Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Christ. They’re like the fucking Stepford wives.” I put the vehicle into park and, never taking my eyes off the men walking toward our vehicle, I reach to unlock the compartment that holds my revolver.
“Don’t be stupid,” Jericho says, placing his revolver on the dashboard. He’s right. I’m sure first thing they’ll do is search us. I shut the compartment door, and the lock reengages.
Our doors are pulled open to the sound of too many men cocking their guns, circling us.
“Out of the vehicle! Hands up!” One yells, his big paw gripping my shirt to haul me out before I have a chance to react. He slams me against the car. My brother meets with the same treatment and we’re both searched.
“I want to see Girard. Tell him the St. James brothers are here.”
In response, the man behind me presses his revolver to the back of my head and cocks it.
“Mr. Girard is busy.”
“Tell him it’s Ezekiel St. James. He’ll want to see me.”
“Like I said, he’s busy.”
“We’re here for the show.”
At that he stops, and I glance back to see him thinking.
“Tell him it’s the St. James brothers here to watch the Councilor get his due. I’m telling you he knows us.”
He turns to one of the men, gestures for him to go to the house. Jericho is brought around to stand beside me. He breathes a tight breath in and gives me a dark look. We are so completely outnumbered. But Blue is inside. And I’m not leaving without her.
The man returns a few minutes later and nods. “Take them in.”
“I told you,” I say to the soldier who had his gun at the back of my head.
He jerks me forward and two of them follow us as we head to the house.
“Zeke,” Jericho says, gesturing with a nod to the patio at the Councilor’s house where we’d sat just two days ago. Was it only two days? It feels like I’ve lived an eternity in this time.
The patio furniture has been shoved aside and a fire blazes in a brazier. Maybe two dozen of Girard’s men stand sentry. I know because they seem to have a uniform of the same suit and those codas are fucking everywhere. One of them stands at the fire holding what I can see from here is a branding iron. I wouldn’t know it if I wasn’t Society perhaps, but this is my world. Six men kneel, hands bound behind their backs. The Councilor’s men, I presume. Each of them has a soldier at his back and when the man holding the iron approaches the first, that soldier grips the head of the kneeling man. I turn away only when I see the red-hot iron pressed into the forehead of the kneeling man. I hear his scream and I’m not sure if I imagine the sound of skin sizzling or if it’s real.
“Fuck,” Jericho mutters as the man at his back shoves him forward.
When we reach the guest house, I see a Rolls Royce parked outside with a very anxious looking driver sitting inside it. I recognize the driver to be Hildebrand’s man and glance at my brother as we ascend the stairs to the guest house.
Inside, several soldiers stand like statues. The television is on but muted and the video he blasted to every member of The Society plays on the giant screen. I watch the number of times it’s been viewed climb by leaps and bounds. An innocuous looking man I don’t recognize is manning the laptop sending the information to the big screen. The doors to the patio are open and we’re led toward it.
I look around for Blue, but she’s not here. He must be keeping her in one of the rooms. If she gave him the flash drive, and according to Dex, she did, reason would lead me to believe he wouldn’t hurt her. Although a glimpse at the face of the version of Antoine Girard on the screen reminds me how unhinged he is. How unreasonable.
We step outside onto the patio where Girard is standing beside that block. He sees us and claps his hands with excitement.
“Gentlemen!”
Councilor Hildebrand, the man he was talking to, turns and they face us. Hildebrand looks like he’s sucking on a lemon. I can imagine his brain working on damage control but there’s no controlling this shit show.
“Our party has grown! I am so glad you could make it. You are most welcome.”
He gestures to the chairs being arranged in rows all around the dais where the block is positioned. Who is he expecting to show up? Several men are setting up lighting and cameras to record the session. To stream it live.
“Where’s Blue?” I ask as soon as we reach Girard.
“Blue. She has managed to keep her naivete in all of this. It is commendable.”