Page 43 of These Shattered Memories

I swallow, a weight settling in my throat because I don’t know if that’s true. My parents never taught me love, but I know I love my brothers. I love Alex more than the whole damn universe and its stars. I think they never taught me to love them .

“What happened?” he asks quietly.

“A car accident. Silly, right?”

“Rowan, I’m so sorry.” He pauses. “Do you know what happens now?”

“The Snake cannot live without its Head for long, especially right now. We have to pick a new Head tonight before the Scarlet Ravens make a move,” I say.

“Does that mean…?” he trails.

“Yeah,” I say.

He’s quiet again and my scalp prickles with worry. Is he disappointed? Will he not want me anymore?

“Maybe this is fucked up, but I’m happy for you,” he whispers after a long moment. “I know how much you’ve always wanted this.”

I exhale, warmth spreading through me. I want to keep talking to him. I want to keep listening to his voice because somehow he makes it feel like everything is fine, but I know I need to go and prepare for The Choosing.

“Thank you, Lexie,” I say, my heart swelling. “I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Good luck tonight.”

“Yeah—”

“Rowan,” he half-shouts, cutting me off. “Wait. Hold on a second.”

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“You said she died in a car accident, right?” He’s breathing heavily. “What happened exactly? Do you know?”

I frown. “She was on her way home with her driver. The brakes failed.”

He’s quiet for a breathless moment then, “Rowan.” The way he says it makes it feel like the floor is going to swallow me up. “I don’t think it was an accident.”

“What?”

“Professor Hawthorne,” he says. “She also died in a car accident. Her brakes failed. Same M.O as your mother. Trist was shot, and so was Daniel. That can’t be a coincidence. This is the same person. We are right, they have been taking out anyone who poses a threat since Hawthorne.”

The world around me tilts, the lights oscillating between bright and dim at Alex’s words. I remember now. Alex in my house. Alex telling me about Hawthorne. Alex kissing me.

How could I forget?

“Rowan?” he says.

I can barely make out my own thoughts. I suck in a breath, my heart racing at a thousand beats per minute. “I’ll call you later,” I say.

“Okay,” he says. “Be careful, okay? Promise me you’ll be careful. If they went after your mother, that means they are going to come after you too.”

I swallow, nodding. “Yeah. I promise.”

Alex stays on the line for a second longer, like he’s too afraid to let me go. I release a shaky breath, trying to sound calm. “I love you, Alex.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I love you too.”

Then the line goes dead.

I stand there for a long minute, clutching my phone and trying to keep my breathing calm. Alex is right. There is no way this is coincidence. My mother was killed.

Hayden appears at the end of the hallway, his hands in his pockets. “Are you okay?” he asks.

I’m not sure whether I should tell him about Hawthorne and the accident or not.

As much as I know I can trust my brothers, I don’t know if this is the right place to talk about it.

If Alex is right and my mother was killed, this could cause panic within The Keepers and delay The Choosing. I can’t allow that to happen.

Tonight, I become The Head of The Snake, and nothing can stop me—not even my dead mother.

“As okay as I can be,” I say instead. “But we need to talk after. Just you, Xan and I.”

Hayden watches me for a second, then nods. “They are going to pick you tonight,” he says matter-of-factly. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” I say.

There’s nothing I can do about my mother’s possible murder right now. I can only focus on The Choosing and I know they’ll pick me. I’ve made sure of it, but my stomach still twists in apprehension.

The Head of The Snake is selected by an exclusive group of people, including The Keepers and high-ranking officials within The Snake. Without my mother, there are seventeen of us, one to split the vote if there is a draw.

Once they have been selected, the chosen candidate goes through The Ritual and only once that’s completed are they are officially crowned Head of The Snake.

The Choosing ceremony is simple. I studied it countless times, picturing myself as the one they crown in the darkness of the Sanctum. For years, I’ve been making sure that when the time came, the Keepers would have no choice but to choose me.

My mother never taught me much about love, but she did teach me the art of gaining allies.

Power isn’t just about fear. Sure, fear makes people obey, but it can be fleeting.

What was terrifying yesterday can mean nothing tomorrow.

True power is owed. If someone fears you, they bow when they must. But if they believe you can protect them, they bow willingly.

People always want something and if you give it to them, they’re yours.

Give them what they need, but never without a price.

The Keepers know that as well as I do.

And tonight is when they all pay up.

***

The Sanctum is located in an underground bunker, built under The Serpentine during the height of the war between The Snake and The Scarlet Ravens as a secret location The Keepers could come and speak freely without fear of unwanted ears.

I’ve only been in the Sanctum three times before, each visit to witness a new Keeper sworn in. Seeing it again now—under these lights, under these circumstances—makes my stomach twist.

She shouldn’t be dead.

Not yet.

But here we are, and I have no choice but to become the man I’ve always wanted to be.

The walls of the sanctum are raw black granite, cut clean, and left rough. The only ornament is the gold inlay: a single serpent coiled around the entire room with its tail tucked between gleaming teeth. The ouroboros. Life feeding on death. Power looping on itself.

A bit on the nose with the symbolism there, I have to admit.

Candles burn everywhere—old tradition. No one really knows why, but we still light them. Some rest in iron sconces, others sit right on the stone floor, flickering around the raised platform in the centre. The air smells like warm wax, ash, and something like incense.

It’s already full when I enter, flanked by two guards. No one speaks. That’s the rule: silence until the Choosing ends. Even so, the tension’s thick. Some Keepers glance at me with faint sympathy, others just look straight through me.

My father’s running the show tonight. He’s the Snake’s Right Eye, which means he gets to make it official. There’s a kind of cruel symmetry in it.

We stand in a circle, all dressed formally in black and watch my father step up to a raised dais before turning toward us. “It’s time,” he says.

The words strike through the room like a bell.

He lights a single flame at the centre of the platform, and one by one, we step forward. The heat from the fire hits my face as I move closer, but I barely feel it.

A green robe settles over my shoulders—ritual uniform, same cut worn by every candidate before me. I don’t look to see who draped it. Doesn’t matter. My attention is on the Keepers.

Their faces shift in the candlelight—stone, shadow, flickers of guilt. And all I can think about are the secrets I’ve buried for them.

James Tartt’s gambling addiction sponsored and paid for by yours truly.

Cordelia Qing’s penchant for young men and orgies, which I’ve made sure to keep hidden from the papers, her husband and her the illustrious Qing family.

Michael Barnard and the secret child he makes sure to keep far away from Senna. I make sure that secret remains hidden.

Every charming smile, every hand I’ve extended even after my embarrassing arrest—it’s all been calculated. Every move I’ve made has led to this moment.

They owe me. Every single one of them.

And tonight, I collect.

But now, standing in the Sanctum with the weight of the green robe on my shoulders, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done enough for them to choose me or if someone else has been one step ahead of me this entire time.

My mind drifts to Daniel and Trist. One of them could be behind this and in my naivety, I’ve played right into their hand.

“Today we have been struck by a terrible tragedy,” my father says, bringing me back to the present.

His face is ashen, but he still stands straight.

“But as you know, The Snake cannot falter, nor can it survive without its Head.” His eyes fall on all of us.

“Tonight, you will all take part in history. You will mark the beginning of a new dawn for The Snake.”

I swallow, forcing down my fears but they spring back up again. Someone in this room knows what happened to Daniel and Trist, to my mother. And I have a sick feeling they didn’t do all of it just to let me take the crown so easily.