Page 12

I make a beeline to the back of the library. Kai said that she wasn’t in her dorm, and the only place she’d be this late at night is the library. It helps her focus when her mind is wound up tight. I see some members of PTO off in the corner, and another group of girls, but for the most part, it’s quiet.

My heart nearly stops when I see her. The soft glow from the green table lamp catches the strands of her golden hair and illuminates the faint frown on her face as she scribbles in the margin of her textbook.

God, I’ve missed her.

It’s been a month since Levi disappeared, and every day that passes without a word, without a single lead, feels like I’m slowly losing a part of myself. He’s not just my stepbrother—he’s my best friend. The Syndicate was only a word I heard when I was little. After my father's death, we didn’t talk about it anymore. So, knowing that they have him doesn’t feel right.

Being around her gives me butterflies—a tight, nervous feeling that I can’t shake. She makes me weak but in the best way. I want to reach out, pull her into my arms, and hold her until the world makes sense again, but I don’t know if she’d even let me.

I take a deep breath and sit down across from her, trying to act casual, even though my heart’s pounding like crazy. I’m close enough now that I can see the way her lashes flutter as she reads, the way her lips press together in concentration. Every little detail, every inch of her—she’s everything I want, everything I need.

She doesn’t even glance up when I sit down, completely absorbed in her notes. That small frown between her brows makes me want to smooth it away with my thumb. It’s cute to see her try and ignore me.

“You always study looking this good, or are you just trying to make my dick hard?”

Sable finally looks up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a moment, something flickers there.

“I’m just catching up,”

I lean in slightly, giving her my best smirk. “You know,” I say, lowering my voice, “If you were a homework assignment, I’d do you all night long.

Sable blinks, her eyes widening in surprise before a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. She shakes her head, a soft laugh escaping her.

“That’s awful, even for you.”

“But it got you to smile, didn’t it?”

“Dayton, what are you doing here? I’m just trying to catch up on some assignments.”

“Thought I’d join you. You know, moral support and all that.” I lean forward slightly, dropping my voice just enough to make it clear I’m messing with her. “Besides, I can’t have you all alone in this dusty hellhole. Who knows what trouble you’ll find.”

Her eyes flick back to her notes, trying to ignore me, but I can tell by the way her shoulders relax just a little that she doesn’t mind. Not completely, anyway. “Fine. Just… don’t be a distraction.”

I chuckle softly, leaning back again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

For a moment, we fall into an odd silence. We are usually so in tune with how the other one is, that there are barely any awkward moments between us. But I soon realize that she really is here to study, and I came empty-handed. I shift in my seat, fingers tapping the table absently as I scan the room. My eyes land on a brutish form stalking right towards us.

I watch Silas walk over, his eyes flicking between Sable and me with that intense, brooding expression he gets when he’s thinking a little too hard. Even after the fight the other night, Sable still decided to go back to her dorm and not home with us. I know that is fucking with Silas’ head.

It is fucking with all of us.

Silas approaches us. Sable quickly closes her textbook. Sure… she’ll do that for him. I roll my eyes. “My date, Si. Back off.”

Sable scoffs. “If this is a date, then you’re cheap.”

I ignore her dig and bare my teeth toward Silas as he flops down into the chair like he owns the library.

“Fuck. Off.”

Silas snorts, glancing at Sable. “You’re all cute when you’re pissed off, Day.”

I huff, wishing that I could take that backward hat of his and shove it far up his ass.

His voice falters as he watches Sable return to her textbook, seemingly ignoring us. I see the tension in his eyes. Her hand runs along the edge of the textbook again, but her posture is stiff like she’s waiting for something.

I glance around the library, and that’s when I notice something out of the corner of my eye—a door in the far corner of the library. It’s one of those nondescript, easy-to-miss doors that you’d walk past a hundred times without a second thought.

The door handle is etched with an AGU symbol, but it’s what is marked on top of it that makes me pause

An upside-down cross finger is painted on the knob.

“Hey, do you two see that?” I nod toward the door, and both Silas and Sable follow my gaze.

Sable stands up, pushing her chair back with a soft scrape, and approaches the door cautiously. Silas and I follow her over toward the door. Her finger smudges the cross as she traces the metal symbol on the doorknob. “What the hell?” she whispers, mostly to herself.

“We need to get in there.”

“Maybe we can ask a janitor for a key?”

“Or we could just pick the lock?” Silas says, pulling out his wallet and removing a lock pick from inside it.

“Why do you even have those?”

He shakes his head. “Trade secret, Day.”

I roll my eyes as he kneels down, and in less than a minute, there’s a soft click. Silas stands, looking far too pleased with himself as the door swings open.

“Show-off,” I mutter under my breath, stepping inside the dark room.

The moment we cross the threshold, it’s fucking dark. I flick on the light switch, and dim sconces blink to life. The space is bigger than I expected, maybe the size of a small bedroom, but it still feels claustrophobic. Bookshelves line the walls, crammed with old, leather-bound volumes that look ready to disintegrate at the slightest touch. There’s a thick layer of dust on everything.

I drag my finger along one of the desks in the center of the room, grimacing as a line of filth sticks to my skin. “That’s disgusting.”

Sable wipes her hands on her jeans, and her nose wrinkles in disgust. “No kidding.”

Silas is already moving toward one of the display cases on the far side of the room. “What the hell is all this?” he mutters, his hand hovering over a glass case filled with little trinkets.

I rub the back of my head. “This is some real Harry Potter shit.”

Silas scoffs. “Well, that must make you Ron Weasley, Day.”

“If you’re implying you’re Harry.”

He winks, stepping away from the shelves. “I was thinking more of Hermione—hot and smart.”

I groan, tugging on a drawer to distract myself from his ridiculousness. It’s stuck, jammed, like it hasn’t been opened in years, but after a little force—and a loud creak—it finally gives way. Inside, nestled beneath a layer of forgotten scraps and a stray pen cap, is a leather-bound scrapbook, yellowed with age. The cover catches my eye immediately—embossed with a dagger stabbing through a book.

The Syndicate.

I pull the leather-bound scrapbook out carefully, laying it on the desk like it’s made of glass. Something about the worn cover and the faded edges makes my stomach twist. Could this have been a meeting room for the Syndicate?

The first few pages are handwritten journal entries. The ink faded, but legible. The handwriting is neat, precise, almost obsessive, like whoever wrote it took pride in documenting every last detail. I turn another page. The entries shift to class lists, but then something catches my eye—photos. My fingers hesitate over the edges, my heart pounding as I take in the faces in black-and-white.

“Hey… that’s the year my parents were here,” Silas says from behind me, his voice breaking the silence and nearly making me jump out of my skin.

“Jesus, Silas,” I hiss, snapping the book shut instinctively. He’s leaning over my shoulder, way too close.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “Relax, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just saying… look.”

I open the book again, albeit reluctantly, and there it is, the year etched in tiny print at the edge of the page.

“Mine too,” Sable murmurs from beside me.

Her voice is soft, distracted, and when I glance at her, she’s leaning forward, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her fingers skim over the photos like she’s afraid of what she’ll find but can’t stop herself from looking.

I flip through slowly, the growing sense of dread gnawing at my gut.

Rows of faces stare back at me. My fingers hover over the students, frozen in time, smiling like they have no idea what’s coming for them.

When I reach a certain group photo, my breath catches in my throat. It’s a group of men and women, all young, all wearing the same navy blazers with a golden, embroidered Syndicate symbol.

“Wait.” Her voice is soft, almost hesitant, like she’s not sure she wants to say it out loud. “I’ve seen this photo before.” Her hand shakes slightly as she traces her fingers over the faces, stopping on a man with jet-black hair and piercing eyes. His smile is wide, confident. “That’s my dad. This photo used to be in his office when I was a child.”

My heart drops.

I force myself to look at the rest of them, scanning them one by one until my eyes land on another man. Darker hair. Cold eyes. A smile that could kill. The same face I’ve seen in my nightmare thousands of times.

“And that’s mine,” I mutter, the words sticking in my throat.

Silas is silent for a moment before he leans over. “Yeah, and there’s mine too.”

We stand there, the three of us staring down at the photo like it’s a bomb waiting to go off. Our parents—side by side, grinning like they had the world at their feet.

“Look at the blazers,” I say, pointing to the navy jackets they’re all wearing. The golden dagger-and-book emblem gleams on each lapel, bold and unmissable. “And the pins.”

The realization hits like a freight train. These weren’t just students playing dress-up for some frat-like secret society. The blazers, the pins—they were symbols of rank. Officers. Leaders. Our parents weren’t just members. They were the next generation of the Syndicate.

“This is getting weirder,” Sable murmurs, flipping to another page. The next spread is full of more photos. This time, candid shots. The same people—our parents—laughing together, holding glasses of wine and beer.

It’s a club. A fucking legacy. And we’re tied to it whether we want to be or not.

Silas suddenly steps back from the desk. “I hate this place,” he mutters, his voice tight and full of anger.

And for once, I agree with him.

I move toward the far end of the room. A small brass bird statue catches my eye, perched on one of the shelves like a forgotten relic. It’s odd and out of place.

My fingers brush against it, and when Silas meets me, he lifts it for a better look. There’s a soft click. The sound is subtle, almost too quiet to register, but then—without warning—a door swings open at the back of the room.

A dark, narrow hallway stretches out before us, like something straight out of a nightmare.

“What did I just do?”

I swallow hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Some fucking creepy ass movie shit.”

Without waiting for some dumbass comment, I pull out my phone and flip on the flashlight. The beam illuminates the narrow archway as I move toward it. Silas follows, but before stepping into the next room, he reaches behind him, pulling out something shiny and metallic—a gun.

“When did you start carrying that?”

“Always stay packing, Day. I bought it from Dredyn over at OCK.”

In the center of the room, there’s a table. But what’s on the table stops me dead in my tracks.

Photographs. Dozens of them. All recent.

My heart slams into my ribcage as I step closer, my stomach churning when I recognize the faces.

Toby.

Asher.

Their eyes have been scratched out, their faces smeared with blood.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, stepping back.

Beside me, Sable’s hand grabs mine and squeezes. She doesn’t say anything, but I can sense the panic building in her, the way her breath quickens, her fingers clenching against mine. Below the photos, a piece of paper is neatly placed, almost ceremonial, in how it’s displayed.

Behold, a wicked lineage, burdened by sin. Born of corruption, bound by deceit. The blood of the father runs deep, staining the hands of the son.

This isn’t just some old room.

This is a shrine.

A goddamn murder shrine.

My skin crawls. I glance over at Silas, who’s standing perfectly still, his jaw clenched so tightly that I’m surprised he hasn’t shattered his teeth. His fists are white-knuckled at his sides.

“What the actual fuck.”

His eyes are wide as he stares at the photos, his face pale.

I turn away from the table, my gaze catching on the far wall. A single photograph hangs there, untouched by the blood that mars the others. It’s Victoria. Her face is unmarked, her smile radiating off of the photo. It’s haunting in this space, clearly not belonging here.

“We need to leave,” I say, not wanting to stay in this room for another second. Whatever fucking trophy room we just found, I want out.

I turn and head for the door, my heart racing. The others follow quickly, none of us daring to look back at the horrors we’re leaving behind. We bolt out of the hidden room and back into the library. Sable grabs the scrapbook on her way out, and we don’t stop running until we’re fully outside.

The second we make it back to the Manor, Silas doesn’t waste any time. He slams through the front door, his voice a roar as he barrels into the den.

“Kai! Now!”

Sable and I trail behind him, her face pale and tense as she clutches the scrapbook to her chest. She carefully sets it down on the coffee table as though afraid it might shatter into a thousand cursed pieces.

“What the hell did we just stumble into?”

I flip it open, my fingers shaking slightly as I stop at the group photo.

Kai comes barreling down the stairs, his expression hardening the second he sees us. His eyes flick to the scrapbook, to the photo, and I can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to make sense of it all. “What is this?”

“We found a hidden room in the library,” I say, looking at Kai. “It was locked up, and dusty as hell, and filled with all kinds of weird shit—old photos, trinkets, oh, and a whole murder shrine.”

“Murder shrine.” Kai’s eyes widen as he looks to Silas for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Silas snaps, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Photos of the dead students, creepy journal entries, and this—our parents. In fucking Syndicate blazers.” He points to one of the men in the photo. “Isn't this your dad?”

“Jesus Christ,” he says, moving his fingers over the photo. “Yeah, that’s my dad… and my uncle.”

The photo is faded, but unmistakably them. Kai’s dad and uncle stand side by side with the rest of their graduating class, all of them wearing those damn letterman jackets.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Sable whispers, her voice tight as she hugs her arms around her chest. “Our parents were once all a part of the Syndicate?”

“Are they still?”

“Well… yeah? You don’t necessarily leave once you start working for them,” Kai says.

“Well, we know someone does,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “And whoever is responsible for the murders, they’re killing us off. If our parents are in this photo, we are dead. Toby and Asher’s parents are in here, too, according to the names. They’re taking us out one by one.”

I look over at the photo and instantly recognize someone who resembles Asher. I can’t make out who looks like Victoria, but I can only imagine that makes sense.

“Could the Syndicate be the murderers?”

Kai leans forward, his hands clasped together. “There’s something missing in that theory,” he says. “If the Syndicate is so powerful, why would they want to kill us? What do they gain from eliminating their own legacies?”

The society—our parents’ hidden, secretive world—is about control, power, and keeping their status secure.

So why would they start killing off their own?

“Maybe they think we’re a threat,” Silas mutters, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t exactly follow the rules, do we?”

“But would that really make them turn on us?” Sable speaks up.

She’s sitting on the couch, legs curled under her, staring at the photos like they hold all the answers. “I mean, what kind of society kills off the next generation of its members? It doesn’t make sense. We’re supposed to carry on their legacy, right? Our parents work for them.”

“Exactly,” Kai agrees, leaning back slightly, his brows furrowed in thought. “If we’re the heirs to all of this, killing us is counterproductive. They would be wiping out everything they’ve worked to build. So why do it?”

My mind races, trying to make sense of the chaos. Every angle we come at this from feels wrong and incomplete like we’re missing a key piece of the puzzle.

“It could be someone else,” I suggest, my voice low but certain. “Someone with a grudge against the Syndicate. Maybe they’re trying to take down the legacies to get revenge on the parents. I mean, why kill the kids if it’s not about power? It has to be personal.”

Silas stops pacing. “Revenge?”

I nod, crossing my arms over my chest. “Think about it. The society… whatever it is, has enemies, right? Maybe one of those enemies wants to tear it down by killing the ones who are supposed to inherit everything. That way, the legacy dies with us.”

Sable’s face pales at the thought, her fingers curling around the edge of the couch as if she’s trying to anchor herself. “But why now? Why start killing us now, after all these years?”

Kai’s gaze sharpens, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe it’s because we messed up the natural order. The four of us were never supposed to be officers of DSN. Only Silas and you, Day. We’ve poked the beast, and now it’s retaliating. Or… there’s a bigger motive we’re not seeing, yet. Something that involves more than just us.”

Silas lets out a breath, his fists unclenching just a fraction. “But if it’s not the society, then who? And how do we figure out who’s behind all of this before it’s too late?”

Sable looks down at the scrapbook, her fingers brushing the edge of the photo. “Maybe it’s someone who was supposed to be part of this society but got left out? Someone who didn’t make the cut, or maybe they were betrayed. Someone who has a personal vendetta against the people in that photo.”

“That would make sense. Someone with an axe to grind. Someone who knows about the society and feels like they were wronged.”

“But who?”

“Maybe Levi would know? If he were here… he’d be able to help us figure it out. He always had a better handle on this conspiracy bullshit.”

Kai nods. “Yeah, but he’s still gone. And we haven’t heard a damn thing about him since the day they took him.”

Sable shifts on the couch, her face softening as she looks at Silas. “We’ll find him, Kai. We’ll get him back.”

Silas tightens his jaw, nodding slightly, though the fire in his eyes burns brighter than before. “I know. And that’s why we need to figure out who is playing this game before they take out any more of us.”

“If it’s not the Syndicate, then who the hell would have this much control? This much access? Whoever they are, they know about us. Our families, our movements… everything.”

“That’s the part that scares the shit out of me. This isn’t just someone guessing. They know exactly where to hit and when to strike. And they’re taking their time.”

Kai stands, his posture rigid, and paces across the room. “We need to start figuring out who had ties to this society but didn’t benefit from it. Enemies, outsiders, people who felt wronged. That’s where we start.”

“But how do we do that?” I ask. “It’s not like we can just pull up a list of suspects.”

“We start with the parents,” Silas says.

Kai raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Yeah, because asking our parents for the truth has worked for the first twenty years of our lives. We were raised to accept the Syndicate as they are. Hell, even being adopted, I had to learn quicker than most that the Syndicate is law.”

I forgot that Kai was adopted when he was a preteen into his family. The only reason he was even taken at such an old age is because of the way he took care of his little foster sister, who was chosen by his mom, dad, and uncle. She didn’t want to go without him.

“And what if it’s someone we know? Someone from the school or… someone close to us?” Sable says. “What do we do then?”

Silas turns from the window. “Then we end this. Before they end us.”

We need to find the killer before the killer finds us.