Caden sat in a quiet corner of the rare books room of the Boston Public Library, looking around the elegant space without really seeing any of the countless valuable tomes protected in their glass bookcases. Instead, he was trying to look away from what lay on the table before him.

It was a mistake. It had to be.

Like the masochist he was, he looked down at the letter.

---

You will find a robe in Room C. Right-hand corridor.

Wait until you hear the bell.

—Grand Master

---

This wasn’t part of the deal.

Caden stroked his chest again absentmindedly. He’d anticipated punishment for what he’d done to his parents. Not a goddamn binding ceremony.

His guard had delivered the letter to him at the crack of dawn this morning, informing him they needed to be on the road in half an hour if they were going to be in Boston in time for Caden’s “meeting.”

He’d gathered up his few things and spent the seven-hour car ride from York, Pennsylvania, to Boston trying to figure out the Grand Master’s angle, trying to determine if this was all a trick.

There was a good chance he could go to that room to find an assassin. And in truth, that wouldn’t shock him overly much.

A quick glance at his phone told him he needed to move now, either to the elevator that would take him down to Trinity Masters’ headquarters to meet his fate head-on, or out the front door of the library to live his life on the run.

He stood and walked toward the small closet near the back of the rare books room.

Caden was finished running.

And he held on to that determination all the way to the dressing room downstairs. That was where his feet stopped and his confidence wavered. He stood outside the dressing room labeled C without moving to open the door.

Assassin?

Or marriage?

Both sounded pretty damn dire to him.

What if the letter was legitimate? What if he was here to be bound to his trinity? So much of his life had been leading up to this event, his parents preparing—no, training—him for it. He had been raised to believe receiving his life partners would be the penultimate moment, the time he would discover his place in the society and how he could use it to expand his wealth and importance in the world.

He’d been only a teenager when he put two and two together and realized his parents’ vision of the purpose of the Trinity Masters differed from the true ideals of the society. While they put on a good public face, behind the scenes his parents had found ways to exploit the lofty connections the secret society offered to expand their own riches.

Caden held his breath and opened the door, trying to prepare himself for the blinding pain of a bullet ripping through his body. He’d known that agony once before and had no desire to repeat the experience. All he could hope was that, this time, the tiny missile pierced his heart so he wouldn’t have to feel anything anymore.

The room was empty, apart from the robe that was hanging from a hook on the wall.

Shit.

It appeared the day truly had arrived. In just a few minutes, he would bind his life to that of two strangers.

There was nothing he wanted less.

His desire to remain in the Trinity Masters had faded more with each passing year as he’d played the puppet, dancing out of control, tied tightly to his family’s strings. If things had gone differently, worked out the way he’d always planned, he and Rose would have found the evidence they’d needed to destroy his parents, and he would have used that to blackmail his parents into giving him legal guardianship of Tabby. Then he, Rose, and Tabby would have moved, probably to somewhere in Asia or South America, where he could finally give his sister the sort of care she deserved, away from the cold hospital his parents had stuck her in. And he’d learn to love Rose in a way that didn’t involve whips and chains.

It hadn’t worked out that way. He’d been shot by Christian Stewart Rodgers and nearly died. In the midst of his recovery, his brother Weston had returned from the dead, rescued Tabby, kidnapped Rose, and done what Caden couldn’t.

Saved them.

None of this made sense to him. Not the letter or the drive to Boston or his presence in this damn room.

He reached toward the robe, but hesitated. Once again, he considered turning around and leaving headquarters. He’d walk out of this godforsaken place and just keep walking. Leave Boston. Hell, he’d leave the country.

The idea of a deserted island sounded appealing. Tom Hanks might not have been happy playing the Castaway for four years, but Caden couldn’t think of anything better than that fate. He was finished with people. In his experience, they served only one of two purposes.

To use or be used.

That was certainly how he’d lived his life—giving and receiving more than his fair share of both.

But then, because he was the eternal fool, Caden found his stupid courage again and slid his shirt off, reaching for the robe.

A bell rang and before he could think through his actions, he tugged the hood over his head and walked into the altar room.

The chamber was smaller than he remembered and dark enough that he struggled to see much outside the areas illuminated by spotlights. Glancing up, he thought the ceiling might be a dome, but it was too hard to tell.

The spotlights revealed four chairs facing a large bronze medallion bearing the Trinity Masters’ symbol and motto engraved in the middle of the floor.

The Grand Master, Juliette, was hidden deep within her own black robes, and standing regally before the high-backed winged chairs. Sitting there were two other hooded figures, a man and a woman, given the fact one was wearing black like him, the other white.

Caden walked across the room and took the only other remaining chair, sinking down heavily. It occurred to him, belatedly, that he’d made the wrong decision.

He should have cut and run. He had no business here.

Juliette began to speak the words, recite the ceremony that would bind him to these strangers.

“When you joined, you made a vow. You pledged your lives to our cause and our way. The time has come for you to meet your partners, your lovers, your spouses.”

The Grand Master was making a mistake. One that sparked Caden’s anger.

Why was she doing this? Why would she subject these innocent people to a life spent with him? He was broken, incapable of love or caring or commitment or even what others considered a normal sex life.

The only reason he could come up with was these other two people had fucked up too. Done something unforgiveable to the society and she’d decided to punish the three of them in one fell swoop.

Part of him hoped to God that was the truth. It was the only way he could get through this.

“When I call your name, stand and remove your robe.”

Caden’s attention was captured when the Grand Master called out the first name.

“Isaiah Hayes.”

Caden watched as the other figure in black rose from his seat, lowered the hood, then tugged off the robe. Caden didn’t recognize the man at all, which either meant he was a fairly new member or one who lived too far away to regularly attend the society’s annual galas.

He was a striking biracial man, clean-shaven with close-cropped hair. Caden figured Isaiah probably only just hit the six-foot mark and he had the lean, fit body of a soccer player. He wore boxer briefs, his chest bare, hairless, and, well…ripped. The guy clearly engaged in a serious daily workout routine. His eagle-sharp eyes looked first at the woman and then at Caden.

Caden could almost feel sorry for the guy, standing there, exposed to their gaze without having the benefit of seeing their eyes, reading their expressions. Of course, that might be a blessing for him, given the way Caden felt at the moment. His anger was growing with each passing minute.

He shouldn’t fucking be here.

Juliette said the next name. “Tess Hamilton.”

The woman stood slower. Caden closed his eyes. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t hurt another woman.

Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he held it as his eyelids raised to watch her disrobe.

Tess dropped her hood, revealing her deep auburn hair, bright green eyes, and honest-to-God freckles. She was so fucking wholesome, Caden could swear he actually smelled fresh air, even down in this cavernous room well beneath the busy city streets above.

She was slower to drop her robe, and Caden saw her hands shake as she lifted them to shrug the heavy material off her shoulders. She wore a white silk nightdress that hung to just below her knees. It was held up by spaghetti straps, her cleavage playing peekaboo through the lace trim that ran along the top. It was probably the most innocent lingerie he’d ever seen. Yet, it was also the sexiest.

Tess wasn’t razor thin. She had curves. Caden let his gaze drift over her body, taking note of the way her skin flushed. All of it. Not just her cheeks.

Despite the blushing, she didn’t appear demure or overly shy. In fact, when Caden was able to drag his eyes away from her generous breasts, he found her staring at him, a soft smile on her lips as if she could tell where he was looking even though she couldn’t see his face.

Then Juliette called out his name, “Caden Anderson,” and he realized this wasn’t some weird sort of screwup. She truly meant for him to be here.

He stood and his hands seemed to move of their own volition as his robe fell away. He hadn’t had enough time to do more than remove his shirt, so he looked out of place with his new partners, standing there shirtless, in faded jeans with more than a few holes in them and ancient tennis shoes.

He didn’t have to look at Tess or Isaiah to know where their gazes had gone. The gunshot wound to his chest had healed months ago, but the scar it left behind hadn’t softened much. It still looked angry, puckered, and red. Sometimes he’d stand in front of a mirror, staring at it, wondering how the hell he’d survived. For several weeks afterwards, thanks to drugs and bitterness, he’d convinced himself he really was Satan and that the devil couldn’t be killed.

“You three now belong to one another. Stand on the medallion.” Juliette gestured for them to put their hands out as they moved into position.

Isaiah put his out first and Tess laid hers on top. Caden hesitated a second too long, causing Juliette to clear her throat. Once again, he moved without thought and he covered Tess’ hand. He felt hers shaking slightly, so he closed his around it—and Isaiah’s by extension, holding them all firmly together.

The Grand Master took the ornate gold chain from around her shoulders and looped it around their hands.

“You are bound together now by our laws.” She removed the chain and stepped away from them.

Caden didn’t move, wasn’t sure how to react to what had just happened. However, Isaiah knew exactly what came next. He turned toward Tess with a kind smile and asked, “May I kiss you?”

Tess’ blush deepened even as she nodded eagerly. Isaiah leaned forward and gently kissed their future wife. Caden watched, never moving, barely breathing. When they broke apart, they both looked at him. Their sudden frowns clued him into the fact that he was scowling.

Rose had once commented on his constant dark looks, suggesting he practice smiling more lest he scare small children.

He didn’t bother to lighten his expression. Too much of this rang wrong. What the fuck was Juliette doing? Partnering him with these two?

“Caden,” Isaiah broke the silence, reaching out with his hand.

Caden looked at it, then slowly accepted the handshake. However, he stiffened when Isaiah stepped into it, adding a man hug at the last minute. Caden stood stock-still, accepting the embrace but not returning it, ruining the man’s attempts at establishing some sort of friendliness between them. In the end, the whole thing felt awkward.

Tess didn’t move once they’d parted, clearly recognizing his discomfort.

Caden felt Juliette’s gaze on him, sensed she was giving him a second or two more to try to salvage his fuckup. Caden didn’t bother, so she began to speak.

“In the past, there was a waiting period between the binding ceremony and marriage that allowed our trinities time to get to know each other and to figure out ways to put their lives together. Lately, that tradition has changed. As you may or may not know, each newly formed trinity is given a task to complete before the formal wedding ceremony will take place.”

And that was when Caden realized why he was here. The Grand Master had a job for him to do, and she didn’t mind sacrificing the future of these two people to achieve her goals.

“If you will please get dressed and report to the conference room, one of my advisors will assign your task there.”

The Grand Master exited through a door at the back of the altar room on the opposite wall from which they’d entered. Caden was no fan of Juliette, but he sort of hoped she’d come back. He couldn’t be alone with these two.

Not that it mattered. The three of them had been bound together and would be married once they’d completed their assigned task.

Forever.

That wasn’t the deal he thought he had made with that bastard Devon. Caden had truly believed Devon had saved him to keep him as a pet, a dog he’d slip the leash on and off whenever he needed someone taken care of. Strangely, the idea of that role within the Trinity Masters appealed to him far more than this one did.

That one ensured he only hurt the people who deserved it. And not with emotions, but with explosives. Maybe poison. Torture, most definitely.

This way…

He looked toward Tess, her smile was sweet, open, friendly. Funny how those attributes only served to feed his anger, because he couldn’t see any way this was going to end without her getting hurt.

Juliette was a coldhearted bitch.

“I’ll meet you both in the conference room,” Isaiah said, gesturing for Tess to walk ahead of him toward her dressing room.

The two of them exited the room via different doors, leaving Caden standing alone on the bronze medallion.

He stared down at it, studying the words.

Nitimur in Vetitum.

We strive for the forbidden.

He recalled the first time he’d been here, a legacy called to take his rightful place in the society. Had he been excited? Happy?

Caden tried to remember what he’d felt at the time, but he couldn’t. He glanced toward the dressing room doors and wondered about these people. There had to be a reason why Juliette selected them.

A reason that was going to be explained in the conference room.

As much as it annoyed him, his feet started moving toward the dressing room, where he retrieved his shirt, and then to the conference room before his head could come up with a reason for him not to go.

Once again, he was the last to enter the room.

He felt a slight sense of relief to discover that besides his new trinity, there was only Franco in the room. Caden was too off-balance to deal with Devon today.

Caden claimed a seat toward the far end of the table, several chairs away from where Tess and Isaiah sat.

Franco looked at him curiously for just a moment before beginning. “The Trinity Masters is at war with a foe as old as our society.”

Caden sucked in a deep breath as Tess and Isaiah frowned. This wasn’t good. The purists had been around since the nineteen-forties, so they were hardly that old. Which meant someone else had come onto the scene.

Excellent. Caden would hate to think that by blowing up his parents’ yacht, he’d actually killed the last of the world’s villains. It wasn’t like he would enjoy spending Friday nights in ordering pizza, drinking beer, and watching movies on television like a normal person.

Franco forged on. “The honor of our society is at stake.” He reached into a thick file sitting in front of him and pulled out a paper. To Caden’s surprise, Franco rose, walked down the length of the table and handed it to him. Then he gestured for Tess and Isaiah to move closer.

Smooth move. Franco had found a way to close the distance between the three of them.

Caden glanced at chicken scrawl on the paper, frowning as he skimmed the lines. “A poem?”

“We have reason to believe the poem means something, that it is a clue that will unlock a mystery involving our enemies.”

“Another fucking wild-goose-chase,” Caden muttered with disgust. Tess and Isaiah both glanced at him curiously.

Caden hadn’t had to see Juliette’s face to feel her disdain for him.

Franco, however, didn’t seem to feel the same. He grinned. “You aren’t the first to describe it that way.”

“The Grand Master wants me to figure out what this means?” Caden asked.

Franco shook his head. “No. She wants the three of you to figure it out.”

Semantics.

Juliette was testing him. Caden was almost tempted to throw the game, to fail on purpose, just so he could be done with all this bullshit. The Trinity Masters could destroy him or kill him at this point. He really didn’t care. He was tired of playing the lackey in someone else’s life.

Before he could ball up the paper and toss it in Franco’s face, Tess took it from his hands.

“I’ve read this poem before.”

Franco’s excitement at her proclamation was almost tangible. “You have? Where?”

“My parents had a framed copy of it stashed away in our attic. I found it once and asked about it. My mother said it belonged to my father’s family, and that it had been passed down through the generations. She said that someday it would be mine to store in a box somewhere.”

“Did she say anything else about it?”

Tess shook her head. “No. I got the sense she didn’t really want it. That it was some silly thing taking up space. My mom is sort of the opposite of a hoarder, the ultimate minimalist. If she decides something doesn’t have a purpose in life, she pitches it. Wrote a best-selling book instructing others on how to do the same.”

“Hey,” Isaiah said. “Was it Ellen Hamilton’s Less Mess, No Stress?”

Tess nodded.

“I read that. She’s a clean-house genius.”

Tess rolled her eyes, ready to argue that assertion. “She pitched every single one of my Barbie dolls because they weren’t in perfect condition. I would have liked to pass those on to my own daughter.”

“Really?” Franco shook his head. “That’s a shame. I’ll never understand why anyone would want to throw away someone else’s history.”

Caden sighed. “Can we discuss dirty houses later?”

“Of course.” Once again, Franco was focused, a man on a mission. “Can you find out where the poem came from exactly, Tess? Determine if anything else was passed down as well?” Franco asked.

Tess nodded. “Sure. There’s a chance my dad might know more about it. It was from his family after all. I’ll call him and ask.”

Franco smiled. “Your task is to interpret the poem, determine what it means and follow any clues you might find. The three of you may be the key to uncovering the sins of our foes and protecting our society from a very real threat. Once you’ve completed your task, you’ll return here to be formally wed, your trinity complete.”

Caden wasn’t sure what part of Franco’s statement frightened him more. The threat from their enemies or the formal wedding to these two strangers.

“Is that all?” Isaiah asked as the three of them rose to leave.

Franco hesitated. “For now. Caden, I wonder if you might stay behind a moment.”

Tess and Isaiah took the hint and rose to leave. Isaiah was studying Caden curiously. His new partner wasn’t going to be an easy man to hide things from. He seemed too astute, too in tune with his surroundings and the people in them.

The moment they left, a second door in the far side of the room opened and Devon walked in.

“Thought I smelled something foul,” Caden said.

Devon’s expression didn’t change. It didn’t have to. He never looked at Caden with anything other than pure disgust.

“There’s something else we need from you.”

Caden crossed his arms. He should have known. Time to pay the piper.

“What?” he asked, his tone dripping in disinterest.

“I’m sure you noticed the names mentioned in the poem. In addition to Adams, Jefferson, and Hamilton—”

“The Hancocks.” Caden hadn’t been happy to see that surname included.

“Yes. They are still under suspicion.”

“Thought you couldn’t prove they were purists?” Devon had questioned Caden extensively about who else in the Trinity Masters might be involved, but apart from his parents and Mrs. Wythe, Caden hadn’t been privy to that information. He had long suspected Rose’s parents, but had never been able to prove it. If the Hancocks were a part of the purists, they were masters at keeping their hands clean and letting others do the dirty work.

“As you know, they reside in Boston. Since our questioning, they’ve been trying to reach out to Rose, to make amends for—”

“If they touch one hair on Rose’s head, if they do one single thing to hurt her, they’ll meet the same fate as my parents.”

Caden anticipated his threat would provoke Devon to anger. After all, he’d gone ballistic when Caden had blown up the yacht.

As such, he dropped his arms, his hands balling up, ready to swing in case the other man came at him. They’d both been raised in private schools, the image of wealthy and refined, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t resort to a good old-fashioned fist fight if words didn’t do the trick.

“You wouldn’t have to blow them up. I’d take care of them much more discreetly, and their deaths would not be instantaneous but take much longer, and be far more painful.”

Caden’s clenched fists loosened. It was the first thing Devon had ever said to him that almost made him like the man.

Of course, Devon ruined it in the next instant. “Given your willingness to toe the line for your parents for so many years, the Grand Master believes the Hancocks may turn to you as an ally. May think you’re still loyal to the cause and try to recruit you back.”

Caden didn’t mention his reasons for following his family’s orders. What had seemed like an honorable cause—keeping Rose and Tabby safe—no longer felt that way when he saw how Weston was able to accomplish the same without sacrificing so many of his principles.

“Am I supposed to let them think I’m on their side?”

Devon started to nod, then hesitated. “You’ve been playing the game for a long time, Caden. If they approach you,” he paused before saying, “read the room.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m leaving it up to you to play it however you think best. If it’s as a double agent, do it. If it’s as a newfound adversary, so be it. We weren’t able to question them properly. Given your knowledge of the purists and how they worked, maybe you can.”

Caden caught sight of Franco’s eyebrows rising in surprise at his partner’s comment. He had to admit he was in shock too, but years of practice had ensured he was better at schooling his expressions.

“Who’s threatening us? It’s obvious this is bigger than the purists.”

Franco looked at Devon, whose face was locked up tightly. The guy had a killer poker face. Finally, he nodded at his husband.

Franco sat down, inviting Caden to do the same. “What I say here needs to stay between us.”

Caden nodded. “Who the hell would I tell?”

Franco glanced toward the door where his new partners had just exited. Caden rolled his eyes and snorted. “I don’t know those people from Adam.”

Franco didn’t appear to like his answer. The guy seemed like the mismatch in the Juliette and Devon trinity. He wasn’t as serious and, while Devon gave nothing away with his expressions, Franco was a goddamn open book, written in large print.

For the next few minutes, Caden sat in stunned silence as Franco told him everything Weston and Rose had uncovered, about the sunken ship, the stolen artwork, the children.

Caden had spent nearly a decade of his life seeking these very answers. Having Franco roll out all the details and fill in all the blanks was as refreshing as it was annoying. So many years of his life were lost trying to uncover these secrets. And now, he couldn’t even revel in the reveal because shining a light on those crimes had proven there were even more secrets buried under those layers.

He sat quietly for several minutes after Franco had stopped talking. The other men gave him time to let it all soak in.

“I don’t understand how this poem is going to help us with the Masters’ Admiralty.”

Devon took over, and it didn’t take a genius to realize it was because he was censoring the answer and afraid Franco would say too much. So Caden was working on a need-to-know basis. What else was new?

“They’ve issued some threats that we’re dealing with. They want the rest of the stolen artwork, along with other things that are more difficult to deliver.”

“What other things?”

Devon shook his head, ignoring the questions. “Let’s just say, we’re hoping the mystery buried in the poem will offer us a bargaining chip.”

Caden knew that was as much as he was going to get from them, and he suddenly felt the strong desire to get the hell out of this place. “Anything else?”

Devon handed him a small piece of paper. “My phone number. Keep in touch. If the Hancocks really are purists, they’re better at concealing it than your parents ever were. Given his political aspirations, they’ve learned how to bury skeletons deep, and they’re rich beyond even your imagination, which means there’s probably not too much they can’t afford. Including a hitman or three. I can only offer you support if I know where you are.”

Caden pulled out his cell, punched in the number under the name Douchebag—which provoked a chuckle from Franco—then balled up the paper and tossed it on the table. He started to leave, then turned around to look at Devon.

“These people she’s bound me to…” He struggled to decide how to word his question, then kicked himself for broaching it in the first place.

Devon didn’t need to hear anything more. “They’re good people, Caden. But…they’re not in the lifestyle.”

Caden already suspected that. Hell, he already knew that. But hearing it confirmed only drove home exactly how screwed he really was.