Page 91 of King of the Cage

“Open up, wee one… I know you want it; the body doesn’t lie.” His gaze trailed from my mouth, down my body.

I was swathed in a T-shirt, a thick plaid flannel, and jeans — all his clothes. Not a single thing came close to fitting, but he had ripped my poor dress to pieces. I didn’t even have a shred of underwear to sew together.

I bit the bacon, only just missing his fingers as he pulled them nimbly away from my teeth.

He chuckled, and I turned my attention to the food. Well, there was no point in it going to waste when I was damned hungry.

For the next while, we ate in near perfect silence. The sounds of the pub drifted over us. People chatting, local news on in the background, the door swinging open and closed regularly. The usual hubbub of a busy community. It wasn’t like any criminal family I’d ever known. The De Sanctis family wasn’t like this. There was an order to follow. More formality. That appeared to be sorely lacking in the O’Connor stronghold.

But strangely, I didn’t hate it.

“Now, as much as it turns me on to see you wearing my clothes, we need to get you dressed normally if I’m supposed to keep my hands off you in public.”

I put down my fork, stuffed. I’d made a very good attempt at the plate, though. I was proud of myself.

“You done?” Bran drew my plate toward him and tucked into the rest.

“What do you think the second test is?” I asked, remembering how The Sentinel had instructed Bran to come back tonight for the next part of his initiation into The Enclave. “According to my now dead source, it should be something about truth…” Bran sighed, finishing off the rest of the meal and sitting back.

“How will you pass it?” I felt sick at the thought.

Bran shrugged. “Let’s worry about that when it happens. I could be dead before this evening, after all.”

Right.

25

BRAN

Itook Giada’s hand as we walked into a room in The Tartarus hotel and were met with the same tableau from the other night. Black-cloaked freaks wearing masks.

She jerked, surprised by the sudden contact. She was a solitary creature, skittish about physical affection. So painfully unused to it. I pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“Here we fucking go,” I murmured to my wife and summoned a grin for her.

She was nervous; I could feel it in the way her pulse thudded hard, and her hand was clammy.

“Brandon O’Connor, you have chosen to endure the second test,” The Sentinel intoned.

He stood before a small table, that damn plague doctor mask staring right into my soul.

“Do you consent to whatever The Enclave prepares for your test?”

I nodded. “Go nuts. I’m ready.”

Giada squeezed my hand and moved to the side. Security escorted me to a table set up in the front. The crowd of Enclave members turned and followed me with their heads as I strode through them. A quick glance reassured me that Giada was sitting at the edge of the festivities, her gaze fixed on me.

I stopped in front of the table and took in the setup.

A lie detector. How original.

I sat and let them strap me up.

“Is your name Brandon O’Connor?”

“Last time I checked,” I drawled. I set my feet firmly on the floor and steadied myself.

“Answer yes or no,” The Sentinel instructed me.

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