Page 62 of Freestyle
He nods once, eyes fixed. “Y-yes, sir,” he sputters. The letter is handwritten. Gold wax seal. No insignia.
She’ll know it’s from us.
“Think she’ll come?” I ask Nix, even though I already know the answer.
“She’s ours,” he murmurs. “I think we’ve proven that.”
That hits somewhere between fact and prayer.
We don’t bring outsiders into initiation.Ever. Except when Remy made sure Fallon was there last year, but Rowyn isn’t an outsider, she’s the storm we watched form, the girl we tried to cage until we realized she was never prey at all. She’s rage wrapped in silk. Wounded and weaponized. And tonight, we offer her something no one else can.
A place to be free.
Initiation Night Rules
Every Freshman swimmer is tasked with obtaining a personal piece of clothing from one of the players. The challenge intensifies with masks, as some may be easily startled. They have one hour to locate their chosen target, selected at random, and charm them into willingly parting with their item. Any use of force results in immediate disqualification and a ban from the team, as per my rules. The point of initiation night is to prove their determination and ruthlessness, which is needed in and out of the water.
In the woods past East Hall, the bonfires have already been lit. This year’s pledges are being given their illuminatedmasks, paraded, broken down and built back up again, just like they do every year. This night is a tradition. Legacy. Power.
Ah, initiation night—the clandestine rite of passage where the veil of secrecy is lifted, revealing the hidden truths. It’s a plunge into the unknown, a baptism by fire.
But none of that matters to me like it should. This should be the time for the senior Sharks to shine, but not this year.
Because this year, our focus is singular.
“Alright, gather around you shit heads. Tonight is a make it or break it situation. You either keep your spot on the team, or you’re kicked the hell out. No crying to your daddies. Nothing can save you if you don’t complete the task. This is how initiation works. Anyone want to back out now, be my fucking guest,” I bellow into the darkness.
The team looks around at each other, seeing if someone will walk off the team right now, but no one leaves.Good.
“Masks on, boys,” Phoenix yells as I pull my green mask over my face.
The mask settles into place, snug over my skin, turning the world into green-tinted shadows. Around me the others follow suit, each color a different tier of hierarchy, a different sin worn on the outside.But tonight?Tonight, even hierarchy bends to obsession.
Nix steps to my side, face obscured by his green mask that marks us as this year’s captains. The silence between us isn’t empty, it’s loaded. With tension. With something messier.
“She opens that letter,” I murmur, “and it begins.”
He doesn’t answer, just stares toward the winding trail that leads back to campus. Like he’s already watching her walk down it.
We planned every word in that letter. Crafted it like scripture. It doesn’t beg. It doesn’t demand. It invites her into our world, into our war, into our possession.
And if she accepts?
She won’t walk through those woods alone.
Because the second Rowyn steps into this fire-lit clearing, the game changes.
She’s not an outsider.
She’s the offering.
The blood price.
And this time,no onetouches her unless we say so. And we don’t.
The participants are gathered in clusters around the old library as we approach. My skin tingles with anticipation and I can feel her presence before I see her.
Rowyn.
