Page 98 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Devin

I can tell Paitlyn is on edge.

From the moment we got in the van, she’s not said a word, she just keeps biting her lower lip, chewing it, like she’s convinced this is all some horrible mistake but she’s too afraid to say it out loud and make it come true.

“Trust me.” I say, reaching across, gripping her tiny hand in mine.

She looks up at me, with those big fake doe eyes, but she doesn’t say the words, she doesn’t nod, or smile, or do anything to tell me I’ve reassured her.

When we pull off the road and down the gravel track, I swear you can see the pulse in her neck beating more and more.

I can’t blame her. She’s spent the last few years locked in this prison, trapped in the darkness, forced to endure everything Guthrie’s fucked up mind could imagine.

Coming back here must have an effect, even if she can’t see this place, she can feel what it is, she can hear those same sounds, can smell that same distinctive stench of human suffering.

I tell Malik to pull over, to park the van in a discreet spot.

As much as I don’t want either of them to learn about this entrance, I think the benefits far outweigh the risks.

I don’t think this is a trap, but I’d rather have some backup if it is.

Worst case scenario, I can always eliminate them if they prove to be untrustworthy.

We then make our way in silence, me and Paitlyn up front, and them behind, echoing our steps, shadowing us.

Paitlyn sticks close to me, partly because she’s blind and has no idea where to go, and partly because she’s petrified. Once we’re up over the rocks and into the lower chamber I stop for a moment and try to reassure her, only it does little to help.

“Here,” I say, pulling out my dagger and fixing it into her palm. “No one is going to touch you but if it makes you feel better then you can keep this.”

She nods, before pulling a face, “What if I accidentally stab you?”

I let out a chuckle, “If that’s the risk I have to take to ensure you’re comfortable, then it’s worth it.”

She mutters back about me becoming “soft”, but I see her tuck the blade into her waistband, concealing it from view.

And I also see the way her shoulders drop, the way the tension in her bones seems to ease. I doubt in all honesty the dagger will do much but if it keeps her happy then that alone is a good job.

We walk past those same bones, past my old friend, Jefferson.

I don’t comment, I don’t point them out, I just say a silent word in my head, a silent acknowledgement, imagining that he’s watching us now, watching me and my new wife as we make our way.

Paitlyn doesn’t realise, she carries on oblivious.

It’s when we get up past the service way that the fun begins. Antonio told us to meet my brothers in the ante chamber, that Oblivion has been shut down entirely for the few hours that this meeting will last.

It’s eerie to walk through this place and see no one. All the slaves must be locked away, crammed into the nether regions of this prison.

Behind me, Mace and Malik stare down the vast corridors as we pass each one. I know neither of them have been here before, they’re not high enough in the pecking order to be granted playtime.

When we get to our destination, I stare up at all those skulls for a moment. There must be thousands here, thousands of skulls, some are encrusted in gold, some are crumbling away on their plinths. In the middle column, I can see all the ones that belong to my family, to the skulls of my parents.

As a child, this place fascinated me. I used to spend hours here, climbing from alcove to alcove. I even smashed a few skulls by accident and had to switch them out with higher up ones so no one would notice and beat me for it.

Knowing this was where I’d end up always used to leave me with a sense of belonging. A sense of pride, purpose even.

But now, it’s not pride I feel, it’s derision. It’s like my eyes are finally open. We Blakes are nothing more than puppets for the Brethren, nothing but soldiers, keeping everyone else in check.

But if my brother makes Chapter Lord… I shake my head. Even if Magnus does become our great leader, it doesn’t alter some facts. It’s not a hereditary title; it won’t stay in our family once he dies. Yes, it will elevate our status, but ultimately, we will all still end up here, just the same.

Ahead, someone lightly coughs. It’s a woman.

I look over, narrowing my eyes, recognising the outline of my oldest brother’s wife.

She’s put on weight since the last time I spied her.

She looks better now, less gaunt. That brand on her chest has completely healed, it gleams almost iridescent in the light.

I’ll admit I’m curious about her, curious about their relationship.

She’s not Brethren and yet my brother still married her.

I heard enough of the rumours to know how they started off, and I don’t believe my brother is anywhere near capable of feelings like love.

So why did he do it? What possible prize could she offer him that made it worth such an offence?

Beside her, Magnus stands, looking his usual irritated self.

My other brother is murmuring something into his ear, and I can see it’s pissing him off.

Clearly, Conrad has fully recovered from the shooting, but then I did shoot to maim, not to kill.

Conrad has one hand placed on his wife’s head, as if he’s controlling where she looks, as if she’s not allowed to even turn without permission.

God, what a pair they make. But then, the apple doesn’t fall so far from the tree, I may be soft with Paitlyn, but I will also dominate her when it’s necessary.

And if she thinks to disobey me, if she thinks to try and run…

well, it’s a good thing she doesn’t have her sight, and such a thing can’t happen.

Because I’d hate to break her more if I had to.

“I see this is a proper family reunion.” I say, stepping closer to them all. “How charming.”

Magnus’s eyes flash, he glances at Mace and Malik, and I can see he’s pissed I’ve brought backup. As if I’d be so stupid as to come alone.

His wife looks like all the colour drains from her face as she runs her eyes over me, I guess he neglected to mention my physical size then.

Conrad smirks, like he’s here for the sheer fun of this and nothing more, and honestly, I don’t blame him. If I were him, I’d happily watch the entire thing play out with a bowl of popcorn.

His young wife rocks gently beside him, one foot dangling out of the gold-plated wheelchair, dragging on the floor slightly as she moves.

On her chest is a similar brand to Magnus’s wife, only hers looks red raw, like she’s clawed at it recently.

Her belly is swollen enough to make it more than apparent she’s pregnant.

She makes a strange gurgling noise when she spots me, and he lifts his hand, placing it on top of hers, and the action renders her silent.

“You’re late.” Magnus says.

“Bullshit.” I reply. If anything, we’re five minutes early.

Paitlyn tenses more at the sound of his voice and I can see from the way my brother’s eyes sparkle that he enjoys the effect he has on her.

My fingers flex, I’m itching to pull out my gun and put a bullet in his thick fucking skull. I know it’s irrational, but I hate the fact that he of all people can get a response from her.

Paitlyn squeezes my arm, like she understands I’m so close to going on a damn rampage.

“Play nice.” She whispers low enough for only me to hear.

I grunt back. She’s right. The more we drag this out, the more bullshit we’ll have to put up with.

I take another step closer, spotting Antonio lurking off to the side. Sneaky bastard, of course he’d be here. He wants to make sure all of this falls into place, that I do my part and settle this feud.

“You know our demands?” I say to Magnus, ignoring Conrad entirely.

Magnus fixes that gaze on me; one I know so well. One of contempt, one of derision, but also one that underneath shows that he’s not fully in control and he knows it.

“You want a truce?” Magnus snarls. “A fucking truce?”

He moves fast, grabbing hold of Paitlyn, yanking her by her hair. His wife calls out, as if she’s stupid enough to try and admonish him.

But before I can step in and beat the bastard to a pulp, he hisses, falling backwards slightly and Paitlyn slips free from his grip.

“Your fucking whore stabbed me.” He spits, touching his side, where the obvious patch of blood is now appearing on his shirt.

I yank Paitlyn back behind me as she slips that same dagger back securely into her waist. So much for playing nice then.

“She’s not a whore.” I reply. “She’s my wife. And she’s a Founder. That makes her better than you, better than all of us. Touch her again and I’ll gut you.”

“My wife is a Founder too.” Conrad states.

I glance at her, at the woman in the wheelchair. She’s got a strange goofy grin on her face now and she’s rocking the chair back and forth slightly, the way a child might when they’re getting fidgety.

“I see we both married well.” I comment, before fixing my gaze back on Magnus. “Apparently you’re the only one who disappointed in that respect.”

His wife doesn’t react at all to my insult, but he snarls. “My wife is loyal to me. My wife would die for me. Neither of you can say that for a fact.”

“Paitlyn was willing to.” I retort, pointing my finger at him as I lose my temper. “Paitlyn let herself be locked away for what she thought was my sins. And you, you knew she was innocent.”

“This isn’t helping.” Conrad sighs. “You want a truce, then we all need to let the past go.”

“Easy for you to say.” I snap. He’s been free the entire time, he’s been gallivanting about, drinking and fucking, while I was locked up and forgotten about.

“Conrad is right.” Antonio says, stepping between all of us. “None of this is helping.”

“Then what do you suggest?” I sneer.

“You have Titus, if you hand him over to us, then Magnus is willing to be amenable.” The way he says it, the way his voice goes so silky smooth. No wonder Paitlyn saw him as some sort of hero.

“Meaning?” I retort.

“Meaning, I forget your offences, I even let your whore remain with you…” My brother says.

“Call her a whore again, I fucking dare you.” I spit, taking a step forward. Magnus may think he can throw his weight around, but he has nothing on me, and he knows it.

“Magnus.” Antonio mutters almost as an admonishment.

My brother turns his head, looking at him like he’s ready to throw it all in.

“Paitlyn will never be back to Oblivion after today.” I state, looking between the pair of them, my brother, and the man who failed her, the man who was put in place to keep her safe, her fucking guardian. “She should never have been here in the first place.”

Antonio once more looks across at Magnus and I wonder then what conversations they’ve had, how their relationship might have altered now that he’s aware of my brother’s part in Paitlyn’s betrayal.

“You want a pardon?” Magnus says suddenly. “You want me to wipe the slate clean, is that it? She was hardly the model wife; she was fucking everyone in that palace.”

“Not through my own choosing.” Paitlyn cries.

Magnus grins, “No? I’m sure I saw you eagerly sucking on a cock or two at his little parties.”

I lose it then. I lose what little control I have left. My body barrels into his. His wife screams, stepping back, and I slam one fist into his smug fucking face.

Antonio, Conrad, and Magnus’s wife pull me off. Behind me, I can hear Paitlyn starting to panic because she has no idea what the fuck is going on.

I shove them off, get back to my feet and pull her into my side. “He won’t say shit like that again,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, whispering that it doesn’t matter, only, it does. No one is going to insult my wife, and especially not within my earshot.

Magnus jerks his arm, sitting on the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose as the crimson blood streams down his crisp white shirt. “Fuck me,” He gasps. “You finally learnt how to hit.”

It’s Conrad who laughs first. I join in with him and even Magnus eventually lets out a snigger.

“I can’t give you a pardon.” Magnus says once we fall to silence. “No Chapter Lord can. And besides, she’s meant to be dead.”

“So, it’s pointless?” Paitlyn whispers.

“Not necessarily.” Antonio replies before anyone else can say anything. “Let me speak to our Grand Master, let me see what we can do. Perhaps it won’t be a pardon you get, but a new identity.”

I raise an eyebrow questioningly. Is one measly Founder really worth that much to the Brethren?

“I still need Titus.” Magnus states. “And none of us can afford for me not to become Chapter Lord.”

“I’m not giving you anything till I get what I want.” I say.

“Leave it with me.” Antonio says far more confidently than I expect.

“The Ritual is in five days.” Magnus snaps.

So soon? No wonder my brother looks stressed, I’m about to ruin all his perfectly laid plans. I fight the urge to rub my hands together with glee and really rub it in.

“Trust me, Magnus, I haven’t let you down yet.” Antonio states.

“And what about us, you expect us just to trust you on this?” I half-snarl.

Antonio gives me such a withering look as he walks up to Paitlyn, as he takes her hand. “I promised you before I would keep you safe, remember?”

“And then you left me for the wolves.” Paitlyn says.

“Let me make it up to you this time. Let me fix this.” He sounds almost pleading. I look between them and once more, that jealousy rages.

“If you let her down this time, I’ll ensure you’ll live to regret it.” I say.

He raises his brown eyes to look at me but whatever he wants to say, he clearly thinks better of it. Smart man, he’s finally learning then.

“Five days.” He says as he walks away. “Bring Titus to the Cathedral in five days’ time, and I’ll do what is necessary on my end.”