Chapter 1

Ishould have told them to fuck off. Every single one of them.

My dad.

My brothers.

For the countless times they've made me feel inferior. For making me stand out in a world in which I didn't even want to be seen in to begin with. Because we all know I don't belong.

For the past twenty years, they've made me feel exactly that. Unworthy, an outsider. In return, I've given them exactly what they were looking for. The youngest son and brother, the spoiled brat with the cocky attitude. The pretender. As a teenager, I would skip class when Dylan, my bodyguard, was too slow to catch up with me, only to head back to my room where I smoked pot and drank beer. I attended the art academy. Got into poetry and philosophy, into painting. That newfound passion brought me into a different circle of people. Those who weren't drawn by money and heritage. Those who'd hopefully accept me for who I was. They did, at first. We'd hang out and I was relieved to be away from home, from the accusatory glares. But it didn't take them long to find out.

Long story short. They chewed me out, spreading venom and implying that I had no idea what true art was because I came from money. It pissed me off and I got into fights, my pride and self-esteem on the line. That's when Dad intervened and took me from the academy, only to dump me at Saint-Laurent Boarding College for boys the following school year. It will be three years this September.

I hate it here. Hate the presumptuous kids that hang around like a bunch of ants, pretending to be something they aren't. No, their parents are rich, and even worse—they are rich through heritage, not because they actually succeeded at doing something remarkable in their lives. Yet they behave like they are kings themselves. Fucking despicable. The only good thing about this sombre castle is the fact that I have a single dorm. No roommates. No hassle. And yeah, assholes, I do love art. So I've used my dorm as my own, small gallery. I've come to love my space. Like the entire architecture of the building, my room is made of high ceilings and countless dips and curves, carved into the walls.

I know of the existence of a brotherhood inside the walls of Saint-Laurent, because my entire family are members. When I started attending boarding school though, my Dad and I agreed that I wouldn't receive an invitation to join their secretive elite club. He didn't think I was cut for their values, and I told him I agreed.

Still, it felt like a rejection. As if he was rejecting me. Over and over again.

I swallow away the sudden bile that has risen in my throat. It's not like I care what Dad thinks.

I shouldn't.

It's not like I care that he didn't want me in his precious "group." I don't care about anything. If I could have it my way, I wouldn't even be here in the first place.

Yet here I am. Because a pathetic part of me wants to prove him wrong. Wants to prove myself wrong. Perhaps I do belong somewhere after all.

As I make my way through the darkness around me, I tell myself it's better to keep off the sand trail, despite it being lit up by a string of beacons in the shape of torches.

The cool breeze brings shivers, or perhaps it's the realization of my predicament that's slowly creeping inside.

Chosen.

That was the exact word those two middle-aged men used when they sat me down in that fancy office in the South Wing a few weeks ago.

"Robin Pinault, vous avez été choisi."

Chosen?Flabbergasted, I'd let my eyes slide from one to the other. I'd never seen these men before, nor had I ever been in this part of Monterrey Castle. The South Wing, as we were told, was for personnel only.

Pourquoi moi?"But…why?" I asked.

"You've been chosen," was the simple reply.

I'd tried to laugh it off—my sarcastic signature, usually enough to keep people at a distance, but they didn't flinch. And then…right when I wanted to tell them to get lost, one of them opened this fancy-looking briefcase and put a document and pen on the table.

And for some inexplicable reason, I immediately knew that this was the secret brotherhood Dad had spoken of. My mind was spinning. If someone else had chosen me, then Dad, nor my brothers were aware of this little encounter. Of the possibilities this little encounter brought…

"But even my own family doesn't want me to join!" The walls I built to shield myself from Dad's rejection and the way it made me feel hurt, trembled and I despised myself for the momentary weakness. I should have just walked away, but I couldn't.

"The highest bidding family wants you," they said, brushing my objection once more aside. I doubt they'd even heard me. "And they get to decide."

Easy as that. The power of hierarchy. My family is powerful, but there are those more powerful than us. Part of me was enraged by its cruel simplicity, although another part of me felt…protected? What a weird sensation. No one had ever stood up for me before against my own dad.

It felt good.

Though the NDA was weird.

I glanced through it twice, cleared my throat while my head tried to understand what the hell I just read. Underlining the exact phrase with my index finger, I looked up.

"You may be subjected to physical violence-with no lasting injuries-as well as being drugged, tied up or even used for sexual pleasure?"

They shrugged. "A mere formality," one of them replied.

My heart hammered in my chest. "So you're saying there's nothing for me to worry about?" This was nonsense and absolutely something I shouldn't agree to.

Another casual brush-off. "I'm saying that this is a respectable fraternity, and no harmful things shall take place." Then he leaned in, capturing my eyes with his own. "Nothing more harmful than the things you've managed to do to yourself anyway. From what I understood, you've used your fair share of drugs in your previous life?"

Reclining back into my chair, I touched my fingers to the centre of my chest where an unfamiliar rage was beginning to bubble. "You've checked out my background? No, I won't—" I got up from my chair, but got pushed back immediately by a pair of hands on my shoulders.

"Sit, and listen."

"No—"

"Background checks are standard protocols at Saint Laurent, Robin," the same man interrupted, his voice nothing more but a controlled boom, his expression blank. "We know everything about you, including the art academy and your group of friends. The fights."

"Ex-friends," I huffed out.

A small smile crept up his lips. "Ex-friends indeed. Now, you are entitled to decline this opportunity, but before you do so, I want you to fully understand what it is you're saying no to."

"I won't be beaten up," I started, but he shushed me with a single wave of his hand.

"If you want a future in which your father and brothers see you for the powerful brother you might become, sign this document. If you want a future in which you decide what you wish to do, sign this document. And you might become our next member."

"There is no freedom in my future," I growled, but one look on his face told me everything.

There would be—if I dared.

So I signed the document. And the moment I left that office, I felt like change was already taking place. I felt different. Okay, I was still my cranky self, but something had changed.

That's when I started receiving the chocolate boxes.

My right foot trips over a stone, bringing me back to reality in an instant as my body stumbles forward. "Merde," I hiss. My hands shoot out, palms digging into the ground to prevent myself from falling on my face. The sudden rustle of leaves in the top of the tree causes me to flinch. When I see the group of bats flapping away, I let out a relieved huff of laughter.

I don't usually come in the forest of Monterrey Castle, which is ironic considering the fact that the entire college is surrounded by endless kilometers of forest. I'm much more of a stay-in-my-room kind of guy. And in the library. And in the tiny as shit art room, that has been specially designed for the likes of me; students who don't want to study Business but have been forced to by their family.

I didn't touch the chocolate, though the sweets looked delicious. Part of me was convinced it was some sort of silent threat from the board to show me that they knew of my past and wanted me to behave within school facilities. It couldn't have anything to do with being chosen, right?

No. That was plain ridiculous. A sweet, treacherous wish.

They were just messing with me. I thought that for the past weeks, carefully avoiding the chocolates, carefully ignoring the sweet dreams that found me in my sleep regardless. Of gentle touches in the shadows and tender whispers in the dark.

And then I received the invitation on my doorstep.

"You, our brother," I hum out loud, half mocking, because for some reason I know the twisted words by heart. "Who carries his heritage with dignity and pride, who walks this world with his head high, searching—not quite finding—to belong. And belong you shall, brother, because today is the day that your life will change.

You are invited to become part of the inevitable, the circle of gold that will keep your spine straight and your dignity intact. To meld into a group of people who are like you, brother, who were once searching but who found—found—what life really means.

Loyalty.

Respect.

Tradition.

Sacrifice.

And tonight your Initiations shall begin.

I should have walked away right from that first meeting, but the chance of winning tonight's games… the chance of beating my old man by becoming part of his little elite club…

If surviving two hours out here in a pitch-dark forest is all I need to do to prove my old man that I can be part of his secretive club of the privileged, then that's what I'll do, despite having swallowed a white pill that may or may not be the legal kind. Sliding my phone out of the pocket of my uniform pants, I quickly check the time. Ten minutes have passed and I'm feeling fine. You see? Easy.

The sand trail behind me is deserted and dark, aside from the decorations they have put out.

Where would the other participants be?

Where would he be? Copper Mask.

I try to wave the thought away, not wanting to think of the guy who stood across from me, but my mind's too slow for my thoughts, getting tangled up inside my head. Oh well. If he thinks he can take me down, he better think again.

The sudden blaring, low sound of a horn makes me jump. It's freaking loud, and goosebumps coat my skin in an instant.

"Putain de merde," I breathe, my heart thumping violently in my chest. "Where the hell did that come from?" Circling the tree trunk with my hands, I push my back flush against the wood, eyes darting wildly around me. The sand trail is still empty.

The horn blows again and I tremble on a whimper.

This wasn't mentioned in that fucking NDA.

What, the use of an instrument? I try to taunt myself, but my brain doesn't receive the message. My mind is slowing down, failing to catch up with the accelerating events that come tumbling past my hiding place without any sense of mercy.

A movement on my right catches my eye. Someone's moving fast, his uniform giving him away. He's a participant. He shouts something, and my eyes turn to slits. What the fuck is happening? My eyes scan the darkness. Fuck! I can"t see.

My back presses deeper against the tree. In the madness of the last two seconds, fear takes hold of me. It feels like tentacles sprouting from the trunk of the tree, gently digging into my bask. I give my head a firm shake. No. This is crazy.

I frown, my eyes narrowing even further, skin rumpling until it's about to tear.

"A horse?" I whisper, staring baffled into the shadows.

There's another blow of the horn that has me glued tighter, if possible, against the tree, followed by a terrifying shout. And then there's only the clacking sound of the rider creeping into my foggy brain, only to transform into a sharp, clattering sound that makes my ears buzz.

"Mon Dieu," I whisper. What exactly have I gotten myself into?