrow, his expression is almost certainly a veiled threat. But he doesn’t say anything further, he just turns to leave, his footsteps echoing through the room as he exits.

Antonio takes a set at the other end, and I see how his eyes flicker towards those cages, towards Grace in particular. There’s a softness there that seems out of place for this room of cold calculation. Maybe I’ve found his weakness, maybe this woman is it. My lips pull into a smirk. He notices it immediately but doesn’t react beyond pouring out some wine.

“What did he mean by a cull?” Paitlyn says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Magnus leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “Our dear Grand Master has given me a list of names. Brethren identified as Esau.”

“And?” Conrad says, like it’s not fucking obvious.

“The Grand Master has ordered that everyone associated with these people, all their families, all of them will be eliminated.”

A gasp echoes beside me. Paitlyn’s face pales, her expression one of shock and fear. She leans into me, her voice barely a whisper, “Devin, my mother and uncle, they’re almost certainly Esau.”

Before I can speak, Antonio does.

“It doesn’t include you, Paitlyn. You’ve been pardoned of everything.”

Magnus shakes his head, clearly looking pissed about that, “Your wife is excused.” He says, half-spitting the word ‘wife’ as if he wants to replace it with the word ‘whore’. “As are you. Looks like you’ve done something right for the first time in your entire life.”

I stiffen, as that old resentment flares up. But Paitlyn’s hand squeezes mine, her touch grounding me, her voice a soft plea, “Let it go.”

I grit my teeth, glaring back, daring my brother to saythatword again.

“Come now,” Conrad says quickly. “Is this not meant to be a celebration? Magnus is Chapter Lord. Our family is the most powerful family in the country.”

Magnus inclines his head, like he doesn’t need the commendations, like all of this was a walk in the park.

The servants begin to file in, their silver platters gleaming under the chandelier light. They set down dishes laden with food, and it’s clear it’s a feast fit for a king.

Magnus raises his glass, “a celebration feast.” he declares, “The Blakes have risen higher than any can hope to reach now.”

I frown, hearing the words, not understanding the meaning. What the fuck does that mean?

Beside me, Paitlyn lightly pats at the tablecloth, feeling for where her cutlery is. I can tell she’s starving. The ritual was hours ago, and we haven’t had anything since breakfast and she barely managed a few mouthfuls then. I take her hand, guiding it to the fork, then pierce a piece of potato small enough for her to manage.

Magnus watches, clearly amused and I’m itching to tell him where to fucking stick it.

Only, he turns his gaze, looking from Paitlyn to Conrad’s wife, sizing her up the way a vulture does a rotting corpse.

“How is Brynn’s pregnancy progressing?” he asks.

Conrad preens like this is his greatest achievement in life. “It’s doing well. The last scan was good.”

Magnus grunts, reaching out for his wife’s hand. His grip is firm, possessive.

“Good.” He replies. “We need a strong heir, a Blake boy. There is a new order rising. The Brethren is changing. The Esau tried to fuck everything, but now, we should be grateful to them. Our Grand Master has decided that no new Chapter Lords will be chosen moving forward. They too will run through bloodlines.”

The entire room falls silent as the weight of his words settles over us.

Fuck me. That’s what he meant, what he’s been after this entire time.How long has he known? How long has Magnus been aware of this change?

I glance at Paitlyn and her expression is far less concerned than I imagined it to be.

“Good.” She whispers.

“So, what?” Conrad says, looking around the room. “You’re the last? What will happen when you’re old and dead then, who will be in charge then?”