The Sacrifice: A Dark Revenge Romance

Three years ago

I stand tucked back behind the tree line, staring ahead at the family. I wasn’t allowed to come, but I slipped the security guy watching the gate a few hundred-dollar bills, and he let me enter the cemetery.

Whitney’s favorite color was pink, and they got her a white casket. She had a fear of burning to death, and they cremated her. Not sure why they chose to do a traditional funeral and bury her ashes in a twenty-thousand-dollar box, but I didn’t have a say.

I feel someone come up next to me and I look over to see Ryat by my side, hands in his slacks and eyes on the service. “I thought I’d find you here,” he says softly. He’s a freshman at Barrington this year while I’m a senior. It’s his first year of initiation, and he’s become a close friend.

My eyes look ahead, and I watch the service come to an end. The family kept it small. Only immediate family were allowed to attend. Which again, I find odd. Whitney was loved by many. She had a lot of friends at Barrington. Everyone who loved her should have been given the chance to say goodbye.

“You didn’t have to come,” I say.

“I know.”

Her mother hasn’t quit sobbing, and her sister, well, I’m surprised she’s even able to walk. Her older brother is holding her up. Their father hasn’t shed a tear. His children mean nothing to him. They are something to be used. A way to grow his own wealth and power.

I’ll make sure he remembers who I am.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Ryat asks softly, knowing what I’m going to do.

“It’s done,” I answer. I’ve made up my mind, and I’m not going to change it.

Her father helps her mother over to the black limo, and I watch it drive off. My eyes go back to the burial site, and I see Laikyn now on her knees in her black dress. I can hear her cries over the howling wind in the trees. Miller rubs her back, trying to help her up, but he too decides to kneel next to her.

If I had a heart, I’d say it feels for them. But I don’t. I was raised to believe I live for the Lords. But they’ve failed me, making me even colder than they already taught me to be.

My cell vibrates, and I pull it out of my pocket to see it’s my father. “Hello?” I answer, turning my back to them and walking toward my car.

“What in the fuck have you done?” he demands.

Guess he got word of my career change. “What I needed to do,” I answer simply.

“Tyson,” he growls my name. “You have a responsibility to this family. You cannot give it up for fucking pussy.” His voice rises to the point he’s screaming at me.

“I don’t expect you to understand.” He doesn’t love my mother. The Lords have always come first to him. His side pieces a close second. He thinks I fell in love with Whitney and it made me weak. He has no clue what I did and didn’t do, or how I feel.

Letting out an aggravated sigh, he lowers his voice. “What happened to Whitney was unfortunate, Son. But you don’t need to give up your life as well.” He pauses. “It won’t bring her back.”

A sob gets my attention, and I turn around to see Miller stand, picking up Laikyn and carrying her off to their Town Car. She clings to him, her cries growing louder the farther he walks away from the casket. “I don’t … want to leave her,” Laikyn sobs.

“She’s gone, Lake,” he tells her, placing her in the car. The sound of her sobs are no longer heard once he shuts the car door.

“I’ve made up my mind,” I say to my father, watching them drive off.

“Ty—”

I hang up on him and shut off my cell, not in the mood to hear his opinion about how I should live my life. That’s all I’ve ever done. I was raised knowing I would one day serve the Lords. I’ve devoted the past four years to them. That has changed.

While attending Barrington University, you can be stripped of your title at any time while going through initiations. But once you’re branded, the only way out is death.

I was raised to believe that being a Lord is something special—nothing but endless wealth and power. Now I’m realizing that they are their own kind of prison, collecting us as prisoners. They chain us to them with no escape.

I took their offer and then made one of my own that they couldn’t refuse. It’s a different level of hell, but I have all the control. I’m the devil now and will choose who burns.

LAIKYN

I’m looking at myself in the mirror after my father leaves me, making sure tears haven’t ruined my makeup. I don’t understand. Why me? Why now? Why today?

I was promised to Luke. What could have changed that he would give me over to Tyson? Why would the Lords allow this?

Stepping closer to the mirror, I tilt my head back and look at the choker he placed around my neck. It’s so tight that I can’t even fit my finger between it and my skin. I can feel my pulse throbbing against it.

I’m powerless. As a Lady, I don’t have any say, to begin with, but for the Lords to make such a change at the last minute? I’m fucking doomed. It’s like a plane falling from the sky. Nothing can be done. I have no parachute. No escape plan.

If I run, they’ll find me. If for some reason they don’t, my family will pay the price. I refuse to let anyone else die because of Tyson. He’s taken enough from our family already.

The door opens, and my brother steps into the room. “I’m sorry, sis. I don’t know what’s going on. Dad said—”

“It’s fine.” I straighten my shoulders. I will not cry in front of these elitist assholes. I won’t give Tyson the satisfaction of letting the world see how much he terrifies me. I’ll wait until I’m alone.

He runs a hand through his dark hair nervously. “Lake.”

“I’m ready,” I say, turning to face him. The longer I wait, the longer Tyson has to get angry. After I say my vows, he’ll get me to himself. And I don’t want to give him anymore reasons to beat me.

Miller’s mouth is set in a hard line as his eyes drop to the choker and then to the floor to look at the scattered pearls. It was the only object to remind me of who I was. Tyson’s already making me what he wants me to be—his slave. A piece of meat to fuck and torment.

“Let’s go.” I grab the silk fabric in my hands, lifting it off the floor as my brother gathers the long train, and walk out of the room with him following behind me. We’re on the second floor of the Cathedral. I walk over to the old railing that looks like if I pushed too hard, I’d fall to my death, which, right now, doesn’t sound so bad. My luck, I’d just break a leg or something.

The high stained glass windows remind me of a bird cage. Just another way for the Lords to trap you. Across the way, on the second-story loft, is where the vow ceremonies are performed for chosen ones. I was never allowed to be one. My sister was. She was Tyson’s chosen. After she was killed, my parents set up my marriage to Luke. I was to be an offering to a Lord. The last Minson female in my family to bring honor to our name.

It’s all bullshit.

It’s sex trafficking at its finest, without money being transferred. Well, not physical money, but funds are still involved in a way. Families are forged, companies combined, and the Lords involved just get richer. More powerful.

Wrapping my hands around the balcony, I look down to the first floor. Rows and rows of pews are full of Lords. All dressed in their black cloaks with their hoods up and masks on. Only my parents, my brother, and the wedding party are allowed to show their faces today. Ladies aren’t even invited. And I have no bridesmaids. When you’re kept prisoner in your own house, you aren’t given the opportunity to make friends. Even if I had any, Luke would have had to approve them, and I know he wouldn’t have. Tyson will likely be much the same.

The storm outside makes the place darker than it would normally be this time of day thanks to the gray clouds and rain falling from above us.

A white-carpeted runway runs the long length of the aisle. It signifies my innocence. White as a winter snow. The rest of the inside is lit up with red lights, giving the place a bloody feel. It’s part of our marriage oath. I have to bleed for him. And he will bleed for me.

I might give my life over to him in front of all these people, but I won’t mean it. He has to know that, right? Because I know he sure as fuck won’t. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even fucking know me. Not like he knew Whitney.

My eyes move to the front of the altar and see a set of baby-blue eyes already staring up at me. Even from this far away I can see him as clear as day. He stands there, his arms behind his back, legs wide and shoulders pulled back. A look of malicious intent covers his hard features.

My father gave me an ultimatum—marry Tyson or else. The else being far worse than becoming Tyson’s wife, I’m sure.

“Lake?” Miller gets my attention from behind me.

I turn to look at him over my shoulder to see him holding my veil. It’s tacky and over the top. I hate it. My mother ordered it. Said it would make me look the part. Of what? Not sure what she meant, and she never answered. I left it behind and stashed it in another room on purpose.

He reaches down, picks up my train, and moves it to the side to get closer to me. Sighing, I turn back, and my eyes find Tyson again before my brother places my veil on.