Page 1 of Look What You Made Me Do

PROLOGUE

Wyn - Initiation

I’ve never doneanything like this, and now that I’m here, I realize how insane it is. But this has never been about what I want. Tonight is about duty, tradition, and soul-crushing expectations...

The Burning Crown is a centuries-old secret society on the Exeter University West campus—ExU for short—and being accepted as a member is an incredible privilege. At least, that’s what my parents tell me. They’re both members, as were their parents before them, and so on. So naturally, when I was accepted into ExU, it was assumed I’d initiate into the society.

So here I am, standing in the center of a windowless room, naked beneath my dark robe, my entire body trembling. No one would tell me what to expect, so I’m going into this completely blind, which only heightens my anxiety.

After long agonizing minutes of standing alone in the center of the room, the door opens, and several masked figures start filing in, all wearing navy blue cloaks. Leading them is someoneholding a gold ball on a chain, white smoke billowing from intricate cutouts.

My heart leaps into my throat as they start chanting something in Latin, still moving in a single line, coiling around me like a snake, until I’m completely surrounded. Only when the circle is closed do they stop chanting.

This shit is creepy as fuck. Is it too late to nope out?

Before I can even entertain that thought, though, the leader stops directly in front of me, peering at me from behind his gold mask. “Gwendolyn Renee Barker,” he intones. “You come before us with the desire to become a child of the Society of the Burning Crown.”

Now would be the time to speak up and say, “Just kidding,” right? Instead, I find myself nodding, guided by that suffocating sense of duty. “Um, yeah.”

“You come of your own free will.”

I clasp my hands in front of me, squeezing them into fists. “Yes.”

“You agree to serve the order, to do whatever it requires of you without question or hesitation,” the leader intones mechanically.

“Yes.”

He nods once. “You will now be given the opportunity to show your willingness to submit to the order. You may halt the ceremony at any point, but in doing so, you will be escorted off the premises and forbidden to enter forevermore…”

Having the agency to stop the ritual gives me a small degree of comfort, especially since I have no idea what’s about to happen. I’m naked under the robe, though, so that’s my first giant red flag. If I had to guess, maybe public humiliation? Paddling? I’ve heard that’s a thing in secret societies.

I nod in response to whatever the guy just said.

“You need to say it.”

Oh. “Okay,” I say quickly. “I mean, yes. I agree.”

With another nod, he hands the smoking ball off to someone, exchanging it for a gold chalice. He approaches me with it. “Drink deeply from the chalice of knowledge.”

I grab it from him so quickly that the amber-colored liquid inside sloshes over the lip. I just want to get this shit over with. Lifting the chalice to my lips, I tilt my head back and drain it, then hand it back. Whatever that was, it tasted like really sweet orange juice, and it makes my lips pucker.

The chanting picks up again, and I allow my gaze to scan the circle. I’m new on campus, so even without the masks, I wouldn’t know anyone. But the masks give the ritual an extra menacing vibe, and if that’s what they’re going for, then bravo. Well done.

After a couple of minutes, that anxious feeling in my stomach starts to fade and a warm sense of euphoria washes over me. Clever. They must’ve put a sedative or something in the drink to calm me down.

But that doesn’t bode well for what’s to come, does it?

I’m feeling very floaty when a female member steps toward me and unfastens the rope belt that’s holding my robe together. She slides it off my shoulders, exposing my naked body to the entire room.

My muscles go rigid as the fabric falls away, and a wash of cold air brushes over my skin. My nipples instantly harden, and my hands move to my front, shielding my trimmed patch of pubic hair.

A female member steps forward with a long feather in her hand. “This feather represents our forbearers, looking down on us, guiding us in the way of the order…”

She brushes it over my skin lightly, then steps back into the circle. Someone else then steps forward, a wooden paddle hanging loose at their side. My heart rate kicks up about a thousand notches when I see it.

Without saying anything, the person nudges my shoulder, turning me around, so my back faces him. Then he applies pressure to the small of my back, instructing me to bend over.

“This paddle represents the adversity you will endure in defense of the society,” he says.

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