Page 50 of These Shattered Memories

Cordelia’s eyes land on a spot behind me.

We all turn in unison to find Rowan walking down the stairs.

He looks different now, his presence more imposing, more magnetic.

He’s dressed in a tailored black jacket without a shirt, the jacket trimmed with the same deep green as Cordelia’s.

A silver serpent brooch gleams on his lapel, its eyes two tiny emeralds that seem to glow under the candlelight.

As he descends the stairs, the crowd parts instinctively, creating a path for him. He moves with the kind of confidence that only comes from knowing every step you take is yours to command.

When he reaches the dais, he turns to face the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the room. A smile curves his lips—not the playful grin I know, but something sharper, more dangerous. His eyes find mine briefly, and in that moment, I forget how to breathe.

Behind him, a woman with dark curls steps forward, deftly removing his jacket. Gasps ripple through the hall as a sliver of the serpent tattoos peeks out along his sides, accentuating the lean lines of his abdomen, the perfect V of muscle disappearing below the waistband of his pants.

I catch the whispered admiration in the crowd. The lustful glances aimed his way. It sends a pang of jealousy through me, but I push it aside. My gaze finds the tattoo over his heart instead— XIX VI.

“Now, as you know,” Cordelia continues, “As you know, The Ritual is a long-practiced custom among The Snake. Every Head must be chosen—claimed—by the snake itself.”

Halle leans in closer, her voice low. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“He’s going to be bitten by a snake,” Xander offers, his smirk widening, as if he’s enjoying our unease.

“ What ?” Halle and I whisper in unison.

“Don’t worry,” Hayden chimes in. “It’s not poisonous. This is all just symbolic.”

I force my gaze back to Rowan as the woman unveils a golden dome, revealing a coiled serpent. Its black and brown scales gleam like polished gems under the lights, its head lifting to survey the room. The air seems to still, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of us.

Rowan steps forward, lowering himself onto the alabaster stone. He sits with a regal stillness, his face composed, unflinching as the snake is lifted toward him.

My chest tightens, my instincts screaming to intervene, but I don’t move. This is what he wants, what he’s worked for.

The snake slithers over his shoulder, its forked tongue flicking against his skin as if tasting him first. Time stretches unbearably until, with a sudden, decisive movement, it strikes. Its sharp teeth sink into the flesh just below his collarbone.

I gasp, the sound lost in the collective exhale of the crowd. My hand flies to my mouth as a trickle of blood snakes its way down his chest. But Rowan doesn’t flinch, completely emotionless.

“The snake has accepted!” Cordelia’s voice booms, her joy uncontained. “Please help me in welcoming the new Head of The Snake.”

Cordelia drops to her knees, and one by one, the crowd follows, their heads bowing in reverence. The sound of silk and wool brushing against the stone fills the air.

Rowan’s gaze lifts to mine, and despite the sea of bowed heads, I feel like he’s looking directly at me. A small, knowing smile curves his lips. Then, without warning, he steps off the dais and begins walking toward me.

A ripple of murmurs follows his movements, confusion mingling with awe.

“What is he doing?” Halle whispers.

I can’t speak.

My heart pounds as he stops before me, his presence filling every inch of my awareness.

“Rowan?” I ask softly.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he kneels before me.

The hall falls utterly silent as he looks up at me, his smile softening, eyes filled with adoration. “I may lead The Snake, but you lead me,” he says, his voice steady.

Heat rushes to my face as murmurs erupt around us.

Rowan rises gracefully, turning to address the room.

His voice carries like thunder breaking across the hall.

“I am honoured to be your Head, and I will do everything in my power to earn your loyalty and your trust, starting now. If you follow me, you follow because you believe in what we can build together. Not because of fear. Not because of tradition.” He pauses, his gaze sweeping the hall, eyes defiant and daring.

“The Snake is reborn today, and with it, so are we.”

Slowly, the murmurs die down. One by one, the members of The Snake bow their heads again—not in forced submission, but in acknowledgment of something greater.

I don’t know when they stand because Rowan pulls me into a kiss that drowns out everything else.

I’m pretty sure I hear cheers from the crowd, but my world narrows to just him.

“So much for me staying away from The Snake,” I whisper, breathless.

He laughs. “It’s important everyone knows about you, so they know not to fuck with what’s mine.”

I smile, but a weird apprehension sits in my chest. Maybe they’ll know not to fuck with me, but they’ll also know I’m a point of weakness for him.

Before I can respond, he lets me go. “I have to go get my wound cleaned up before I get an infection.”

I nod quickly, hating the ache that settles in my chest when he lets me go and returns to the dais. The crowd swarms around him, their admiration palpable as dozens of hands reach out for his attention, their voices overlapping with congratulations.

“That was…” Halle’s voice comes up next to me. “ Wild . The Head of The Snake just bowed to you, Alex. You are probably the most powerful man in Senna now.”

I wince, the weight of her words unsettling.

“She’s right,” Hayden says. “Congratulations, Alex.”

I can’t tell if he means it, but there’s no time to dwell on it because people have begun to descend upon us, introducing themselves, asking for my name and who I am.

They come in waves, each more eager than the last. Faces blur as I shake hands and offer polite smiles, deflecting their probing questions about who I am and what I mean to Rowan. I give vague answers, my mind stuck on the man at the centre of it all.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Rowan’s hand slips around mine again, grounding me. His touch is firm, reassuring as he pulls me gently toward a quieter alcove near the side of the hall, away from the prying eyes and insistent voices.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, my fingers still entwined with his.

He leans in, his lips brushing against my temple. “Yes, I did. You needed to know—everyone needed to know—how much you mean to me.”

I’m convinced I might be dreaming. I shake my head, giving him another kiss. “I imagine a few people won’t be thrilled,” I murmur.

“Fuck them,” he says with a casual shrug, his confidence as effortless as ever.

I snort, meeting his eyes. “Congratulations, Rowan.”

“Thank you, Lexie,” he says and kisses me again.

I grin so wide my face might tear.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of warm congratulations, whispered speculation, and stolen moments with Rowan. By the time it’s one in the morning, exhaustion settles into my bones. The party shows no signs of slowing down, but I’ve had enough for one night.

Rowan seems to sense it before I say a word. He appears at my side, slipping an arm around my waist. “Ready to go home?”

Home.

Our home.

I nod, letting him guide me outside to the sleek black car waiting at the curb. The driver tips his head in a quiet greeting, holding the door open for us.

When we step into the townhouse, the expansive space already so familiar. Rowan heads to the kitchen first, reappearing in the living room with two glasses of whiskey in hand. He hands one to me before sinking onto the couch, his movements unhurried, his expression thoughtful.

I join him, the plush cushions enveloping me as I take a sip of the smoky liquid.

The weight of the evening finally catches up with me, but it’s a good kind of tired—a satisfying ache that comes from knowing we’ve made it through.

“You were incredible tonight,” I say softly, taking a sip of my drink.

Rowan smirks, his gaze warm as he looks at me. “So were you.”

I shake my head, laughing lightly. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You stood by me,” he says, his tone turning serious. “That’s everything.”

For a while, we sit in comfortable silence, the hum of the city below fading into the background. My head rests against his shoulder, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel … at peace.

Tomorrow, the challenges will come—the weight of his position, the scrutiny of The Snake, the inevitable dangers. But tonight, in his arms, all of that feels distant and manageable.

He tilts his head down, his eyes locking onto mine.

A slow, genuine smile spreads across his face, and he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to my lips.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the house and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against mine, I realize that this is where I’m meant to be.

I stand, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me. I look down at him, liking the way he looks at me. “Can we pick up where we left off earlier?” I ask.

He lifts an eyebrow and desire spreads through me, warm and urgent. I sink to my knees, kneeling before him. “You bowed to me and now I bow to you. I belong to you, Rowan.”

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his expression unreadable. Then his hand finds my chin, tilting my face upward. I suck in a careful breath, holding his gaze.

“And I belong to you,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet.

“Show me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “Use me however you like.”

His eyes glint, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Happily.”

It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago, he walked into that bar, midnight blue eyes looking at me with so much hate. Now, looking into them, I see nothing but adoration.

Outside, the world rages on, but it feels distant. Senna is made from chaos. It thrives on imbalance and imperfection, but in Rowan’s arms, I’ve found my anchor. I’m his completely.

Tonight, and always.