Page 32 of Unhinged Obsession

“Blair, your grip is concerning,” Paris whispers, and I immediately let go of her. I keep forgetting it wasn’t just her face that was hurt when she was attacked. She's been pretending she's okay ever since the doctors discharged her from the hospital, smiling when the boys ask how she's feeling. When I say boys, I mean Noah. Ben has been quiet, even for him, and Elijah all but stuck his tongue out at her and told her to suck it up. I’d say that’s a reflection on his character, but I honestly think she would have burst into tears if he’d been anything but bratty toward her. She keeps insisting she's just sore, but every time I catch sight of the bruises still very much prominent across her face, my chest aches all over again. Whoever attacked her didn't just leave marks on her skin. They stole something from her. The easy confidence she always carried has been replaced by quiet glances over her shoulder and hands that shake ever so slightly if she’s not actively talking. I hate that this place keeps taking pieces from the people I love.

The staircase winds farther beneath the cathedral than I ever imagined it could; the air seems to get cooler with every step. Paris knows this place a lot better than I do, so I’m following her lead, just hoping that we don’t get caught. I keep telling myself that I just want to get eyes on Elijah, make sure he’s okay, and then we can leave.

Somewhere below, voices carry through the corridor, low enough that I can't make out the words, but just by the tone I know we've found the meeting. Paris glances back at me, silently asking if I still want to do this, and I nod before either of us can lose our nerve. If Elijah finds out we're here, he'll probably carry both of us back to the dorm over his shoulder, but after last night, I know he loves me enough to not be too mad.

I still can’t believe we not only had sex, but we did it twice before the sun came up, but we also finally told each other those three little words I didn’t think I’d ever have enough courage to say. My heart beats a little faster just remembering how he rasped the words to me over and over, and how I truly felt them. I know without a doubt that Elijah Moretti will never love another person the way he loves me, and the feeling is mutual, to say the least.

We stop behind one of the stone pillars overlooking the chamber below, careful to keep ourselves hidden before slowly peeking around the edge. The sight waiting for us steals the breath from my lungs so completely that I forget to blink. What looks to me like hundreds of candles burn in perfect circles across the black stone floor, their flames reflecting off the polished surface until the entire room seems to shimmer beneath a sea of golden light. Saints dressed in long black ceremonial robes stand in perfect rows facing the center of the chamber, every face hidden behind the same black masks with fluorescent pink Xs glowing where their eyes should be.

Somehow seeing so many of them at the same time makes everything feel infinitely more unsettling. I scan the Saints, knowing Elijah, Noah, and Benjamin are somewhere among them, but the robes hide everything that normally makes them recognizable. I’m certain I’ll be able to pick Elijah out if I watch them long enough.

Paris quietly slips her hand into mine, and I lace our fingers together without taking my eyes off the meeting.

An Elder wearing black robes steps into the center of the candlelight, and every Saint lowers their head in unison. The movement is so perfectly synchronized that it almost doesn't look human.

I feel Paris's fingers tighten around mine as the masked Elder raises both hands and begins to speak. "The Choosing Ceremony is nearly upon us." His voice carries effortlessly through the chamber, calm enough that it almost sounds comforting, which somehow makes every word more unsettling.

"For generations, the Crown has united worthy Saints with women whose bloodlines strengthen the legacy entrusted to us. The Choosing is not courtship. It is not influenced by affection, attraction, or personal desire." His gaze drifts slowly across the rows of masked figures before him. "The Crown chooses. The Society witnesses. The Saints obey."

I’m going to throw up if I listen to much more of this drivel.

"You have spent your lives preparing for the moment your name is called. Some of you have sacrificed friendships. Others have sacrificed love. Those sacrifices are what separate the worthy from the weak, and when the Crown places your chosen in your care, you will accept the bond without question."

My throat tightens because this is all make-believe. Who exactly makes the call on who is paired with who? During the time I spent at Onyx Dominion, it seemed like they were extremely interested in how things were being run with both the Saints and the Sinners.

Beside me, Paris's fingers curl more tightly around mine as the Elder keeps up with his speech, "When the Choosing Ceremony has concluded, and the bonds have been declared before the Society, you have time to acclimate to your new, married life, and then you’ll be given further instructions."

This is so bizarre to watch. Literally not another person makes a sound.

"As our founders decreed," the Elder announces, "the final gathering before the Choosing marks the beginning of your lifelong devotion." He waves his hand out in front of himself in a sweeping motion as if to indicate that everyone within the building should be paying attention to what he’s about to say.

“May you forever be Saints in the eyes of The Society,” The Elder says.

Without missing a beat, the entire room recites the line, "And as Saints may we never forget who we serve." I don’t know how the Moretti triplets made it this far within The Society. They don’t like to be told what to do, and they’re used to using their family’s name to make any inconveniences they have disappear.

I suspect Elijah and Ben made this sacrifice to ensure the safety of Paris and myself, but I’m not sure about Noah.

My eyes continue drifting over the men wearing black robes until one figure near the center catches my attention, and something inside me goes completely still. I shouldn’t be able to tell, but I know it’s him.

Every Saint is hidden beneath the same hood and the same mask, every inch of individuality stripped away until they become pieces of one perfect formation.

But I'd know Elijah Moretti anywhere, and in any lifetime.

As if he’s in my mind, he turns and looks directly where Paris and I are hiding, and his hand curls into a fist at his side. I cover Paris’s mouth with my hand because I can sense she’s about to gasp at his sudden movement. Slowly, he looks away, and I let my hand down. We look at each other, wordlessly trying to decide if we should leave and try to make it back to the dorms before the meeting is over.

I’m nervous about the Choosing Ceremony tonight, not because I don’t trust Elijah with my entire life. He would burn this place to the ground before he'd ever let them force me into something against my will. I am afraid of what will happen to him for simply protecting me. The cruel irony isn't lost on me about what he’s doing right now. He's standing down there, allowing another piece of himself to be claimed because he believes it's the only way to keep me safe, and all I can do is watch.

Another Elder walks up and shows the group a velvet cloth. I have no idea what’s going on until the Elder who gave the speech flips it open to reveal a dagger. My heart lodges somewhere in my throat.

And this is why I trust myself, because I could actually feel it in my bones that something horrible was going to happen at this meeting.

“Are you prepared to prove your loyalty to the Crown?” the Elder holding the dagger asks, and I recognize his voice.

Mr. Moretti, without a doubt. When the group’s response dies down, “There will be a random sacrifice tonight in honor of the Choosing Ceremony that will take place when the clock strikes two.” He moves his head as if he’s surveying the crowd. “Whoever is chosen will accept his fate with the dignity and grace of a Saint.”

I already know where this is going, but it’s still shocking to see it play out in real time. I feel like I can’t move any part of my body, like I’m frozen in place, witnessing my worst nightmare come to life.

Both of the Elders shift through the crowd and stand directly in front of Elijah. It’s Paris this time who covers my mouth. She pinches my nose hard to stop whatever scream I’m about to let out.