Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
She shot Axel.
He survived.
And somehow, he doesn’t remember she was the one who pulled the trigger.
It should be a relief.
Instead, the man she’s secretly loved for years feels different. Colder. More dangerous. Axel still smiles, still flirts, still looks at her like he might remember exactly how good they were together—but there are pieces of him she’s never seen before.
Secrets beneath the jokes.
Blood beneath the charm.
And a darkness he’s very, very good at hiding.
Because Axel remembers everything.
The bullet.
The betrayal.
The woman he still can’t stop wanting.
What Charlie doesn’t know is that Axel has spent years living two lives. In one, he’s the reckless man everyone underestimates.
In the other, he wears a mask.
The Proctor.
Judge. Jury. Executioner.
With the Convocation approaching, four powerful families are preparing to fight for control of the Honor Society, and someone is willing to wipe out entire bloodlines to take it. They need two things to win:
The Ledger.
And the Proctor.
Axel has both.
Now he has eighteen days to discover who is hunting him, keep Charlie alive, and stop a war without revealing the one secret that could destroy them both.
Because Charlie is searching for the Proctor too.
She just doesn’t know she’s already falling for him
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic."
— The Picture of Dorian Gray
PROLOGUE: THE PROCTOR
THE HONOR SOCIETY LEDGER
Account: Dean William Schmidt
Debt Owed: Protection rendered, evidence destroyed, reputation preserved.
Outstanding Balance: $30,000
Interest Accrued: One affair. Three lies. Zero remorse.
Status: Delinquent.
Collection Due: Immediately.
"No... please! Stop! I just need more time!"
Blood pooled beneath the dean's polished loafers, spreading across the concrete in lazy ribbons. I flicked my knife against the palm of my leather glove and sighed.
"Damn," I muttered. "You're a bleeder."
He folded over, clutching his stomach as crimson dripped from his mouth onto the four precise puncture wounds I'd carved into his thigh, my obsidian blade doing an excellent job of slicing right through.
One for each point of the M.
Beautiful, really.
So clean. Symmetrical.
I'd always appreciated precision of a good cut, it made the mess of everything else seem less…bloody. He trembled so hard his expensive watch rattled against the concrete.
"We covered this up for you once already, Mr. Schmidt." I crouched until we were eye level. "Thirty thousand dollars. We destroyed evidence I'd argue was priceless. Your wife got to live long enough to watch her son graduate without discovering what kind of man she'd married."
He whimpered. Good. Cry all you want.
"And yet..." I tilted my head. "You invited your mistress to the graduation party."
"I—I made a mistake." He stuttered. He’s an idiot.
"You made several." I slid the knife across his jaw. “And it seems to be a nasty habit.” I sheathed my knife. “Now, you have two options.”
His eyes lifted hopefully.
"You sell one of your classics, repay your debt, and handwrite a lovely thank-you letter to the Society for its continued generosity..."
I smiled.
"...or I walk you to your car, buckle you into the driver's seat, cut your brake lines, and send you toward the docks."
He paled but said nothing, like the dude’s actually thinking about it.
"You'll survive the impact." I glanced toward the water and shrugged. “For about a minute.” His breathing turned ragged. “Eh, knowing you.” I shrugged. “Maybe thirty seconds. Panic has a funny way of shortening a man’s lifespan.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. "They'll know," he whispered. "If I sell the car... they'll know."
I sighed. “So, you’d rather die, then?”
"No, damn it!" His head snapped up. "Just... let me think for a minute."
His gaze darted wildly around the empty warehouse before suddenly lighting with inspiration. "I have a daughter."
Silence. Wow. He’s serious.
"You can have her."
I blinked once. Twice. He was even more of an asshole than I figured.
"She's not even mine."
Silence stretched between us. He had to know that was a bad sign and yet he still kept on talking like he was somehow convincing me not to end his worthless life.
"I heard she's still a virgin." His grin widened, blood staining every tooth. "How much do those go for these days? Hell, I'll even—"
My fist connected before I realized I'd moved. Bone cracked on impact as pain shot up my arm. Worth it.
His head whipped sideways, and three teeth skidded across the concrete as he collapsed to the ground choking on his own blood.
I flexed my aching hand. My knuckles would swell making it difficult to pull my gloves off. How irritating. “For that.” I knelt beside him. “Your debt just doubled.”
He stared at me through one rapidly swelling eye. "W-why?"
I leaned close enough that only he could hear me. "Because now I have to save her."
His face finally registered something that had been missing all night.
Fear.
Real fear.
I rose, straightened my cuffs, and pulled a small leather ledger from inside my jacket.
With practiced strokes, I uncapped my fountain pen and wrote.
Account: William Schmidt
Balance: Outstanding.
Penalty: Immediate collection.