The Ritual

“Blake, we finally meet,” he announces, giving me a smirk.

Should I know this man? I mean, I’ve heard Ryat mention him. I know he owns Blackout and has loaned us the apartment above the club, but that’s as far as my knowledge of him goes. I’ve pretty much stayed locked in the apartment these past few days.

“Blake, this is Tyson Crawford. Ty, this is my wife, Blake.”

My heart immediately starts racing at his name. I look up at Ryat with wide eyes, and he frowns down at me.

“Uh…” I clear my throat. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” I say, remembering my manners. “Thank you for letting us stay here.”

Oh my God! Does Sarah know he owns Blackout?

“Of course, anything for Ryat and his wife,” he says, standing from his chair and walking around it. Leaning back against the edge, he crosses his ankles over one another and his arms over his chest. His eyes dismiss me and go to my husband. “It’s all set. I have everyone who is on shift tomorrow up to speed on the situation.”

I frown. What is he talking about?

“Thanks, man. It should go smoothly, but just in case—”

“I understand,” he interrupts Ryat. “You can never be too careful with the one you love.”

“Yeah,” Ryat says through gritted teeth. “Anything on Matt?”

My ears perk up at that. This guy is a Lord, so he has to know Matt.

“No.” His response is clipped. “But there’s already word on the street—two of my guards heard a few guys talking about you taking out his chosen.”

Do you ever feel the air shift? Can you tell the moment that the vibe changes in the room? Because I can at this very second. The air gets thicker, the temperature hotter as the man’s mood shifts with the mention of what Ryat did. Or maybe it’s just me. Afraid of what will happen to my husband when Matt decides to make himself known.

Ryat smiles and lifts his chin a bit. He’s proud of himself. And a sick, twisted part of me is proud of him too. This man will do whatever it fucking takes to not only protect me but also love me. “He can’t hide forever,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, Matt is a piece of shit and deserves to be strung up in the middle of the cathedral where all the Lords can watch him slowly bleed to death,” Tyson states, the darkness in his voice making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

So much so that I reach up and rub the skin like it’s going to help.

“Oh, I’m going to teach him a lesson,” Ryat agrees, his voice just as threatening.

“I want to be there when you do it.” Tyson nods, the corner of his lips pulling back into a sadistic smile.

“Of course,” Ryat agrees.

“Let me know if you need anything else, brother.” Tyson reaches his right hand out, and Ryat shakes it. Tyson pulls him in for a manly handshake/hug and slaps his back with his free hand. “You two get some sleep tonight. You have a busy one tomorrow.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

RYAT

I UNLOCK THE door to the apartment. Stepping aside, I allow her to enter before me, and I shut the door, locking it behind me.

“You okay?” I ask her. It’s been a long night, and she’s had quite a bit to drink.

Nodding, she heads toward the master bedroom.

“Hey.” I follow her. “Talk to me.” I can tell something is on her mind.

“Tyson?” she asks about him, surprising me. Out of all the things that have happened this week and what’s going to happen tomorrow night, I doubted the man we walked in on fucking a woman was the last thing she’d question.

“What about him?” I wonder.

“He’s a Lord?”

Well, that gets my attention. He doesn’t wear his ring. Not anymore. Most don’t in public after graduation. Only when we have special occasions at the house of Lords. Otherwise, we prefer to blend in with whatever crowd were in. “Yes.”

“Is that how you know him?” she asks slowly.

I nod.

“Why does he own this club?”

I’m even more curious as to what she’s getting at. “Why does it matter that he owns Blackout?”

“I thought being a Lord was all about power. This is just a club.”

I nod. “It is. But not all Lords prefer to sit in a high-rise office overlooking a large city. A Lord can be anywhere. Ty chose to go underground and work the dirtier side of things.” He always liked getting filthy. He was ruthless. Top of his year. He could have picked any profession, and Blackout was where he wanted to be. “Owning Blackout has its perks for the Lords,” I assure her.

She licks her lips nervously. “I heard about him … at Barrington.”

I frown. “What did you hear?” It’s not uncommon for others to talk about the Lords. Every man who attends Barrington wants to be a member. Not because of the status you get while in college, but what you get once you graduate and are out in the real world. And those who don’t make it like to run their little mouths about things they think they know. That’s why the Lords have us kill—it’s their insurance policy. If you get kicked out before graduation, you’re not going to go run your mouth about it when they’ve got leverage to bury you. I’ve seen it done before, and those sorry bastards were literally buried alive behind the cathedral.