Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I wrap my fist around my cock.
I don’t give a fuck if Rayne turns over and sees me or not.
It’s his fault that I need to get off, anyway.
But a moment later he reaches for his phone, and I see that he’s not looking at me at all.
I glance over and watch his face drop into an expression of shock in the dim blue glow of the phone’s light.
“Goddamnit,” he whispers.
“What?”
“A second person just got attacked. Ethan’s in the hospital.”
5
Rayne
“I pledge to my brothers. I pledge to Crimson. I pledge to Onyx, for the generations that came before me, and those that will come after. Nocte onychina nigra, cor meum adhuc igne coccineo ardet. Honestas ante omnia.”
On an onyx black night, my heart still burns a crimson flame. Honesty before everything.
My heart feels heavy, saying these words while knowing that another one of our founding members is badly hurt.
The words in Latin always feel more intense, though we always say it in English afterward, too.
Each new member of Onyx is on his knees.
We’re in the grand front room of the Onyx Society house, swearing our vows for the start of a new school year.
Rows of red candles are lit in front of each paned window, the flames flickering near the glass at midnight.
Those last Latin words were so hard for me to memorize last year, but now I know them by heart in both languages.
We all say them in unison, louder with each passing word.
It’s been a few days now since Ethan was hospitalized, too.
He was found passed out in the entryway to his home, and apparently was only discovered thanks to a neighbor walking by and seeing his body limp on the floor through the window.
It was disturbing.
Fucking chilling.
But now more than ever, it made swearing our Onyx Society vows mean so much.
Honesty before everything really means something to me.
And we are going to figure out the honest truth about what the fuck is going on.
The three secret societies on Red Row are all doing the same thing tonight, each with its own traditions and vows. Walking down the street, all you’d see would be endless red candles, all lit within the window frames, dim light spilling out onto the road.
Everyone breaks out into applause after the ceremony, standing up and hugging our old and new members beside us.
Hunter is on the opposite side of the room, and I’m glad for it.
I barely want to look at him.
When I do, my skin feels too hot under my suit.
As far as I’m concerned, he’s not a real member of Onyx, and he never will be.
I discovered that the only reason Hunter was able to join is because he contacted one of our junior members, Roman Petrov, the same guy who keeps us stocked with expensive vodka that I don’t particularly like.
Roman keeps to himself, but he has a lot of pull in Onyx. The Petrov family has been attending Crimson College for generations, and they’ve been members of multiple fraternities and societies here. One of Roman’s many tattoos is a giant Onyx symbol, with the stone and flame, across his back.
If Roman wants someone in the group, they get in.
I don’t know how Hunter won him over. Probably with money, maybe with some other form of coercion.
A loud pop fills the air as Noah opens a bottle of champagne at the edge of the room. I walk past the rows of flickering candles, joining him.
“Welcome to another year,” he says, pouring me a small glass of champagne and holding his glass up to clink against mine.
“To you, too,” I tell him, taking a sip.
“Look at them. Next to each other under one roof,” Noah says, nodding over to the far wall.
Weston is standing next to Hunter.
“Two peas in a pod, hating each other.”
“You look more like Weston’s brother than Hunter does,” Noah tells me.
They’re the same height, but to me, the brothers couldn’t look more different. It goes beyond the slight difference in hair color. Weston has a thicker build. Hunter is strong too, but more like a lion than a bear.
“You know, Weston was my first real friend back in sixth grade,” I say to Noah, taking a sip of champagne. “He didn’t see me as a loser. Didn’t care that I didn’t have any other friends. He was just… nice to me. Always.”
Noah smiles. “I can’t picture you being anything but popular. Mr. Royal.”
It’s strange to think about, but Noah is right.
Being in Onyx Society has made me realize my other forms of power, even if I don’t come from money.
I actually am a popular guy now.
I can make things happen.
I helped a friend pass his European History class last semester by sweet-talking the prof, and then he was actually able to graduate on time.
I put out a literal fire during my first Onyx party, between a Luros Sorority girl and one of our guys, because a candle caught a curtain on fire while they fucked in his room.