Page 59 of Look What You Made Me Do

Holding the glass in my hand, I wonder why we’re being served champagne at a random meeting. That’s a bit weird. I’ll take it, though. Anything to file down the sharp edge of anger I’m feeling after Lucas’ confession.

The champagne is probably for a toast or something, but I down it in one gulp before even taking five steps into the room. I ditch the empty glass on a passing tray, then pull the hood over my head, and find a spot in the back of the room. I could try to find Alexis, but I’m not feeling very social right now. It’s already been a fucked up night, and I just want to get this shit over with so I can go home.

On the other side of the room, Mason brings everyone to attention with his stick.Thump, thump, thump.The room instantly quiets down, and someone coughs. Only when the room is completely silent does Mason announce the Sacred Sons.

I can hear them come in, but I’m so far back, I can only see the tops of their dark hoods. Not gonna lie, I’m glad I don’t have to see Lucas’ intense glare. I’m so pissed at him, I can hardly think straight. But my body hasn’t gotten that memo,apparently, because just knowing he’s in the same room with me sends a trickle of awareness down my spine.

Ugh,disgusting.

One of the guys steps forward to address the room—Ash maybe—but I’m not even paying attention. I’m too busy replaying my entire initiation ceremony in my head, dissecting every word the masked guy—Lucas—and I exchanged. His tone, the way he moved, everything.

Now that I know it was Lucas, it makes sense, but could I have seen the signs before? Did I ignore all the evidence on some weird subconscious level, because I didn’t want to face the fact that it was him? Maybe it was just easier for me to believe it was someone else.

But the truth is, as much as I hate Lucas, he awakened something inside me that night. A darkness that I now crave. A depravity that feeds my own twisted, fucked-up desire. For the millionth time in the last year, I wonder what’s wrong with me.

I’m circling that thought when I suddenly hear my name echo off the wood-paneled walls. Glancing up, I blink and notice every person in the large room is turned to face me. Oh, shit. I feel like I’ve been caught daydreaming in class.

I’m considering what my response should be when the group of people in front of me part like the Red Sea, creating a direct path from me to someone standing across the room.

Lucas.

He’s standing expectantly, head lowered, looking like the devil in his dark cloak, the deep hood pulled over his blond hair. His gaze is fixed on me. “Wyn Barker,” he repeats. “Come stand before your Lord.”

MyLord?I assume he’s referring to himself. Gross.

But, for real, what’s happening? I’m so confused.

On second thought, I don’t care to find out. I glance around in a panic looking for possible escape routes. But the door to myleft is blocked by a crush of people. I could wade through them, but that would make an already awkward situation a million times worse.

With a resigned sigh, I take the only option open to me and start moving down the path toward Lucas.

I stop within a few feet of him. “What is this?” I ask quietly, embarrassment burning my cheeks. Why is he calling me out in front of everyone? Is this another one of his cruel games?

A vibrating field of toxic energy surrounds us both and it’s on the verge of exploding. He lifts his head to address the room, but his gaze never leaves my face. “Esteemed members of the Burning Crown, I have chosen Wyn Barker to be my consort and queen.”

Whoa,what?

I blink at him, likewhat the actual fuck?The Sacred Sons selected their consorts ages ago, at the Preference Ceremony, which is held at the beginning of the academic year. And back then, he chose Ava. Not me. Well, I was dating Gabriel, to be fair. But still, the choice was made.

“You can’t have two consorts,” I point out, and I know that for a fact because I read over the bylaws with a fine-tooth comb a few weeks ago when I was helping Lux. The bylaws specifically state that a Sacred Son may only haveoneconsort at any given time. Our forefathers were egomaniacs, but thankfully that egotism stopped just short of polyamory.

With a laugh that sounds more like a sneer, he walks over to Ava, who is standing a few feet away, and removes the pendant from around her neck. She gasps, but the sound is swallowed by the ripple of confused chatter that fills the room.

Ava’s hand flies to the base of her throat, where the pendant sat just a few seconds ago. And just like that, she’s been dethroned. Devastation washes over her face. She looks so shocked, she can’t even hide it.

Lucas walks the pendant over to me, but before he gets too close, I hold my hand out. “I’m not accepting that.”

It’s so fucking ironic because just a few months ago, I convinced my friend Lux to take a Sacred Son’s pendant. Being a consort is like winning the lottery. Only four girls from the entire campus are chosen—one for each Sacred Son—and for the entire academic year, they’re treated like royalty. They’re untouchable.

But I don’t want it. Not if it means being tied to Lucas.

His jaw tightens, and with a glare, he reaches out and grabs my hand, using it to pull me forward. “I’m not giving you a choice,” he bites out.

I glance around. After that initial burst of confused chatter, the room fell silent. Everyone is staring at me, waiting to see what I’ll do next. Their leering faces blur together and I blink rapidly to try to clear my vision, but that only seems to make it worse. I suddenly feelreallylightheaded and that’s when panic grips me. I’ve felt like this once before, in my apartment, when I was drugged.

Was my champagne spiked? I drank it too fast to taste anything funny.

But, I don’t feel right and I quickly realize I’m in trouble.

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