I gazed across the crystal clear expanse of the lake, and spotted Makayla easing into the water for her morning dip for losing the bet I had known she would lose. My lower body seized with a deep longing to have her again. Makayla’s long hair blanketed down her naked back, almost reaching her luscious backside. The delicate curve of her bottom, no longer pink from last night’s spanking, made me hungry for more.

I wanted her now.

I walked down to the edge of the water, and regardless of how cold it had been yesterday, I dove in. Taking a quick moment to adjust to the chill of the water, but grateful it wasn’t as cold as the day before, I swam with speed until I reached her.

Wrapping my arms around her body, I murmured against her wet neck, “I woke up and you were gone. Don’t leave me again.”

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And if I do?” she teased as she pressed her bottom to my hardness.

I slid my hands around her waist and pulled her tighter against me. She didn’t resist, but instead, positioned her body so that the cleft of her ass rested against my lengthening desire.

“I would have to punish you,” I said with a nip to her ear. “Again.”

Makayla released a soft moan, tilting her head back in sweet surrender. She pressed her bottom even closer, allowing the tip of my erection to slip between her plump cheeks and nudge against her tight rosebud. Not all the way, but enough to feel the tight heat of her taboo channel. I splayed my hands across her mound and toyed with her clit, swirling my fingertip in circles. I wanted to learn every inch of Makayla’s body, and master the skill of causing her body to hum.

“Then I’ll just have to accept my punishment like a good girl,” she replied, sighing contentedly.

With the tip of my penis still teasing her entrance, I growled in response.

I twirled Makayla to face me, my hands hugging the roundness of her behind. Inhaling deeply, intoxicated by her scent, I moaned.

I slipped a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to me. My lips met hers. They were warm and soft, wet from her morning swim. I couldn’t help pressing forward, driving my ready cock against her heat.

The kiss was much like the ones we had had, yet there was something different about it. There was a new hunger, a new want. When my arms slipped around her waist, my finger sliding into the crevice of her behind, there was no tension or tightening from her. Every inch closer my finger got to her puckered hole, her body seemed to soften against mine. With a hungry press of my fingertip into her tightness, her full submission was obvious. Makayla hungered for this, and I needed to make sure she never hungered again.

“Let’s go back to the house. I want you.” Pressing my finger deeper within her behind, I said, “I want you here.”

I pulled my finger out of her channel just enough to elicit a gasp from Makayla. “I want to be buried deep within your ass. So deep. Deeper than you can imagine.”

I finally pulled away, loving the fact that Makayla didn’t recover immediately. Her eyes were still closed, her breath rapid as she clutched my arms.

We made our way back to the house in a sex-crazed haze, almost as if our bodies were programmed in what exactly to do. I was so lost in my sexual thoughts, that it took me several moments to realize a car was coming down the drive. Makayla and I both froze for a moment but then grabbed our clothing and quickly began to pull them on. It could be Rhett, and he was going to shit bricks if he caught me naked with his daughter.

“Is it Papa?”

“If it is, you better hurry and finish dressing,” I warned, already mentally preparing for the war that was about to take place.

But I soon saw that my battle plan wasn’t needed when a young man as skinny as a willow branch got out of the car holding an envelope. I waved him down as he was walking toward the front door of the house.

“Over here, son. You can give that to me,” I said as I approached him wearing nothing but my jeans, my upper body still dripping wet from the lake.

The young man met me halfway and then his eyes cast over my shoulder to what I knew was Makayla still getting dressed. Part of me wanted to beat the boy senseless for sneaking a peek, but another part of me understood. How could you not look at something so gorgeous?

“Thank you,” I said, taking the letter. Luckily, my wallet was still in the back pocket of my jeans, so I pulled it out and handed the courier a fifty-dollar bill.

The boy took one more look at Makayla and then scurried back to his car, leaving me standing there half wet and terrified of what I would find in the delivery. I knew the letter was from Rhett. He was the only one who knew where we were.

I opened the envelope fearing what I would read. I knew the only good news would have come with Rhett driving down the drive to meet us here with that big goofy grin of his. A letter was not going to be good. I knew this. And without even looking up to see Makayla staring at me with those big wide eyes of hers, I knew she felt the same way.

“What does it say?” she asked softly.

I knew I had to read it first. I had to. My job was to protect Makayla, and I needed to know exactly how I would need to do that. Trying to read the letter first as quickly as I could, I could feel the impatience exuding from Makayla before me.

Alec,

If you are receiving this letter, then you did as I asked and took Makayla to our special spot. I thank you for that. Knowing she is safe is the only thing that is giving me comfort right now. I know in my heart that you will make sure she is forever protected. Especially since I can’t be there anymore to do so.

My refusal to give up Makayla will lead to my ultimate death. Yes, I have a chance at winning the roulette, but I’m not going to go into the ritual with that expectation. I’ve never been a lucky man. My chances aren’t good, and accepting this fact will help me get my affairs in order. Makayla is all I care about, and knowing you will handle it from here sets my mind at ease. My attorney will be contacting you in regards to the estate once my body is found. He will also have a letter I have written to Makayla to hopefully give her some sense of closure. All my wishes will be outlined, and I feel I have made everything as easy as possible to handle. I hope that you help guide Makayla in what needs to happen in regards to all that. She is a highly intelligent woman, but not skilled in the world of business yet. Teach her. School her. Make her become the most powerful woman with the tools I will leave behind. My estate will take care of her for the rest of her life if managed properly. I task you with this, my friend. You are the only one I trust in handling this.

I don’t want Makayla to know about the ritual at all. The brotherhood will cover up my death and make it look like something else as they always do. Please let Makayla believe whatever cause of death is portrayed on the surface. I don’t want her knowing anything about the brotherhood, the ritual, or the fact that a rock with her name on it was drawn. I don’t want these nightmares of my life to affect her any longer. Give her the ordinary life she so deserves.

This will be my last correspondence with you as the date of the ritual is coming soon. But as my final words, I want to tell you that I value our friendship now more than ever. I know you will follow my wishes. I go to my grave with fond memories of you, my wife, and my precious daughter all at the lake. As I pull the trigger in the game of roulette, I plan to close my eyes and only see that vision.

Forever friends,

Rhett

“Read it to me,” Makayla said, breaking me from my heartbreaking thoughts.

My friend. My dead friend.

No! No! No!

Even if I wanted to try to hide the awful news, the punch to the gut feeling and the way my ears rang made it impossible to keep a cool appearance. I knew this.

“Why aren’t you reading his letter to me?” Makayla asked, her voice rising to a level of hysteria. “I can see it upset you. What does it say? Tell me!”

I folded the letter and looked into her eyes. I wouldn’t be able to read this again and not puke. And she certainly couldn’t read this. If it were possible to die of a broken heart, this letter would surely murder Makayla.

Makayla lunged for the letter, but I was able to step back and pull it from her reach.

“Give it to me!” she demanded. “He’s my father. You have no right to keep it from me.”

“Makayla…” Still holding the letter back and out of reach, I shook my head. “I don’t want you reading this.”

She froze and stared at me. “Why?” The fear on her face made me want to scoop her up into my arms and hold her tight. “Is it bad?” Her question was so frail and fragile.

I nodded.

“Why? What does it say? Please, Alec. Don’t keep it from me.”

Knowing that Makayla wouldn’t give up, and maybe because deep down I agreed with her in that she did have the right to know, I slowly handed her the letter. I just prayed I wasn’t giving her the tools to her undoing.

I watched her shaky hands hold the letter as her eyes followed each word on the paper. The color faded from her face and her lip began to quiver. Makayla didn’t need to tell me she was done reading the letter, because her crumpling body falling to the ground told it all. Resting on her knees with the letter still in her hands, a howl more earth shattering than anything I had ever heard before filled the calm morning air. The morbid and anguished cry of Makayla stopped my heart as I watched this poor woman read the final words of her father’s death letter.

Falling to my knees in front of her, I pulled her screaming and sobbing body into my arms. “Oh, Makayla,” was all I could say. I had never felt so helpless in my life. As she screamed NO over and over again, I would have done anything to absorb the pain from her body.

She clung to my shirt with her balled fists and screamed, “No! This can’t be! Why would he be saying this? Why is he saying he’s going to die?” She pulled back and looked at me. “Fix this! Please. I beg you. Fix this!”

I just shook my head and looked down at the ground in shame.

She hit me hard in chest, and then again, and again. “Fix it! Fix it, god damnit! Do you hear me? Fix it!”

“I can’t.” I hated myself for saying those words.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. There has to be something.” Her screams turned into full on sobs—so deep that her entire body shook as she did so. “Please, Uncle Alec. Save my papa. My papa…”

And just like that, the beautiful woman from this morning became the little girl of my past.

But this time, the little girl was broken. Shattered. Afraid. And in need of someone to take it all away.

I was not that man.

I couldn’t be that man.

I would do anything if I fucking could. But I was not the man she needed in her hopeful fairytale dream that a knight in shining armor would swoop in and save her father from the ugly dragon threatening to end it all with one puff of the fire.

We were not in a fairytale, and I was not the hero.

Rocking her back and forth on the dirt-covered ground was all I could do, and eventually her devastating sobs subsided. It gave me hope that maybe Makayla wouldn’t die in my arms from the enormity of her pain.

Standing up, she looked down at me with a new look of determination in her eyes. “Tell me about this ritual. What is Papa talking about when he says roulette and my name on the stone? I want to know everything. You are going to tell me all about it.”

I stood and brushed the dirt off my pants, preparing to tell her everything she asked. It was the least I could do.

“What is Papa talking about in this letter? Why does he think he’s going to die?”

“Why don’t we go sit on the porch,” I said as I placed my hand on her lower back. “It’s a long story.”

Makayla didn’t resist, but allowed me to guide her in silence to the two rocking chairs overlooking the lake.

“You know about The Iron Colt Brotherhood,” I began. “Every year they hold a ritual. This ritual has been occurring since long before the war was fought to end slavery. It’s an archaic ritual that many members hate, but have no choice but to be part of. Every year, rocks are drawn with people’s names on it. Females are drawn for the first part of the ritual, and six men’s names are drawn for the final part of the ritual—the roulette part. Your name was drawn to be part of the ritual, and clearly, your father is refusing for that to happen. Because of that, he is automatically part of the ritual himself. The Russian roulette part of the ritual. He will have a one in six chance at survival. He and five other men will be sitting around a table, have to place the gun at their temple, and pull the trigger. There is only one bullet in the revolver, and one man will definitely die. Rhett’s only hope is that the bullet goes into someone else’s head rather than his own.”

“Why was my name drawn? I never put my name on a rock or asked a favor of the brotherhood.” I was surprised to hear Makayla ask the question so calmly.

I sighed deeply. “Your father was desperate when your mother got sick. He was determined to save her. To beat the cancer even though the doctors said there was no hope. He wanted access to the best specialists and to have her participate in all the medical trials. To get these favors, he put his name on a lot of stones that were placed in the urn. He didn’t care how much he was at risk of having his rock drawn for the ritual. Eventually the brotherhood had felt that he maxed out his favors and entries into the urn. So, feeling desperate to save your mother, he put your name on the rocks too. He would have done anything to save Minka. And he had told me that if by some chance your name came up, he would refuse and face the consequences then. He would never allow you to be part of the ritual.”

“So, was my name drawn to play Russian roulette?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. The first part of the ritual is where the women are used. Each woman is treated like an animal, a sex slave to be purchased by one of the members of the brotherhood to be theirs for the ritual in whichever way they choose. The women have no choice but to be violated, abused and treated like a plantation owner in the days long gone would treat a slave… but far worse.”

“Jesus. Why? Why would any of you want to be part of this?”

“It’s sick. It’s why I chose to leave it all behind a long time ago. The ritual is supposed to be symbolic of a society that thrived for decades. To demonstrate power, control, dark desires, and show that there is a price to pay for it all.” I paused, hating the way she was looking at me. “You have to remember that both your father and I were born into this. It’s hard to walk away from a heritage and tradition that has always been. Blue blood connections are almost impossible to break. It doesn’t make it right, but it was just the reality that your father and I were part of our entire lives.”

Accepting my answer with a slight nod, Makayla asked, “So, that’s why my father was so overprotective of me? He was worried I would be pulled into the ritual.”

“I’ve seen the ritual,” I confessed. “I would fear that as well. I can’t imagine you being part of it.”

“But my name was drawn when I left for New Orleans and that is why my father sent us here. Right?”

I nodded. “It seems so.”

“And because my father refused, they are forcing him to do the Russian roulette?”

I nodded again. “He’s sacrificing himself. It’s one of the rules of the ritual. Someone can sacrifice to save someone else. It’s rarely done, but it can be.”

“Where does this ritual take place?”

“Do you remember the Myers’ mansion?”

“That old plantation?” Her eyes grew wide. “I’ve been there so many times as a kid. We would go there for BBQs and parties. The Myers are part of this? This can’t be true. They were such nice people.”

“I can bet everyone you have ever known is part of The Iron Colt Brotherhood. Like I said, every powerful man in Georgia and the south is connected to it or knows about it and covets a spot. Not everyone involved is bad. Like I said, the pull by bloodline alone is what makes breaking away almost impossible. And if you want to be a rich man and succeed in any form of business, then you can’t just walk away. The brotherhood can make or break you.”

“This can’t be allowed!” Makayla shouted, standing from the chair. “I’ll call the police. They’ll stop it. I won’t let my father risk dying because of some fucked up old ritual done by power hungry crazed men.”

I sighed heavily, frustrated by the naivety of her statement. “Do you really think the police aren’t aware and paid handsomely by the brotherhood? There is no part of Georgia The Iron Colt Brotherhood does not control.”

Makayla collapsed back in the rocker in defeat and sat there in silence for several moments before asking, “So, do the women die? In the first part of the ritual that Papa is protecting me from, do I have a chance of dying?”

“No. Though I’m sure some wish for death during it.”

“But I wouldn’t die?”

“No…” I narrowed my eyes on her, pretty sure where she was going with this. “Makayla, your father refused. He already made up his mind and put his name in your place. So if you are thinking—”

“That it would be better for me to do it than him,” Makayla interrupted. “At least no one would die that way.”

I could see she was getting agitated and worked up again, and I needed to try to diffuse her belief that she could swoop in and save the day. She didn’t understand the way the brotherhood worked, and as much as I wanted to fix this in any way I could, I just couldn’t think of a way.

“Do you know when the ritual is?” she asked.

“Yes, in two days.” I reached out for her hand and squeezed. “Makayla, I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But all we can do is sit here and hope for the best. There is still a chance your father could walk away from the roulette. Some other poor bastard could be the dead man. Not him.”

She didn’t answer me, but turned her head to stare out at the lake. I took her silence as a sign that, though she didn’t like the situation anymore than I did, she realized we had to just pray Rhett walked away with his life.

“I’m going to go get us something to drink. I think we could both use it.”

Very softly, she asked, “Will you go down to the wine cellar and get a good bottle?”

“Of course,” I said as I stood and bent over to kiss her on the top of her head. “All is not lost yet.”

“You’re right,” she agreed with a weak smile. “All is not lost yet.”