Mine

Tate- 18

Moments passed as I waited for Ian to return from helping the rest of the girls get safely back to their rooms. I cleaned up the girls’ blood from the stage and then the glass from Hiram’s outbursts. This isn’t the job I imagined I’d have within The Order when I was a kid.

I wanted the respect, the authority, and most of all, the power that came with being a made man.

The Bonemen were feared and everyone respected them back then. From what I saw, they were never treated like this by their leaders because those were made men.

I still haven’t been made, but neither has Hiram. Ian had once theorized that no one was being made anymore. That it gave too much power to weak men who didn’t deserve it; I didn’t believe that then and sure as hell don’t now. There’s always someone above someone else. Above Bonemen are the men who are made for, by, and under The Order.

All this time I’ve been looking to please Hiram when I should be looking to whomever sits above him—made.

Ian bursts into the room like a bat out of hell, having lost his suit jacket at some point.

“This is nuts. The place over there is huge. I see why Hiram didn’t want us over there.”

“You mean because he’s a controlling asshole?”

Ian rolls his eyes, slipping his perfectly fitted jacket back onto his brand shoulders.

“Tate, they have their own rooms and they are nice, bro.”

“So?”

“So we should stay here. Be closer to the girls in case Hiram loses his s**t again. If their rooms can be that nice, ours can be too.”

“You saw our rooms already.”

“I saw yours, I never went to mine.”

Although I trust Ian with my life, I know he can be a bit materialistic at times and that his life within The Order has always suited him. He’ll never be more than a Boneman; happy to serve me throughout my journey. He’ll never be made having already taken his life oath to serve.

As I followed Ian, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He had sworn to serve me and protect me, but I know that his dreams and aspirations would never come to fruition; it feels wrong somehow. He’s a talented Boneman and he does have skills that could be put to better use with me, but he would always be bound to The Order.

I sigh, feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. How could I ask him to give up everything he has ever known, everything he has ever wanted?

Truth is, I can’t.