Page 27 of A Twisted Arrangement

Matthias

We grabthe cloaks we stashed at the Vaults’ entrance and pull them over our masked heads. Not that anyone could mistake who we are. The gold wolf mask clearly indicates we’re the Lords of the Order of Saints. The Order is split up into an unquestionable hierarchy: the Lords at the top, followed by the Saints in silver masks, and finally, the Unsainted, men who anticipate joining but haven’t yet been initiated.

I’m glad that’s not what’s happening tonight. The blood ceremony is boring as fuck.

Instead, we’re holding an open forum where Saints can bring matters to us for assistance. We’re stronger as a collective. It never fails to turn into a giant bitch fest, and not for the first time have I wished we didn’t have to do this. But the Order is built on tradition that even the Lords can’t change. It’s what makes us strong.

Bash is first through the door, heading into the Vaults. Saints line the way to the front, making a path for us. Arched stone walls behind them, and four thrones stand tall on the stage that stands above everyone else. Ours are slightly further back than Damon’s. Of the four Lords, he is the highest, and I’m more than proud to support him.

There’s no jealousy between the four of us. It’s our united front that makes us strong. We’d bonded when they tried to shatter us apart. It backfired—our capture was another way to seal us together. I know it messed Xander and Bash up just as much as it did me, but it’s that trauma bond that makes us unbreakable.

Saint Volkov is the first to approach the dais. He’s a new member, only initiated a few weeks back. “Lords, may I request assistance with a business matter?”

“You may,” Damon replies, the formality of it all itching at my skin. I’d been raised for this. My father was the Lord before us, but I’ve never wanted it.

“We had a competitor to our security business move into our area. They’re undercutting our prices and driving us out of the market.”

Damon drums his fingers on the arm of his chair, his tone bored. “Why should I care?”

“It’ll cost us our company. The Volkov family will lose our fortune.” The Saint has let too much emotion enter his voice. Even here, where we are all supposed to work together, the members are constantly looking for weakness to pounce on.

“And you want us to stop them?” Damon sucks on his teeth. “I grant you?—-”

“Wait.” A Saint steps into the aisle, risking his life cutting Damon off. The room goes eerily quiet.

Damon stiffens, his eyes narrow beneath his mask at the man who stepped out of turn. The look would freeze most men but doesn’t stop this one.

“I own the company moving in. It wouldn’t be fair to cut our profits just because they can’t compete.”

“Fair?” Damon tilts his head to the side and leans back, letting himself appear relaxed. “What have any of us done for the sake of fairness?

In a different place, this would be an opportunity to vote, but the Order of Saints isn’t a democracy, and there’s only one opinion that counts.

“Work it out amongst yourselves. Don’t bring it up to me again.”

The man in the aisle smiles like he got exactly what he wanted, and a chill rolls down my spine. I don’t fucking like him.

Volkov’s chin drops to his chest as he makes his way back to his place. His turn is over.

Saint after Saint brings up concerns, and it’s hours before we get out of there. Cool air meets my face as we leave the Vaults into the street. I check my watch. It’s 3:00 a.m., and looking at Damon, I can tell he’s pissed.

My back aches from the hard chair, and I roll my neck, content with the way it cracks.

“I’m really starting to question why we do this,” Bash groans.

Xander nods. “Agreed. You don’t need us. Why do we have to be tortured too?”

My teeth shut with a snap, and all three of my brothers look at me. “What do you think will happen if we stop showing a united front? Was Anthony not proof enough that people are still scheming to take us down?”

Bash looks at his feet. “Sorry. I was just screwing around. You know I stand with you.”

“I know, andtheyknow it too.”

I get into my car, already pulled up for me. It’s late, and I’m exhausted. I should go home, but I don’t turn off at my exit, instead taking the all-too-familiar route to the other side of town.

Scarlet’s house is pitch-black, and not for the first time, I wish I’d set cameras up in her place. After feeling her skin in my hands, I need to see her. Oliver sent me a text hours ago that shewas tucked in at home, but I couldn’t suppress the need to see Scarlet myself.

I pull the car into the alleyway and climb onto the hood before jumping up to reach the fire escape. Her bedroom window is a few feet to the right, just out of reach. Moonlight illuminates her face, relaxed with sleep. She looks so peaceful, and a small part of me hates that I’m about to change that.

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