Page 63 of Fractured Reign (Gravestone Elite 3)

Not as long as Cade is still out there. Even if he isn’t really here, he’s like a dark cloud hanging over us. A storm on the horizon about to hit.

Gingerly sliding out from under Bexley’s arm, I push back the covers and swing my legs over the bed. Everything is hazy still, my limbs heavy and my thoughts sludgy. Bexley is frowning, even in his sleep, as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

I guess between me and his new role within the Electi, he is.

With one more lingering look, I grab a cardigan and slip out of the room, careful not to make a sound. The house is silent as I tiptoe downstairs. My body aches, my throat dry and scratchy. Going into the kitchen, I make a beeline for the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water. The cool liquid feels like heaven as it slides down my throat, and I lean back against the counter, my eyes instinctively going to the patio doors overlooking the lawns. It’s dawn, the fall sun just breaking through the thick clouds. A chill zips up my spine as my gaze moves over the tree line… but to my relief, there’s nothing.

Discarding the bottle of water, I switch on the coffee maker. Memories of last night are fuzzy. I remember dancing, watching Bexley as he schmoozed with Phillip and his associates. I remember feeling a lick of jealousy, of dejection. Then I danced with Brandon and freaked-out. But I can’t quite remember what happened. It’s as if someone has shrouded those memories in thick smoke. I know something bad happened. I can feel it, but I can’t see it.

I thought Cade was there, that I can remember. But he’s always with me, lurking on the edges of my reality.

My eyes shutter and I inhale a sharp breath. When I open them again, something flickers in the corner of my mind. Abandoning the coffee, I rush out of the kitchen and pad down the hall, urgency filling my veins. The house is still quiet, nothing but the steady beat of my heart filling my ears as I hurry toward the door at the end of the hall. I’d forgotten all about the locked room in the house… until now.

Testing the handle, I’m hardly surprised to find it locked.Think, Mia. Think.An idea slams into me and I take off, hurrying upstairs, careful not to make a sound. I tiptoe down the hall, my heart racing in my chest as I reach Cade’s room. Twisting the handle, I slip inside and close the door behind me. Fear wraps around my throat and I force myself to take small even breaths as I fight against the urge to run.

I scan the room, shuddering when my eyes graze the bed sitting proudly in the center. But I didn’t come here to reminisce. I came here to find something.Where would I keep it?My eyes flit from the dresser to the desk, landing on a small leather box. Too easy, I tell myself, but I make for it anyway. Bitter disappointment clings to me as I flip the lid and find nothing but an array of cufflinks. I pull out the drawer, rummaging through Cade’s things, but there’s nothing that resembles a key.

Dammit.

Moving over to the dresser, I open the top drawer and reach inside, feeling between Cade’s clothes for any sign of… bingo. My fingers graze something smooth and I pluck out the small box. Blood roars in my ears as I flip the lid open and a small silver key stares back at me.

Leaving everything as I found it, I quietly exit Cade’s room and make my way back down to the locked door. Crouching down, I jam the key into the hole and give it a little wiggle. It slides into place, the door clicks open, and I slip inside.

It’s an office of some sort. A big oak desk fills one corner, matching bookshelves lining the walls. There’s a leather wingback chair facing the desk and sideboard perpendicular to it. The air feels musty, as if it’s been trapped inside for too long with nowhere to go.

The sun pours in through the blinds, enough that I can see without turning on the light. Old musty textbooks line the shelves much like the ones in the town hall archives and in my father’s office.

Many are labelled with Roman numerals on the spines but no titles hinting at what lies inside. I pull one out, almost choking on the cloud of dust that comes with it. “The Odyssey,” I say, running my hands over the embossed title. It’s a collector’s edition, old and worn but still beautiful. Sliding it back in its place, I choose the next one.The Iliad.

I can’t imagine Cade has a penchant for ancient Greek poetry, but perhaps the men who came before him did. His father. And his before that.

Returning the book to its rightful place, I move onto the lower shelves. A photograph catches my eye, and I pluck the frame up, studying it.

“Gregory Kingsley,” I whisper. There’s no mistaking Cade’s father standing with a group of young men outside Gravestone Hall. Same piercing stare and thin smile. I pick out a younger Marcus Easton and Phillip Cargill. Marcus is smiling at something someone off camera is saying. I get the impression he doesn’t smile much anymore.

I wonder what happened to them, shuddering at the answer.

They became Quinctus.

And one day, Bexley, Alex, Brandon, and Tim will do the same.

A world dominated by misogyny and power. An organization full of dark deeds and depravity.

People aren’t born bad. They’re shaped by their environment, by their childhood and the people around them. Cade is his father’s son. It’s why Phillip had my father kill him. Because he was a threat to everything Quinctus wants to achieve. Because he took it too far…

Just like Cade.

I walk around the desk and sit down, staring at the room, imagining what it must be like to step into the shoes of an Electi. To be initiated and tested and broken… until you reemerge as someone new. Someone capable of exerting their power, of hurting others… of killing without thought.

I’ve watched the others. Brandon, Channing, Alex, even Tim. They obey, they execute their roles as instructed. But not like Cade.

He thrived on it. He lived for it.

He got off on it.

That kind of malice and cruelty isn’t just there inside someone… it’s ingrained, instilled and nurtured.

It’s mirrored.

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