Page 8 of Burn Me

He probably wonders why I’ve forgiven Alistair and Charlie so quickly, but it’s different with them. I expected it from Alistair; he did warn me after all, and Charlie is just... Charlie. But Ben was the one I was falling for on an intellectual level that was beautiful and perfect. It will take me time to get over his actions.

“Let’s just take it one step at a time,” I whisper, not having the courage to spill everything I’m thinking where God only knows who is listening in, ready to spread more rumours.

Ben nods, relief washing over his features. For now, that’s enough. We don’t have to speak of forgiveness or the past. We’re here, together, and that has to count for something.

“I hate to be that guy, but we need to head back to the manor,” his words slice through the silence that had settled around us. His gaze is serious, and it makes my stomach lurch.

“Why?” I frown, my mind racing with possibilities that could require such urgency.

“We need a meeting.” He doesn’t elaborate.

Charlie’s hand finds mine again, his touch reassuring, grounding. “Let’s go,” he says.

There’s a steel edge to his voice that tells me he’s already slipping into his role, and fear tremors through me.

I nod, rising with the men and letting Charlie guide me away from the seclusion of our quiet corner on campus. His grip is firm but gentle, and I’m grateful for the warmth of his presence. As we walk, I sense eyes on us, hear the whispers that follow in our wake. They’re talking about us, about the Cardinals, about the secrets that cling to the names like shadows.

But right now, I don’t care. Let them talk. Let them guess and gossip. My mind is on the meeting ahead and why it’s so important I miss class and on the unknowns that wait for us at KnightsGate Manor. Charlie squeezes my hand, a silent message of solidarity, and I squeeze back.

The path to the manor is familiar, yet it feels different today. The trees that line the way seem to watch us pass, their leaves rustling with the weight of untold stories. We don’t speak; there’s nothing to say that can chase away the unease that’s settled in my gut.

KnightsGate Manor looms before us, its ivy-clad walls representing centuries of history. After Alistair’s talk, I’ve come to realise it’s a part of me, this place, just as much as the bloodline I was born into. Mymother’sbloodline. I still can’t quite process that. But not for the first time, I wish I could shed my legacy like a second skin, be free of the burdens it brings.

“Ever? You okay, love?” Charlie’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I look up at him, trying to read his expression.

He nods, and as Ben opens the grand front doors, we step through the entrance of the manor, the door closing behind us with a sound that feels like finality. Ahead lies a conversation Iknow nothing about and cannot prepare for, so all I can do is move forward and face it.

Ben leads us into the study. The door shuts behind us, the click of the lock like a trigger for my racing thoughts. Damien is leaning against the bookcase with an unreadable look plastered across his face. Alistair stands by the fireplace, every inch the brooding leader.

“What’s this about?” Alistair asks, eyes on mine and Charlie’s clasped hands.

I try to let go, but Charlie tightens his hold.

“Consequences,” Ben says sharply, drawing all eyes to him.

I cast my glance back to Damien. Something about his silence, his noticeable absence, gnaws at me. Was our kiss and the way he let his guard down with me just a ruse to draw me into their web of secrets?

“The rumours we heard a few weeks back have been founded,” Ben continues. “Stanley had started gathering a sect, recruiting from our own ranks as well as the fringes.”

“That fucker,” Alistair hisses. “I knew something was coming. I fucking knew it.”

Damien pushes off from the bookshelf, his movements are fluid but tense. He doesn’t look at me, and that sends a pang through my chest.

What are you thinking, Damien?

Do you even care at all?

Stanley’s throat.

Alistair’s blade.

I can’t shake the images, the sounds—the finality of it all. The room feels like it’s closing in on me, walls inching closer with every breath. It’s too much. Robbie’s and Eric’s faces flash through my mind, their lives snuffed out without a second thought.

Gasping for breath, I yank my hand out of Charlie’s and press it to my chest.

“Hey,” Alistair is quick to move in front of me, his hand grips mine, tight enough to draw the focus to him, jarring against the chaos in my head. “You need to stay with us. Remember what we talked about? This is part of the bigger picture.”

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