The Sacrifice: A Dark Revenge Romance
The Sacrifice: Chapter 6

THREE YEARS LATER

My father always says life is made up of choices, depending on which one you pick, will determine what you get out of life.

My hands curl around the metal railing, looking down over the four-story nightclub. Blackout is a consequence due to one of my life choices.

I was supposed to be a powerful Lord, wear a three-piece suit every day, run a multibillion-dollar company, marry the Lady my parents wanted through an arranged marriage, have kids and a dog. All of that bullshit we’re forced to do to appear “normal” to the public eye.

It’s all a fucking lie. In my world, you can’t believe a damn word you’re told, or anything you see. It boils down to this: you’ll live until you die. It’s that simple.

The lights flash, and the music vibrates the breezeway I stand on. It’s a Friday night, after midnight, and the place is packed. I’ve run Blackout for three years now. The Lords gave it to me when I saw an opportunity and chose a different path than what I was meant for. They’re always willing to give you something in return for your servitude. So I allowed them to chain me to this club for the wife of my choosing.

She hates me. Too bad I don’t give a fuck.

How many marriages do you know where the husband and wife love one another. Not many in my world. It does happen, but it’s rare.

Pushing off the railing, I walk down to the doorway and enter my office, closing out the sound of the bass and the flashing lights. I walk over to my desk and sit down, leaning back in my chair.

I pull out the picture of my soon-to-be wife in my top desk drawer. She stands there with a smile on her face, her brown hair up in a messy bun and bright blue eyes. This was before her life went to shit. Before my life took a change and I decided to take her choices away from her.

From here on out, I will decide her fate and how her story goes. It’s for the best. Although, she’ll never see it that way. To her, I’ll be the enemy, but I’m okay with that. Sometimes the villain is the only one who wins because no one else is ruthless enough to fight him.

A knock sounds on my door, and I put the picture back. “Come in,” I call out.

Colton, Jenks, Finn, and Alex enter. “What’s up, boss?” Finn asks.

“I’m about to leave,” I tell them. “I’ll be gone the rest of the night.”

One thing about Blackout is I get to run this place how I want. Which means I answer to no one. As a Lord, you serve them for the rest of your life once you get your brand. You will be called to do assignments until one of them eventually kills you. But not me. Blackout guarantees that I do whatever the fuck I want.

That’s why I decided to hire an army of my own. Colton, Jenks, Alex, and Finn aren’t Lords. But they’re as close as they’ll ever get to being one. I even gave them their own brand. They work for me until I release them. And that will be the day I die.

“What do you need us to do?” Colton asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Keep the place from burning down,” I say seriously, but they laugh like I’m joking.

The sound of my cell ringing has them all turning and exiting my office to give me some privacy. I look down to see Ryat light up my screen. He’s a senior this year at Barrington and one of my best friends. He was a freshman during my senior year there. “Hey?” I answer.

“I’m on my way,” he announces in greeting.

“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

Exiting my office, I lock it up and go down to the first floor. Making my way down the back hallway, I enter the basement, grabbing a bag from a shelf and filling it with the things we’ll need.

The guy who’s naked and chained to the wall mumbles nonsense through his gag but I ignore him. I’ll take care of him later. Not like he’s in a hurry to die.

Zipping up the bag, I throw it over my shoulder and lock up the basement as well. As I run up the stairs, the floor vibrates from the music coming deeper within the club.

Shoving the back door open, I walk out into the pouring rain to see a black SUV parked nearby. I open the passenger door and hop in, tossing the bag into the back seat.

Ryat looks over at me, his green eyes then sliding to the bag. “Ready?”

I nod, shutting the door. “Yep.” I’ve waited for this day for too long. The Lords didn’t make me the Lord of the underworld for nothing. They knew I’d do their bidding as long as I got my chance at revenge. They’re handing it to me on a silver platter and I’m going to make him choke on it while my wife is on her knees swallowing my dick.

LAIKYN

Your wedding day is supposed to be one of the most exciting days of your life. Just like my mother, I’m about to marry a man I didn’t choose. Who I don’t love. I actually despise him, and everything that he represents—money, greed, and power are just a few of them.

My mother hates my father, but there was nothing either one of them could do. Their fate was decided, their destiny sealed. Same as mine. Same as my children’s. And my grandchildren’s. We are bred for the sole purpose of power. Control in numbers.

Fuck that!

Women in my world—the secret society of the Lords—should not reproduce. I don’t want children. The cycle will end with me. It has to. The Lords will only find a way to use its members. They marry us off to ensure we add to their army. The next generation of Lords and Ladies will help them take over the world.

I stand in the middle of the room, overlooking the white dress in the mirrored wall, running my hand down the mulberry silk—some of the finest silk available in the world. I take in a deep breath. It cost a whopping two million. Two million dollars for a fucking dress? My soon-to-be husband had it custom-made by a designer in France. I know this because my mother reminds me every chance she gets.

Why would I get to pick out something so important in my life? That’s insane, right? To think I should have any say in what I wear on the day I give my life to another.

It’s as if she thinks his wealth will impress me. It’s blood money. I know this because it’s the same fortune I grew up with. I never did want the finer things in life. I know a poor person would roll their eyes at that statement, but it’s true. Give me a beer, a cheap hoodie, and a hat to hide my three-day old mop of bleach-blond hair, and I’m happy.

But no. That’s unacceptable. The one percent aren’t allowed to look anything less than perfect. Not in public anyway. I’m surprised they even let us speak. We as women might as well walk around with duct tape over our mouths dressed in nothing but chains.

A Lord needs a Lady but not because of the reasons you may think. It’s a way to hide who he really is. He’ll have fucks all over the world, but we’re expected to cook, clean, and spread our legs for him when he’s home. Worship him like he’s God himself and birth his children.

I’ve never been religious, and I’m not going to fall to my knees and start worshipping a man now.

My brother comes up behind me, his eyes scanning over my dress in the mirror. “At least he has good taste.”

I roll my eyes. “As if that matters.”

“Just pop out some kids and get fat.” He shrugs. “Then he’ll screw anyone but you. Oh! Hire a hot, much younger nanny.” He nods to himself. “Let me try her out first, though. Make sure she’s good enough.”

His words just prove that all Lords are the same. He’s been a Lord for years but has yet to marry. He has the privilege of fucking his way around the world while I’m forced to sign my life away.

A cell rings, and he pulls it out of his tuxedo jacket to answer. “Hello?”

Sighing, I pick up the dress and walk over to the stained glass window. You can’t see shit out of it. This place is ancient. The Cathedral is to a Lord as a church is to a religion—their sanctum. It holds a hundred years of secrets like a sarcophagus encloses a mummy.

It was handed down to them years ago—a place to perform their sick and twisted rituals. There’s nothing fancy or special about it, if you ask me. I could be walking down the aisle in blue jeans and a T-shirt or lingerie. Doesn’t matter.

Not all Lords and Ladies are required to wed here. But it’s where my future husband picked. Our parents wanted it to be as traditional as possible. It’s a bullshit reason. They just want to make a spectacle of handing me over to him. We might as well be standing in a courtroom with a judge sentencing me to life in prison without the chance of parole for a crime I didn’t commit.

I place my hand on the cold glass, listening to the rain fall. It’s been storming for the past two days. It’s like the world knows I’ve been destined for a lifetime of servitude to a man I’d rather kill than kneel and suck his dick.

I blame my mother. She raised me to be strong-willed and determined. But now, I’m just supposed to turn it off and believe that I’m to devote my life to a man that will neglect me during the day but demand I spread my legs at night.

I won’t accept that. I deserve more. I want more.

My brother ends his call, getting my attention, and looks at me. “We have a problem,” he states.

My whole life is a fucking problem. “What?”

“Luke is missing.”

I snort. “Don’t toy with me like that.” That’s not a problem; that’s a prayer answered.

“I’m serious.” He swallows, looking around the large room nervously as if Luke’s going to appear out of thin air. “He’s not here. He never arrived. He’s also not at his house. He’s missing. No one has seen him.”

“I’m not sure why that’s a problem.” I don’t want to marry the sick bastard. Luke Cabot is the highest-ranking Lord you can come by, which just makes this even worse. Lords are like anything else in this world. You have some at the bottom, and others at the top. There are different tiers. But honestly, it doesn’t matter; they’re all sick fucking bastards who will kill anyone to get to where they are. Even the bottom feeders will destroy anything to get a chance at serving.

He steps over to me. “Laikyn …”

The door opens and my father enters with my mother. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m guessing this good fortune has nothing to do with you two?”

My mother’s injected lips seem to thin a tad at my comment. She’s told me a million times that this is just the life we live. That it’s a “tradition” and I just have to accept it. That as far as Lord and Lady goes, we’re royalty. Bull-fucking-shit. I’d rather be someone’s bitch than a Lord’s Lady.

My father, however, stares at the floor while running a hand through his dark hair. “Daddy?” I ask, stepping over to him, holding my dress in my hands so I don’t step on the hem. “What’s going on?”

His throat works, swallowing before his eyes find mine. There’s a look of regret in them, and hope fills my chest. Maybe he’s realized that I don’t want this life.

He clears his throat. “I just received a call …”

“Please tell me you did this—called off my wedding?” I rush out, my words hopeful.

“I’m sorry, Laikyn, but the wedding is still on.” He sighs.

And what little hope I had is now smothered. “But Miller said Luke’s missing.” I point at my brother. Had my father received the same phone call that my brother did? Or was it someone else?

“You are no longer to wed Luke.” He yanks on the collar of his tux.

Picking up the dress so I don’t trip over it in my six-inch hooker heels—that my soon-to-be husband also picked out—I take a step back, my heart picking up speed. This is good news. Why does he look so concerned? “I don’t understand. If he’s not here—”

“A new Lord has chosen you,” he interrupts me.

My mother places her hand over her mouth, trying to quiet a sob.

“No,” I argue. “That can’t be.” It was decided that Luke would be my husband when I was eighteen—three years ago. Things like this aren’t just changed at the last minute. I’ve lived the last few years preparing for this day. To be his wife. What he wanted. A Lord can’t choose to marry me, not when I’m already promised to another.

“Who?” my brother demands. “Who in the hell would make this change?” He fists his hands at his sides.

I reach up and grab the pearls my mother gave me. She thought they would give me some kind of comfort, and I laughed, but now I hold on to them as if they’re an anchor to a lifeline.

“I—” The door swings open once again, this time hitting the interior wall and making me jump.

A set of baby-blue eyes meet mine, and my stomach drops. The wind knocked out of me. I haven’t seen them in years, but they’ve haunted my dreams ever since.

Three years ago

“Where is she?” my mother demands, entering the hospital. She received a phone call that my sister was brought in tonight, but no other information was given.

“Ma’am—”

“Where is my daughter?” she screams at the nurse, pounding on the check-in desk.

I turn around to see my sister’s boyfriend walking toward us. His white T-shirt and jeans are covered in blood, and my chest tightens to the point it restricts my air.

My mom’s legs give out when she sees him. “N-o,” she chokes, placing her shaking hand over her mouth.

Tyson catches her and holds her body to his, but his baby-blue eyes meet mine, sending a chill down my spine so cold, it’s paralyzing. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “She’s gone.”

“Tyson,” my brother growls, shoving me to the side and pulling me out of that memory, and steps in front of me. “What are you …?”

Ryat, Tyson’s best friend, slams the door shut just as hard as he opened it.

I take a step back, tripping over the dress, but thankfully, the stained glass stops me from falling to my ass.

“How?” my father demands, turning to face him.

Tyson just gives him an evil smile that reminds me of how fucked up he really is. “Leave us,” he orders.

Just the sound of his voice makes my legs want to buckle, but I manage to stay standing.

“I will not!” My father sidesteps to block their view of me.

Tyson takes the steps to close the small space between them and leans in, whispering in my father’s ear. His cold, baby-blue eyes are on mine, and even if he were screaming at my father, I wouldn’t be able to hear him over the pounding in my chest and the blood rushing in my ears. Sweat instantly beads across my forehead, and I’m having trouble catching my breath at the sight of him. Suddenly, the extravagant dress is too tight. The expensive material an anchor, pulling me down into a bottomless sea.

My father grabs my mother’s hand and pulls her from the room, leaving me. My brother goes to step out, but Ryat grabs his tuxedo jacket, yanking him back into the room. “You may stay,” Ryat tells him.

“Get the fuck out!” my brother yells at them. “Or I’ll call security.”

“Go ahead.” Tyson shrugs. “I replaced your guards with my own.”

I raise my sweaty hands. “What … what are you doing here?” Luke would never invite them to our wedding. He hates Tyson. I’m not sure how he feels about Ryat, though. But I can almost guarantee he’s not a fan due to the fact that he’s Tyson’s best friend. It’s that guilty by association thing.

“Ryat.” Tyson snaps his fingers at his best friend, who reaches into his tux and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He slaps it to my brother’s chest.

Letting out a huff, my brother opens it up and his eyes scan the paper, his body stiffening, and my breathing picks up. “What?” I ask nervously, my sweaty hand gripping the pearls around my neck.

“No,” he growls, shaking his head quickly.

“What is it?” I step forward and Tyson moves in front of me, his large frame towering over mine. I try to step away, but the glass is at my back again.

My brother’s face pales, and he whispers, “You are to marry Tyson.”

“Wh-at?” My legs threaten to buckle, my heart stopping altogether. “No. There must be—”

Tyson’s hand wraps around my neck, and he pins me to the cold glass. My hands shoot up, my nails digging into the sleeve of his black tux. I try to kick him away, but he’s standing on the skirt of the dress, restricting my movements.

“Laikyn!” My brother drops the paper and runs for me, but Ryat grabs his hair, yanking him back while kicking the back of his knees and forcing him to kneel. Reaching into his pocket, Ryat pulls out a pocketknife and flips it open. The sound of the click makes my breath catch before he holds it to my brother’s throat.

“No!” I shout at Ryat, and my eyes find Tyson’s blue ones. They’re cold. I’m not even sure if the man feels anything. He’s as bad as they come in the Lords. Most of the Lords are placed strategically out into the world to fit in while they take what they want. But not Tyson. No, he openly runs the underworld for them. “What do you want, you fucking bastard?” I demand. My body twists under his grip.

“Just you. Forever,” he answers simply.

My teeth grind and I lift my chin. “You sick fuck! You really think I’ll marry you?” He’s the reason my sister is dead. All Lords are evil, but something about him has always been off. “Over my dead body.”

A smile spreads across his face, telling me he expected this. He knows how I feel about him and that I’d never willingly give myself to him. I’d marry Luke a thousand times over before giving myself to Tyson. “Either your brother walks you down the aisle and gives you away to me, or Ryat slits his throat, and he hands you over to me himself with Miller’s blood on them.”

“Don’t do it,” my brother growls at me, and Ryat yanks his head back, forcing him to look up at the ceiling. Bringing the blade across his neck, he pushes the tip into my brother’s skin as if he’s about to slice it open.

“Don’t,” I cry out, knowing that he’ll kill him right here in front of me. I don’t know Ryat personally, but I know enough to know that he’s not the joking kind. He’s here for Tyson and will do whatever he tells him just to prove a point. I wasn’t able to save my sister, but I’ll do anything to save my brother. “I’ll … do it.” My chest tightens on the words, making it hard to get them out. I just signed my death warrant. But I will not lie down and give him the satisfaction of accepting it. He may run the Lords’ hell, but I will make sure I burn it down with me.

“That’s a good girl,” Tyson praises, running his free hand down the side of my face. He gently caresses me as if he thinks it’ll give me some sort of security. It’s all a fucking lie. I know how the Lords work. I’ve seen my father manipulate my mother over the years. But she allowed it. I, however, won’t. “Ryat, let our guests know we’ll be ready in ten minutes.” He steps away, releasing me, and I rub my sore neck where the pearls were digging into my sensitive skin.

Ryat exits the room, dragging my brother with him and leaving me alone with the monster who ruined my life.

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