Page 70 of Bonds of Obsession

He nods, already reaching for his clothes. No questions, no hesitation. Just absolute loyalty and solidarity that I appreciate so fucking much.

Minutes later, we’re pulling out of the driveway and thundering through the mostly-empty streets in perfect formation. Atlas stays tight on my left while Nico and Killian flank my right side. Even with everything ahead of us, there’s something comforting about the rumble of their engines surrounding me and the way we move as one unit through the darkness.

The parking lot at Noctura is mostly empty when we arrive, just a few expensive cars that probably belong to the other Syndicate members. I kill my engine and swing off my bike, my men moving with me in perfect sync as we approach the entrance.

If any of us are worried about what waits inside, it doesn’t show. We’ve faced down worse odds together, and we’re still standing.

The regular entrance to the building looks exactly like it did the first time I came here, understated luxury that serves as a thin veneer for whatever darker purposes Malcolm and his Syndicate use it for. But this time, we’re led through a different door, hidden behind what looks like an ordinary supply closet.

The stairs going down into darkness seem endless. Our footsteps echo off stone walls as we follow our guide deeper underground into what feels like a nuclear bunker that’s been carved out from beneath the sleek building above us. Finally, we step into a cavernous room dominated by a large wooden table that wouldn’t look out of place in a medieval castle.

But instead of a king and his knights, we’re faced with Malcolm and his band of deadly criminals.

The six Syndicate members are already seated, their faces barely lit by the scattered lighting in the room. Each one of them has at least two people standing behind their chair—bodyguards who look just as dangerous as their employers.

Malcolm sits at the head of the table, and his smile when he sees me makes a knot form in my stomach. But I keep my chin high as I walk to the nearest empty seat with my men at my back.

“For fuck’s sake.” The platinum-haired woman two seats down slumps back in her chair, managing to make even that petulant gesture look elegant. “Is this really necessary? Some of us have actual business to attend to in a few hours.”

“Poor baby,” the auburn-haired woman drawls from across the table. “Did someone interrupt your beauty sleep?”

“Careful, Imogen.” Blondie’s smile is razor-sharp. “Your casinos have been looking a bit empty lately. Would be a shame if certain authorities started asking questions about your bookkeeping.”

The auburn-haired woman laughs, her eyes glittering. “Tit for tat, darling. Don’t start a war you can’t win.”

Blondie arches a brow. “Don’t worry. I always win.”

Their banter almost has the cadence of old friends talking shit, but there’s an edge to it that makes it hard to tell if they respect each other or hate each other. Maybe it’s a little of both. I can feel my men shift behind me, responding to the predatory energy filling the space.

“Ladies.” Malcolm’s voice cuts through their back-and-forth. “Need I remind you of your vow to the Syndicate?” His authority fills the room, making even these hardened criminals straighten in their seats. “The same sacred oath we all took when we joined. The one that demands we respond to a votum immediately, regardless of the hour or circumstance.”

“Some of us take those vows more seriously than others,” the man at the opposite end of the table adds smoothly, his dark blond hair falling across his forehead as he shoots a pointed look my way. “Although perhaps our newest member could use a refresher course in Syndicate etiquette.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” I ask, feeling my men tense up behind me.

“Meaning,” the man with long hair and a beard cuts in, “that most people don’t burn through their first votum before the ceremony has even finished.”

His hair is pulled into a man-bun today, rather than loose around his shoulders like it was during the ceremony at the cemetery, but the hairstyle somehow makes him look more dangerous rather than less.

The blonde woman closes her mouth with an audible click, but the look she shoots me could freeze hell itself. Her perfectly manicured nails drum against the table in a slow, steady, precise rhythm. “At least I had the decency to wait a full week before calling in my first favor.”

“And look how well that worked out for you,” the other woman murmurs, examining her own blood-red nails. “Wasn’t that the vote that ended with three of your lieutenants in prison?”

“Enough.” Malcolm’s voice doesn’t rise, but it fills every corner of the room. “We are not here to relitigate past votums or question each other’s methods.” His dark eyes sweep the table. “When any member calls for aid, we respond. That is the foundation of everything we’ve built and everything we are.”

His gaze settles on the blonde woman. “Unless you’d like to formally challenge the legitimacy of tonight’s summons?”

She holds his stare for a long moment before dropping her eyes. “No. My apologies.” The words sound like they’re being dragged out of her. “I will honor my vow, as always.”

“Now then.” Malcolm’s shark-like smile does nothing to warm the temperature in the room. “Given the unconventional nature of your initiation and immediate use of your votum, we never properly introduced you to your new family members.” His emphasis on the word ‘family’ seems to carry a subtle threat.

He starts with the platinum blonde, who lifts her chin as he says her name. “Cassandra Vale runs organized crime operations spanning several states. Everything from narcotics to high-stakes gambling falls under her purview, and she handles it all with ruthless efficiency.”

“You forgot to mention my winning personality,” Cassandra interjects with a cold smile. “And how well I play with others.”

Malcolm continues as if she hadn’t spoken. “Rafael Castillo.” The man with dark blond hair and a charming smile tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Our master of black market operations. If it’s rare, illegal, or supposedly impossible to acquire, Rafael can get it. His network extends from Detroit to Dubai.”

“You flatter me,” Rafael says smoothly. “But seriously. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”

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