ONE OF THEM
SENIOR YEAR AT BARRINGTON UNIVERSITY
I’M ON MY knees, hands cuffed behind my back. I’m kneeling beside fourteen other brothers. There were twenty-five of us during my freshman year, but not all of us made it. A fellow Lord by the name of Ryat kneels to my right. My friend Jayce to my left.
Lincoln stands in front of us, hands behind his back, chest bowed and a smile on his face.
This is it. What we’ve trained for. What we were bred for. A Lord is a machine. He does not fail at any task, no matter how big or small.
I can feel the power that surrounds the room. Men dressed in suits that cost more than most make in a year. It’s like electricity. It excites me more.
My breathing picks up when I hear the singe of Ryat’s skin to my right as he gets his brand. I’m next.
One by one, we will each take our oath and become a Lord tonight. We start our senior year at Barrington in five weeks, and we are all very aware that this is just the beginning. The past three years of initiation are nothing compared to what’s to come.
Lincoln comes to stand in front of me, and I look up at him through my lashes. “Easton Bradley Sinnett, you have completed all trials of initiation. Do you wish to proceed?” he asks me.
“Yes, sir.” Without a doubt in my mind. This is just another step toward getting who I want—a gorgeous blonde who has no idea who I really am. I can’t wait to show her.
“Remove his shirt,” he orders someone behind me.
The fabric is yanked behind my head, exposing my chest and stomach to the room. I take in a deep breath, knowing what’s to come. The next second, the chain wraps around my neck from behind. A boot presses into my back, pulling it tight to restrict my air but not suffocate me. It’s so we can’t fight them. No matter how much we are willing to go through to get to this point, a man’s fight or flight will kick in during situations like this.
“A Lord must be willing to go above and beyond for his title. He must show strength and have what it takes.” He dips the end of the hot iron into the fire at his feet, slowly turning it over. I try to fight the chain wrapped around my neck, my cuffed hands clenching and unclenching. “If you shall fail your position as a Lord, we will take what was earned.” He looks at the guy who stands next to him. “Silence him.”
The chain is pulled tighter, taking away what little breath I had left while the guy shoves a cloth into my mouth. I fight harder, but the guy with the chain shoves his boot into my back, holding me in place.
“Easton Bradley Sinnett, welcome to the Lords. For you shall reap the benefits of your sacrifice,” Lincoln states before I feel the hot searing pain in my chest and smell my own flesh burning.
