Page 3 of Trapped

Elder Jacques takes a final step forward, leaning just that bit too much on his cane. I wonder if he truly needs the walking stick or if it’s purely for theatrical purposes. It would suit him, the slithering creep he is. The golden crown engraved in the wooden rod stares at me when the Elder stops right in front of me, throws me a filthy wink before offering me his back.

He’s now looking at Robin, and though I can’t see their eyes as they make contact, I can feel the air turning thick with tension.

Everyone’s aware of what’s going to happen now, since the Alpha Fraternarii don’t have secrets.

The church chooses this exact moment to announce midnight, with slow, heavy chimes. My chest tightens. Fuck yeah, tonight’s my turn to win, my amusement prepared down to the last detail.

“You stay,” the Elder tells Robin, then gestures to the other participants, “Go now! May the best man win. You have two hours. And remember—everything has been set up for our entertainment. And entertained we shall be.”

No one hesitates, clothes flapping in the wind as they run through the forest, fleeing for cover.

“Boys, wait…” the Elder hums, his eyes still on Robin. “If you give them a chance to find their cover, the sweeter their surrender will be. Now, you…”

“What’s that?” Robin asks, the usual mistrust creating a harsh sharpness to his slightly higher pitched voice. My heart rate picks up, ruffling steadily as it increases to a delicious, rapid thump. Fuck yeah, we’re really doing this.

“This is your choice.” I can hear the smile in the Elder’s taunt. Always fucking taunting, that old man. “What’s it going to be? White, blue or red?”

“Vive la France,” Golden Mask whisper-murmurs, followed by a muffled chuckle. The dick.

“Silence!” Elder Jacques barks, then swivels around. “Better yet, go now!”

My brothers don’t waste a single beat. In a fog of rustled cloaks and howls of excitement, they leave their spots and follow the footsteps of the participants into the woods.

Then, after what feels like forever, silence returns once more upon us. I’m still standing behind the Elder, waiting.

“Are those drugs?” Robin croaks. Yeah, my dick likes that tone.

“Final warning. If you wish to keep things as they are, you can leave now,” Elder Jacques replies. “Our guards will escort you back to your dorm, and you can be gone home for Family Break in less than half an hour.” Leaning in, he dips his disguised head in the curve of Robin’s neck, exposing my prey’s face to my greedy eyes. His wide, unblinking stare radiates horror and is focused on me, as if keeping his eyes on me would help him protect himself from this physical invasion of his personal space. It seems like not wanting anyone close to him runs in Robin's DNA. Ah, pretty boy, don't worry. Soon we'll be so close I'll be part of your DNA.

“You have exactly three seconds. One—”

“What do these pills do?”

“Nothing you didn’t sign for. Two—”

Robin lets out a grunt and then I see him snatch the white pill out of the Elder’s palm and stick it into his mouth. He swallows, making his delicate throat bob.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Elder Jacques pats him on the shoulder, sounding satisfied, much like my dick. The chase is on. “Now, run.”

Robin’s eyes remain on mine for the next few seconds. Then they flit back to the Elder and he blinks. I can’t help but wonder if the drugs are taking effect that rapidly?

“You’re exactly the crazy bunch of fuckers they told me about,” he spits out. Then he turns around and runs.

1

ROBIN

Ishould have told them to fuck off. Every single one of them.

My dad.

My brothers.

For the countless times they’ve made me feel inferior. For making me stand out in a world in which I didn’t even want to be seen in to begin with. Because we all know I don’t belong.

For the past twenty years, they’ve made me feel exactly that. Unworthy, an outsider. In return, I’ve given them exactly what they were looking for. The youngest son and brother, the spoiled brat with the cocky attitude. The pretender. As a teenager, I would skip class when Dylan, my bodyguard, was too slow to catch up with me, only to head back to my room where I smoked pot and drank beer. I attended the art academy. Got into poetry and philosophy, into painting. That newfound passion brought me into a different circle of people. Those who weren’t drawn by money and heritage. Those who’d hopefully accept me for who I was. They did, at first. We’d hang out and I was relieved to be away from home, from the accusatory glares. But it didn’t take them long to find out.

Long story short. They chewed me out, spreading venom and implying that I had no idea what true art was because I came from money. It pissed me off and I got into fights, my pride and self-esteem on the line. That’s when Dad intervened and took me from the academy, only to dump me at Saint-Laurent Boarding College for boys the following school year. It will be three years this September.

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