Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“Been waiting on you guys.” Finn puts his joint out, and I roll my eyes at him. He makes it sound like he’s been here for twenty minutes.
“You guys packing?” Alex asks.
“Yep,” we all answer.
The Lords aren’t known for their communication skills. They shoot first and never fucking ask any questions. We walk up the steps to the Cathedral, and I push the double doors open; they squeak like they haven’t been used in years.
“I’ve heard this place is haunted,” Finn whispers.
Alex snorts. “Since when do you believe in ghosts?”
“Think about it, man. This would be a paranormal lover’s dream. All the people who have been killed here over the years, plus the cemetery behind it ...”
Someone clears their throat, cutting off Finn, and I turn to see none other than the man who is offering us the chance of a lifetime. He’s dressed in a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms, with black slacks and matching shiny shoes.
There are whispers about the Lords all over Barrington University. But you don’t know who actually is one. You have to be born into their secret society. Have their bloodline. But even that doesn’t guarantee that you will become a member. They have to endure years of initiations. I’m talking bloodstained-hands type. I’d join in a heartbeat if they would let me.
Alex steps forward. “Mr. Crawford—”
“You guys have weapons on you?” he interrupts him, not caring about introductions. He knows who we are.
We all nod.
“Hand them over,” he demands.
I pull the gun out of the back of my jeans and hand it to him. He removes the magazine and pulls back the slide, popping the bullet out that I had chambered. Then he tosses the useless gun to the ground. The sound of metal meeting concrete makes me cringe. The echo is ten times worse.
Finn pulls out his knife and hands it to him. He tosses that too. And so on with Alex and Jenks until we have nothing to protect ourselves with.
“Let’s go,” he orders and turns around, walking us down the aisle. I look around at the rows and rows of empty church pews. There are stairs on either side at the front of the room that lead up to a loft. In the middle sits what looks like a baptism pool, but there’s no water in it right now.
“I feel like it’s illegal for us to be here,” Finn whispers.
“Shouldn’t we sign an NDA?” Alex asks.
Tyson spins around, forcing us all to come to a stop. His dark brows turn down. “An NDA?” he repeats like it’s a word he’s never heard of before.
“Yeah.” Alex nods. “Or prick our fingers. Sign our lives away with our blood,” he jokes. “Otherwise, how else do you know we aren’t going to go and run our mouths about this place and what you’re going to pay us to do?”
The Lords take their oath of silence and duty very seriously from what I’ve been told. They will kill or die for it.
“I see.” Tyson nods once, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his black dress slacks, and steps into Alex. The others and I all take a step back, giving them space. “If you so much as say one word about me or anything I have you do to anyone other than who you see in this room right now, I’ll take a knife and cut both of your Achilles’ tendons out.” Alex swallows. “And then I’ll sit back and drink a glass of whiskey—neat—while I watch you crawl across the floor on your hands and knees with snot and spit covering your face, sobbing like a little bitch, begging me to end your pathetic fucking life.” Tyson gives Alex a chilling smile. “How’s that for an NDA?”
“I’m good with that.” Finn nods quickly, throwing his hands up. “I don’t need an NDA. My lips are sealed. I like walking.”
Silence then falls over us, and a coldness runs up my spine. Maybe Finn was right about this place being haunted.
Understanding that we know the bastard isn’t joking about his sadistic idea of torture, Tyson seems satisfied with our silence and turns, giving us his back, walking off to the right at the front of the pews through a door.
Jenks slaps Alex in the arm and whispers, “What the fuck, man?”
Alex just shrugs.
We walk down a hallway and take a left through a new door. It’s a narrow, spiral staircase down to a basement. When we get to the bottom, Tyson shoves open another door, and we step inside.
“Holy shit.” Jenks gasps.
Holy shit is right. It’s set up as an underground triage. It’s bright as fuck with large fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. There are a couple of hospital beds, monitors, and instruments scattered across metal tables. I also don’t miss the drains placed in the floor around the room. Makes me think they’re there for easy cleanup.