The Sacrifice

The Lords are a secret society where blood determines membership and brutality proves worth.

The Lords are a secret society where blood determines membership and brutality proves worth. Over four years at Barrington University, initiates fight, kill, and obey without question to earn their brand—a mark burned into their chest that binds them until death. In his senior year, each Lord receives a chosen, a woman gifted for his use. After graduation, he marries a Lady in an arranged union that serves the society's power. Tyson Crawford completed every trial—beating a man to death, executing an assassination, blackmailing a senator—and earned his brand. But his senior-year assignment was no reward. He was ordered to make Whitney Minson, the daughter of a powerful Lord, his chosen. What looked like a gift was the beginning of a setup that would cost Tyson his title, his future, and nearly his life.

Tyson crashes the wedding with a knife at her brother's throat

Three years after her sister Whitney's death—which Laikyn has always blamed on Tyson—the man she fears most kicks open the Cathedral door where she waits to marry Luke Cabot, a powerful Lord. Tyson hands her brother Miller a document: the Lords have reassigned her. She will marry Tyson instead. Miller refuses. Ryat, Tyson's best friend, slams Miller to his knees and presses a blade to his neck. Tyson wraps his hand around Laikyn's throat and pins her against the stained glass. He offers two options: walk down the aisle willingly, or crawl on a leash wearing a collar. She agrees to save Miller's life. Her parents leave without protest—her father already warned by whatever Tyson whispered in his ear.

A dagger seals the vows Laikyn never wanted to speak

Before the ceremony, Tyson fastens a black velvet choker around Laikyn's neck—a shock collar disguised as jewelry. He yanks off her mother's pearls and scatters them across the floor. Miller walks her down the aisle to a song Tyson chose. At the altar, Tyson lifts a dagger from the Lords' table and presses it along her jawline, drawing blood that trails between her breasts. He pricks his own thumb and smears it across her trembling lips. Their vows emerge—hers barely a whisper, his a command to the congregation. He forces a kiss so deep her body betrays her with a moan she can't suppress. He whispers his welcome to hell, promising she will crawl only as far as his chains allow. The pastor pronounces them married. The words land like a cell door slamming shut.