The man smiles nervously. "Also a newcomer. My name is Larry Verenich."

"Zack," I offer.

Several robed figures start pouring out of the room through another black door straight ahead.

"Let's go," Dan says, nodding his head towards the group.

As I approach the door, a low hum gathers at the base of my neck, causing the hairs to rise. The room is just like I've seen in the videos. It’s like walking into an underground cave, only instead of moisture in the air, it's dry and heavy. The dark space is lit by hundreds of candles lining the rock walls. But the small flames are no match for the oppressing shadows.

We're on a rounded platform, a simple black rail as a barrier to about a forty-foot drop. In the center of the room is a stone altar, a wriggling little girl on top of it. Black straps circle her tiny wrists and ankles, keeping her in place.

She can’t be more than six or seven years old.

The hum grows louder until it sounds like it's coming from inside my own head. My hands clench beneath the fabric, and I'm only thankful that the sleeves are long enough to hide my reaction.

"To your left are the stairs," Dan says, pointing in the direction. “Go ahead and stand by the altar. One of you will be offered the knife to bleed out the sacrifice. Drink the blood, and you will be initiated into the Society."

I nod my head and take off in the direction. The rocky, uneven stairs are just around the bend, where Larry is already heading.

I lift the hood over my head, glancing around the areas until I spot the security guards—three of them on the bottom floor where the altar is, hidden off in the shadows. From my vantage point, I'm unable to see their faces. But I know Michael is one of them.

Two other men follow behind me as I make my way down the steps. The minute my foot hits the ground, a low chant begins, gaining in pitch as I approach the altar.

I stare at the little girl on the stone slab, tears tracking down her dirty cheeks. She's sobbing, her little lip curled in a frown as her wide blue eyes stare at us in absolute terror.

My heart constricts so tightly it's debilitating. By sheer willpower, I force myself to stand still.

"Fuck, I'm already getting hard," a guy whispers from my left. My teeth nearly crack from how hard I clench my jaw in that moment. Slowly, I turn to see a guy that looks like he's in his early twenties, his hood down. His brown, bottomless eyes glance up at me, and all I can see is pure excitement radiating from them.

He's going to be the first one to die.

He’s close enough that he can see my face, and I work to keep it neutral. He grins at me, but I give him no reaction. And though his smile falters just a little, the sick fuck has no idea that I just did him a huge favor. Because had I reacted, I would've reached down his throat and ripped out his windpipe with my bare hands.

"P-p-please, I want my mommy,” the little girl begs from below me. Her red and puffy eyes are full of tears and she’s staring up at me with terror and desperation. Her little lip trembles, and I have to physically restrain myself from reaching out and grabbing her tiny hand in my own.

“Pleeaasssee,” she cries, her blues full of tears, despite the rivers streaming down her cheeks. “I wanna go ho-oome.”

Snarling, I force my mouth to stay shut. More than anything, I want to reassure her. Comfort her. Promise her that she will get to see her mother again. But I can't allow any of those words to escape.

Not yet.

The chant around us grows louder, building until it feels like the cave vibrates from the sound. But it’s muted, like I’m under water. All I can concentrate on is the small girl pleading for my help.

I'm staring at her so hard, trying to convey the assurances in my eyes, that I don't even notice the black figure that approached until they’re right before me, standing on the other side of the little girl.

Their face is hidden in the depths of their hood, and black gloves cover their hands. I've no idea if this person is a man or a woman, or how significant they are.

They could be from the Society.

In fact, my intuition tells me they are.

In each hand are two goblets twined between their fingers. The figure holds out their arms, and the four of us each grab one. And then, the figure reaches down by their leg and pulls out a curved black blade.

They don't speak. They just balance the blade in the palm of their hand and hold it out straight, an offer for any one of us to take.

I swipe the blade, already sensing the frat boy next to me gearing up to snatch it. I can feel his disappointment, assumingly because he wanted to be the one to plunge the blade into a child's chest. And for that, I'm going to make sure his death is slow. He won't get the honors of getting his jugular sliced open so he can bleed out in seconds.

No, no. He won't be that fortunate.

The chanting escalates until the haunting noise radiates off the cave walls. I feel the figure's eyes boring into me. And though they can't see my face either, I return the stare.

Finally, they turn and walk away, disappearing back into the shadows.

My heart thumping heavily in my chest trumps the noise around me. I can't hear anything beyond the racing organ beneath my rib cage until the little girl's screams pierce the air. I've lifted the blade over her, the sharp point hovering right above her chest.

The handle is fisted in my grip. I stick out two fingers, pausing for a few seconds to make sure the signal is seen before tucking them back in.

And then I look down at the girl.

“Close your eyes,” I whisper. “And don’t open them until I tell you to.” Her lip wobbles, but she listens, closing her eyes to the horror that will happen around her.

Gripping the blade tightly, I lift it up and swipe my arm to the left. Directly into the frat boy's throat.

The chanting stutters before stopping completely, gasps ringing out as the boy beside me suffocates on his blood. I jerk the blade out, the suctioning noise swallowed by his choked gasps.

He’s staring at me, eyes wide with disbelief. And then he collapses, no longer capable of holding himself up.

Gunshots ring out. A security guard stationed behind me falls to the ground, his brain matter splattered into the shadows.

That was the trigger. The entire room bursts into action. Panicked screams and running bodies aim for the exit. I don't let Larry make it a step before the curved blade is plundering through his eye. Glasses and everything.

His body convulses, and then collapses when I rip it out of his head, the suctioning noise lost in the chaos.

I look down at frat boy, and watch him take his last breath, the life snuffed out from his eyes. And I smile.

Michael erupts from the shadows, running towards me. When he’s close enough, he flings a gun at me. I snatch the weapon in the air and face the direction the black figure disappeared off into.

Urgency flooding my veins, I glance down at the little girl, her eyes still faithfully closed. Blood is splattered across her body, and I hate that evil still managed to touch her.

Slipping the hood off my face, I lean down over the girl. “Open your eyes, pretty girl. But I want you to look only at me, okay?”

Slowly, she cracks them open. The tears have dried, but her face is still twisted with panic.

“My friend here is going to take care of you. He’s going to make sure you get back to your mommy, okay?”

Immediately, she bursts into tears again. I swipe her blonde hair from her face.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. What I want you to do is keep your eyes on him and only him. Close them if you have to. He’ll let you know when it’s safe.”