Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Her father had an entire life off of the Isle with children. It was unacceptable, but we only learned about it when she took one of Osiris’ classes at a university. He’d made the connection almost immediately and a few short months later, decided she would be his. And Phoenix was just as obsessed with his sister, Pandora.
Her story mirrored Lolita’s, only with twice the trauma and half the hope. Or was the case until Nix grew tired of fucking their stepmother, and then killed her so that Pandora had to come back home. He’d finally disposed of the woman’s corpse a few weeks ago, having grown tired of fucking it too.
We were all pushing for the Electi to be close, to stay connected, and it was working. The bonds were tightening, the web of power and loyalty growing stronger by the day. But even in the midst of all that, all I could think about was Lolita. My Lolita.
I would handle my business today, and take care of what needed to be done, but I couldn’t deny the pull to get back to her. To see her face, to hear her voice, to remind her that she was mine in every way. We’d have our final Rite soon, and the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Lolita hadn’t brought it up yet—I wasn’t sure if she even understood the subtle shifts happening within her—but I knew. I could sense it in the way she moved, the way her body responded to mine.
She was changing, even if she hadn’t realized it yet. It was only a matter of time before she would understand what that meant. We’d be putting the nursery to use sooner than later, though I wasn’t going to spoil that surprise for her just yet. I’d let her come to that conclusion herself, in time. For now, the Rite was my focus. The ceremony that would seal everything, that would bind her even deeper to me, to the Isle, to our faith. It was the final step, and she was more ready than she knew. I’d made sure of that.
I pulled into the parking lot, sliding my car into the spot beside Jamison’s, his black SUV gleaming under the early morning sun. To my right, Bishop pulled in, and his ridiculous music vibrated through the windows of his car, shaking the glass and rattling my patience.
He always had a talent for making an entrance. As I stepped out, the bass thumped in the air. I could see my cousin leaning back in the driver’s seat, his sunglasses on and a smug grin on his face. He cut the engine, but the music didn’t shut off until he opened the door and got out.
“Nice choice of music again today,” I commented, my voice laced with sarcasm.
“Gotta keep things lively, dear cousin,” he quipped, his tone all amusement.
I sighed, but the smirk was already tugging at my lips. He had a way of making everything seem lighter, no matter how dark the situation. It was one of the things I respected about him, even if he did drive me crazy half the time. “Who needs torture for our prisoners when we can just have you play your playlist in the parking lot?”
He laughed. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
We fell into step together. Jamison stood by the entrance; his expression unreadable but I knew he was focused. He glanced from me to Bishop, saying nothing as we approached. This was business, after all, and we all understood what was at stake today. I let the thoughts of Lolita and the future fade for now. There was work to be done and part of it was keeping my word to her.
Two masked disciples stood by the heavy double doors of Carcerem, their silent, watchful presence a reminder of the power we wielded. Without a word, they opened the doors as we approached, and I stepped inside with Jamison and Bishop beside me. The cool air hit my skin, thick with the weight of the place, and I welcomed it.
We entered the lobby, a place of dark elegance, where every detail was carefully crafted to create an atmosphere of control, dominance, and quiet fear.
The opulence masked the brutality beneath, but that was exactly how we wanted it. For those who understood, the tension was palpable—there was no mistaking what happened behind these walls.
The reception desk loomed in front of us, and as I expected, Seth was there. The man seemed to live at the prison, always working the desk, always keeping things running smoothly. I was half convinced he never left, though I didn’t mind. Seth was exceptional at what he did. His efficiency and dedication were exactly what we needed in a place like this.
"Acolyte Seth," I greeted as we passed, my voice cutting through the quiet hum of the prison.