Page 124 of Beloved Sacrifice

“If you wish to become a member, you may do so now. All debts will be forgiven, on both sides.”

Rose sucked in a breath.

“All debts,” Weston repeated.

“Yes.”

He turned to look at her. Rose didn’t move. He faced forward and nodded.

“I accept, Grand Master.”

“In the interest of time, we will skip the full ceremony. Repeat after me: Nitimur in Vetitum.”

Weston’s voice was strong and sure. “Nitimur in Vetitum.”

“Welcome to the Trinity Masters.”

“Thank you, Grand Master.”

The gold chain across her chest and shoulders glinted in the light as the Grand Master took a deep breath and started to speak.

“When you joined, you made a vow. You pledged your lives to our cause and our way. The time has come for you to meet your partners, your lovers, your spouses.”

Rose sucked in a breath. She’d been right. They were getting married. Her gaze jumped to the hooded figure in the third chair. Who was it?

If she were Juliette, she’d stick them with the most loyal, straight-laced member she could find on short notice. Someone who would keep an eye on her and Weston, and report everything back. Rose hid a grimace, then reminded herself that you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. She and Weston were both going to get out of this alive, and they’d be together. That was something she wouldn’t have dared hope for only hours ago.

“When I call your name, stand and remove your robe. Rose Hancock.”

Rose stood and stripped off her white robe. Normally members were either naked or, in the case of the women, in elegant lingerie. When she’d been in high school, she and the other legacies would browse the internet, picking out sexy lingerie they’d wear when they were called to the altar. Rose had always stayed in the background of the conversations, since she was rarely allowed to wear underwear, and if she was, it was always lacy.

And unlike the other girls, she hadn’t been a virgin.

That girl, the one internally cringing as she’d pretended to be excited about the day she was called to the altar, would have been shocked to know that she’d one day be standing here, about to marry Weston.

And she’d be wearing a pair of jeans and a ripped shirt.

“Weston Anderson.”

Weston stood and shed his robe. She got to admire his profile, the way the light above made strands of his hair glint gold. She focused her attention on the third figure.

“Marek Lee.”

“What?” Weston demanded.

Marek stood, throwing his hood back and then removing the robe. He put his hands on his hips.

“You son of a bitch,” Weston snarled. “What did you tell them?”

“Language,” Marek said mildly. “I haven’t lied or betrayed you.”

Rose stared at Marek in shock, her mind racing.

Weston started toward Marek and Rose raced forward, grabbing him by the elbow. “Hold on, Wes, hold on.”

He stopped, but she could feel him vibrating with rage.

Marek looked at them, his expression seemingly as calm as ever, but the edges of his eyes were a bit tight, and as she watched, he swallowed.

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