Page 98 of Coveted

“So the rumors are scarily accurate. Why did you do it though?”

He measures me with his eyes. “It was an initiation.”

“Into what?”

“I’m a member of a secret society that’s existed since the days of Benedict Darkbloom. Our lifetime members include multiple heads of state and CEOs of Fortune 500 companies.”

My blood tingles as I realize the stories are all true. Secret societies are real.

“They make you kill someone as an initiation?” I ask in hushed tones.

He shakes his head. “The task was to neutralize a threat to the company of a lifetime member. They were testing my loyalty, but also how I would handle the problem.”

“Did you pass?”

“Yes, but my actions were considered extreme. No one expected me to go so far. They thought I’d blackmail or threaten him. And I was going to.” He rubs his hands together slowly. “But when I went to his house, I discovered something unrelated to the mission that changed my plans. His wife was covered in fresh bruises.”

My nausea worsens. “From him?”

Lucan nods. “So I offered him what he didn’t offer her. A fair fight. Just the two of us, no weapons. The house was a mess afterward. Chaos. The wife called the police. She said a madman had broken into her home and killed her husband. I thought I did the right thing, but apparently not. By the time I returned home, my parents had heard. My father was on the phone, fixing everything. But I passed the group’s initiation. No one could deny it.”

There’s no pride or sorrow in his voice. He sounds contemplative, like he put this chapter to rest long ago. I envy his control over his thoughts and feelings.

I push out a breath. “You said your mother left when you were eighteen. Moved to Switzerland. Is this why?”

He snorts softly. “Clever girl. Yes. She said I was too much to bear, like there’s something wrong with me. My father was more businesslike. He said I clearly have what it takes to preserve the family legacy. That I’ll stop at nothing to do what needs to be done.”

I can’t fathom what it’s like to grow up in such an environment, but I try.

“Do you speak to your mother about it?” I ask. “Maybe she’s changed her mind.”

“Why would she change her mind? I haven’t changed my personality. I’ve only become more of who I am. Like you. You went through trials that forced you to learn who you are and what you stand for.”

Taken aback, I screw up my face. “How can you say that? You know very little about my life before Darkbloom. Only what I’ve told you.” I pause. “Right?”

The air between us grows heavy with something I don’t comprehend. It’s like Lucan’s potent, destabilizing presence strengthens and expands.

“Wrong,” he breathes.

My heart skips at the devilish look in his eyes.

“Wrong how?” I ask.

His every word is precise, like he doesn’t want me to miss a thing. “I was going to wait until the anniversary of the date to tell you, but since we’re sharing, I’ll tell you now.”

“What date?”

“February third.”

My brows draw together. How on earth would I know what that date means? It was a random day eight months ago.

Yet it does ring a bell somehow.

Lucan waits, watching as my anxious brain labors under this information.

February third. It wore grooves in my mind because I had been counting down to the date, out of nerves.

“That was the night I read my poem at the bar in Briarvale,” I say. “What’s that got to do with you?”