14. Learn Your Lesson

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Learn Your Lesson

I 'm standing on a random corner on campus, one that's on the very edge. Campus is on one side of me. The other contains a strip mall with a Chinese restaurant and a frozen yogurt shop. They both do a brisk trade in student orders.

My ass throbs from the spanking. I should be outraged that Stratford thinks he can exert such control over me. The secret truth is that I've been aching with wetness ever since. He unlocked something inside me.

Something that wants to be hit over and over again.

Someone who wants to be protected at any cost, even violence.

It's not a healthy part of me, but then, I already knew I wasn't healthy. The deep research I've done into complex PTSD brought that into stark reality.

The evening air blows warm, but I still feel cold.

I had to jump through many hoops to get this far. Their invitations can't have anything as straightforward as a time and place. No, I had to scan a code that told me where to find a slip of paper under the third stepping stone of the art department's sculpture garden. The current task was to take a selfie at this exact intersection and send it to an unlisted number.

A sleek black limousine pulls up to the curb.

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. The window rolls down, revealing the darkened interior. No one steps out to greet me. With a deep breath, I open the door and peer inside. The back of the limo is empty, save for a dark-tinted screen separating me from the driver.

A shiver runs down my spine, but I climb inside and close the door behind me. I sink into the plush leather seats despite the knot of anxiety in my stomach. Does every member of the Society get their own little scavenger hunt? Their own private limo?

It seems excessive, but then I suppose they love to be extra.

I have no idea where we're going. Or what's going to happen when we get there. The thought of being buried alive, or worse, digging up a potential corpse, sends a shudder through me. Though the Society would never be so gauche as to repeat themselves. Whatever I'm about to face will be new but no less perilous.

The limo turns a corner, and I catch a glimpse of the campus fading into the distance. My heart beats faster, the reality of my situation sinking in.

I'm at their mercy now.

There's no turning back.

The drive seems to last forever.

And it's over too soon, at the same time.

We pull up at some kind of mansion, like a massive antebellum plantation. It's surrounded by massive trees, their arms as thick as the most trunks. Someone steps out from the mansion and opens the door.

I step out, my heels wobbly on the cobblestone driveway. "Hi."

The man has the posture and the distant expression of a butler. "Ms. Hill," he greets me with a nod, his voice as crisp as the autumn air. "Follow me."

We cross the threshold of the mansion, the grandeur of the interior matching the outside. This opulence might as well be a far-away planet. It's nothing I've ever experienced before. The butler leads me to a door at the back of the mansion, his steps echoing through the cavernous entrance hall.

He opens an ornate door and gestures for me to enter.

There's a stairwell and then darkness. A basement.

Of course it's in the basement.

As I descend, the door closes behind me with an ominous thud. The sound of a lock turning sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Shit.

Voices hum somewhere ahead of me. At least I'm in the right place and not some random guy's basement. The sounds grow louder as I approach them in an underground labyrinth. I emerge into a vast, open space that's a far cry from any basement I've ever seen. These aren't walls built by man. They're left as nature made them. Cavern walls made smooth by water and eons.

Rich draperies adorn the stone walls in dark jewel tones. The room is filled with people, their chatter and laughter creating a disorienting soundscape. Some of them are dressed like you'd see at a high-end nightclub, in suits and short dresses. That's normal enough. They're not the terrifying part .

Because others are wearing hooded robes.

A shiver runs down my spine. The people in robes stand apart from the rest of the crowd, their faces hidden by shadows. Is that why they're wearing the robes, to hide their identities? Or is it something even more sinister, some kind of ritualistic costume?

The air runs thick with the scent of incense and candle wax. Flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the walls. It doesn't feel real, actually. It's like I've walked into a place where the lines between reality and fiction blur.

That's what the Society aims to do, after all.

Not to read Shakespeare, but to live it.

A few heads turn in my direction, their eyes assessing me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. A man detaches himself from the group of robed figures, his movements fluid and graceful despite the heavy fabric that cloaks his body.

He approaches me, his face still hidden in the shadows of his hood. As he draws closer, I can make out the contours of his features, the sharp line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. There's an air of authority about him, a sense of power that's both intimidating and strangely compelling.

"Welcome, Anne Elizabeth Hill," he says, his voice a low purr that makes me shudder. "We've been expecting you."

He says my name with a familiarity that feels like intimacy. "You might know my name," I say, my voice somehow steady, "but I don't know yours."

"I am Luca Andini, businessman, alumnus of Tanglewood University and the president of the Society. And of course, a devotee of the bard."

"If you're not a student anymore, then how can you still be a member of a college society?"

His eyes gleam with amused condescension. "The president," he says, correcting me. "Membership in the Shakespeare Society lasts a lifetime."

I don't like this guy, not his smooth words or his disdainful smile. "So you want to come back and party with co-eds? Creepy."

The corner of his lip lifts slightly, the barest hint of a sneer. "Parties? Games? Stunts? Those are only the entrance, the front porch. Once you get inside, you know that it's really about power."

"Only someone with no power gets off on lording over college kids."

His body tenses, and for a moment, my blood races. It feels like he might lash out physically, actually strike me. With what seems like a great effort, he relaxes. "My power rules over everyone. Over the humanities department. Over the university. Over Tanglewood City itself."

The implications of his words hang heavy in the air between us.

The Society isn't just a group of privileged students engaging in reckless hedonism. It's something much larger, much more sinister. The realization sends a cold shiver down my spine, but I force myself to hold his gaze, to not give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

I stand my ground, facing down the man who embodies the Society's hidden power, and I refuse to back down. "How would you control the city?"

Luca Andini watches me, his gaze sharp and assessing. "You'll see it for yourself soon enough, child."

"Don't call me child." The confidence in my voice masks a deepening fear. The Society's reach extends far beyond the ivy-covered walls of the university. They have their fingers in the very fabric of the city, wielding influence and authority in ways I'm only just beginning to understand.

"But you are a child. And you know my child." He waves a hand.

The crowd parts, and Matteo strides forward with the confidence of someone who's been bred for power and privilege. On campus he looks cocky and hot. But dressed in a suit that molds to his muscular frame, he exudes a menacing aura that sends a chill down my spine.

Matteo's icy gaze meets mine, and I see a flicker of something—surprise, curiosity, maybe even a hint of grudging concern. It's quickly masked by the same disdain he's always shown me. In front of his father, he's the picture of filial obedience, but there's an undercurrent of tension between them.

"I must prepare for tonight's entertainment," Luca says, leaving.

The moment he's out of earshot, Matteo's demeanor shifts. The hostility is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it's tempered now, tinged with something that looks a lot like worry. "Why the fuck did you come tonight?" he hisses, his blue eyes boring into mine.

I don't trust him even a little bit, so no way am I going to tell him my real purpose. "I got an invitation," I say. "I thought it might be fun."

"The Society isn't about having a good time," he says, his tone harsh.

That's an understatement. "Yeah, I'm getting that."

"You have no idea what you're getting into." He steps closer, his voice low and urgent. "It's not safe for you here. I tried to warn you away."

The memory flashes of him talking shit about my Tempest Prize entry in the Mayfair dorm. "Is that what you were trying to do?" I don't bother trying to hide my skepticism. "You should be clearer next time, because all it sounded like was you being an asshole."

Matteo runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. "I can't protect you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

A shiver runs through me.

Luca's voice rings out, commanding and filled with an unsettling fervor. "Esteemed members, excellent Shakespeareans, my erudite friends," he says, his gaze sweeping over the assembled throng.

Everyone gathers around a long, ornate table that dominates the room, the surface gleaming. The single chair sits at its head, adorned almost like a throne.

"We stand on the precipice of a new era, one where we will no longer remain in the shadows…no matter how much enjoyment we've found there." He pauses, and a ripple of self-congratulatory chuckles runs through the crowd. "Now we claim what's rightfully ours."

A cheer rolls up, echoing off the cavern walls.

I scan the faces around me, recognizing a few from the night I first stumbled upon the Society's revelries. I have no friends here. I'm glad Tyler didn't come, but I'm also painfully aware of how alone I am.

My gaze drifts over the robed figures standing off to the side, their identities obscured by their hoods. There's a sense of familiarity about one of them, a certain set of the shoulders that tugs at my memory.

As the figure shifts, a sliver of their face is revealed—full lips in red, a particular tilt of chin. My heart skips a beat. Professor Thorne. What's she doing here? She didn't even go to school here.

Matteo stands beside his father, his expression inscrutable. There's a tension in his posture, a rigidness that belies his calm exterior.

The applause fades, and Luca gestures towards the table with its lone chair. "Let us begin," he says, his voice ringing with authority.

The crowd parts, and a hush falls over the room as Luca makes his way to the head of the table. He settles into the chair with an air of regality, his eyes scanning the room with a predatory intensity.

Matteo hesitates for a moment, his gaze meeting mine across the room. There's a message in his eyes, a silent plea that I can't quite decipher. And then he steps forward, his movements fluid and deliberate as he approaches his father.

I hold my breath, watching as Matteo leans down to whisper in Luca's ear. The words are lost to me, but the look on Luca's face is one of satisfaction, as though he's just been given a gift he's long been anticipating.

As Matteo steps back, Luca's gaze finds mine once again. "Anne Elizabeth Hill," he calls out, his voice echoing through the silence. "Step forward."

Me? Why do they need me?

There have to be fifty, maybe even a hundred people in this place. I'm no one special. Which means that singling me out can't be a good thing. I take a tentative step backward, but people crowd behind me, forming a human chain.

Faces watch from the other side, some grinning with anticipation, others with a detached curiosity that's almost more terrifying than open hostility.

Luca's eyes lock on mine, gleaming with an unholy excitement.

I square my shoulders, lifting my chin in a vain attempt to project an image of defiance. I won't give Luca the satisfaction of seeing my fear, even if my insides are quivering like jelly. I'm acutely aware of the weight of the room's attention, the oppressive silence that hangs over the assembly like a shroud.

"What do you want with me?"

Luca's lips curl into a cold, cruel smile. "You thought we didn't know," he says, his voice carrying a note of darkness that sends a shiver of dread coursing down my spine. "You thought you could fool us. Expose us. And now, you will face the consequences of your actions."

My breath hitches in my throat as he leans back in his chair, the very picture of a monarch surveying his realm. How did he know? "What are you talking about?" The bluff sounds shaky. "I came hoping for free drinks."

"Strip," he says, the word like a knife.

"Are you insane?"

"Take off your clothes. Tonight you're going to be punished for your sins against the Society. You'll learn your lesson… And I'll enjoy teaching it."

A gasp escapes before I can stop it. "How dare you?"

A murmur runs through the crowd, a mixture of titillation and disapproval that makes my skin crawl. Their eyes strip me bare, and I have to fight the urge to wrap my arms around myself in futile armor.

Luca's smile never wavers, but there's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before. "You will do as you're told," he says, his voice like ice. "Or this will become harder on you."

The cavernous walls close in around me. Panic rises within me. I'm running out of space to breathe.

My eyes dart to the figure in the hooded robe, the one whose presence here fills me with a sense of foreboding. The curve of her shadowed red lips is unmistakable, a satisfied smile that chills me to the bone. Professor Thorne. Her betrayal cuts deeper than I could have imagined, twisting the knife of my fear until it threatens to split me wide open.

"You're sick," I hiss, my words laced with a mix of fear and defiance. "All of you."

Luca merely laughs. "Keep talking," he says, his gaze raking over me with open contempt. "You'll pay for every ounce of disrespect."

"I'll scream," I warn, my voice shaking with the effort it takes to keep it steady. "I'll fight you with everything I have."

"Good," he says, his voice unnaturally calm. "I enjoy a good struggle. It's healthy for a man to hold down a woman every so often, though with my looks and my power I do rarely have the opportunity."

My heart thrashes like a wild animal.

He's a hunter, the kind that toys with their prey.

The room is deathly silent now, the tension thick. Everyone's holding their breath, waiting for me to break. But I won't give them the satisfaction. I won't let them see my fear. They can do anything to my body, but they can't touch my soul.

I lift my chin. "Go to hell."

Luca's smile fades, replaced by a cold, calculating stare that sends a shiver of dread down my spine. "Very well," he says, his voice as icy as the grave. "Then you leave us no choice."

The words have barely left his lips when the room explodes into action. So many hands grip my arms, their fingers biting into my flesh as they drag me towards the center of the room. I struggle against their hold, kicking and screaming with all my might, but it's no use. They're too strong, too determined.

I'm powerless to stop them as they force me to my knees, their cruel laughter ringing in my ears as they leer at me, reveling in my humiliation. I feel a fresh surge of panic as they begin to pull at my clothes, their rough hands tearing at the fabric in their haste to carry out Luca's orders.

"Stop!" I cry out, my voice hoarse with fear and outrage. "Don't! Get off me."

They're beyond mercy, driven by a lust for power and a sick desire to dominate and humiliate. The sound of tearing fills the room, and then I'm naked.

I close my eyes, bracing myself for the ordeal to come.

It's a strange sensation, being mauled, being ripped apart. It's almost a surprise to find myself still in one piece as they shove me onto the table. Shivers overtake me, despite my resolve for them not to see my fear.

There's no escape, no salvation. I'm at the mercy of these monsters, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

I cast a desperate glance around the room, my eyes pleading for help, for mercy, for anything that might deliver me from this nightmare. My gaze lands on Matteo, and for a fleeting moment, I see a flicker of something—pity? Regret?—in his eyes. But then he turns away, his jaw set in a hard line as he stares resolutely at the floor. He won't meet my eyes, won't acknowledge the terrified girl lying exposed on the table before him. He's as lost to me as the rest of them.

I'm alone in this, truly alone.

Luca approaches, his robe parting to reveal the unmistakable bulge of his arousal. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of terror coursing through my veins. It's not just the prospect of being violated that terrifies me; it's the realization that my fear is a source of pleasure for him. He's aroused by my suffering, turned on by my helplessness.

"Behave," he murmurs, his voice a silky purr that belies the darkness in his eyes, "and you might just make it through the night. You might even become one of us once you've suffered enough. Pain is an excellent teacher."

The way he says that makes me shudder. What did he teach his son? I can't feel sorry for Matteo, not when Luca trails up my leg, the touch of his fingers like ice against my skin.

I recoil from his touch even as I'm powerless to stop him.

My mind races with panic, with fear, I'm trapped.

He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. "You're going to learn, Anne," he whispers, his voice filled with a dark promise that makes my blood run cold. "You're going to learn what it means to challenge the Society. And by the time I'm through with you, you'll beg to join us. You'll swear fealty to me if it's the last thing you do."

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on my body. I could die. That's a truth I can't ignore. No one would even find my body. My parents wouldn't even miss me.

Luca slaps my breast, making me jump.

Tears prick my eyes. Sobs build in my throat. I'm losing the battle, surrendering to the hopelessness. But then, from somewhere deep inside, a spark of defiance flares to life. I may be at their mercy now, but I won't go down without a fight.

I grit my teeth and lash out with a kick. It's not very powerful, probably not graceful, but it lands on Luca's erection. Despite its thick erection it feels sickeningly soft beneath my heel.

Luca gives a hoarse shout and goes down. I don't get the satisfaction of watching him fall as arms come to contain me, to drag me back. Someone has me in a chokehold while other hands hold my arms, my legs. Even more strike hard, painful, stinging blows on my body, fast retribution. I'm running out of air.

Some of the people in robes help Luca to his feet. He looks deranged now, panting with pain, a grimace on his face. "You are going to regret that. Not right away. Slowly. After I fuck you, I'm going to pass you around. First with Matteo. Then with everyone else. And when your filthy cunt is too big and bloody we'll switch to your ass. And when you're too disgusting to fuck we'll use you to piss on."

I'm terrified and hurting, but all of it palls compared to my rage. I have nothing left to lose. "I must have forgotten which sonnet that was."

He's recovering enough that he doesn't look as pale. He steps forward, saying. "Spread her. Wider. I want to see the cunt I'm going to ruin."