Greed
LUST
PRIDE
WRATH
ENVY
GLUTTONY
SLOTH
GREED
GREED
Copyright © 2019 Ker Dukey
Copyright © 2019 K Webster
Cover Design: All By Design
Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Word Nerd Editing
Formatting: Champagne Book Design
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Books by Ker Dukey and K Webster
Playlist
Dedication
Epigraph
Preface
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgments from Ker Dukey
Acknowledgements from K Webster
About Ker Dukey
About Author K Webster
Books by Ker Dukey
Books by K Webster
Pretty Little Dolls Series:
Pretty Stolen Dolls (Book 1)
Pretty Lost Dolls (Book 2)
Pretty New Doll (Book 3)
Pretty Broken Dolls (Book 4)
The V Games Series:
Vlad (Book 1)
Ven (Book 2)
Vas (Book 3)
KKinky Reads Collection:
Share Me
Choke Me
The Elite Seven Series:
Lust by Ker Dukey
Pride by J.D. Hollyfield
Wrath by Claire C. Riley
Envy by MN Forgy
Gluttony by K Webster
Sloth by Giana Darling
Greed by Ker Dukey and K Webster
Four Fathers Series:
Blackstone by Jessica Hollyfield
Kingston by Dani Rene
Pearson by K Webster
Wheeler by Ker Dukey
Four Sons Series:
Nixon by Ker Dukey
Hayden by J.D Hollyfield
Brock by Dani René
Camden by K Webster
Listen on Spotify here.
In Da Club by 50 Cent
X Gon’ Give it to Ya by DMX
Ruff Ryders’ Anthem by DMX
No Diggity by Blackstreet
Put it on Me by Ja Rule
2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted by 2Pac
Forgot About Dre by Dr. Dre and Eminem
Mo Money Mo Problems by The Notorious B.I.G, Mass, Diddy
River by Eminem and Ed Sheeran
Lose Yourself by Eminem
The Way I am by Eminem
Cleanin’ Out My Closet by Eminem
Kill You by Eminem
The Monster by Eminem and Rihanna
Beautiful Pain by Eminem and Sia
Walk on Water by Eminem and Beyoncé
Tragic Endings by Eminem and Skylar Grey
Need Me by Eminem and Pink
Love the Way You Lie by Eminem and Rihanna
Love on the Brain by Cold War Kids and Bishop Briggs
Bad at Love by Halsey
Dancing with Your Ghost by No Resolve
Crazy by Gnarls Barkley
Cupid Carries a Gun by Marilyn Manson
Stand by Me by Ki:Theory
Walk Through the Fire by Zayde Wolf and Ruelle
Sucker for Pain by Lil Wayne and Imagine Dragons
Can You Hold Me by NF
Glycerine by Bush
Dark Side by Bishop Briggs
Uninvited by Alanis Morissette
Him & I by G-Eazy and Halsey
Lips of an Angel by Hinder
Survival by Eminem
Not Afraid by Eminem
To the greedy girls who wanted not one sin, but all of them.
Greed, in the end, fails even the greedy.
—Cathryn Louis
t h e e l i t e s e v e n
Since 1942, The Elite Seven Society has created and guided influential leaders, molding the country into something better. This society was birthed by Malcom Benedict II, who wanted more for Americans. More wealth. More influence. More power. Some leaders have the skills, but not the influence, and that simply wasn’t fair according to Mr. Benedict. He invested his own money and time to construct a society that bred the best of the best, year after year.
But to be the best, you must be ruthless.
Good leaders make sacrifices. Sometimes the sacrifices are hard, but the rewards are plentiful. Mr. Benedict made sure to indulge these leaders with their utmost desires. A devout Catholic himself, he designed a society that rewarded his leaders with the sins that were frowned upon. If they were giving up love and happiness and joy for the betterment of the country, they deserved something in its stead.
Pride, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, and Lust.
Choosing leaders for this society takes intense focus. Only seven are to be selected, and the investment and time are showered upon the new seven chosen every four years. The university’s acting dean behaves as a liaison for the society, bringing the applicants to the predecessors so the selection may begin. The society members going out will bring forth a candidate the society votes on and approves.
After they are chosen, the initiates are given a token and an invitation to initiation. The initiation tests their character and ability to do what’s right for the betterment of the society. Once the initiates pass their test, they are discreetly branded with the mark of the society and groomed through challenges during the course of their elite education to breed them into the influential people they were meant to be.
Once in The Elite Seven, there is no getting out. The money and power are their reward. Should they choose to stray or break the rules, the society strips them of everything. Anything they once had will be removed. Opportunities will never arise. They will no longer have the support of the society. To this day, there have been no known occurrences of anyone from the society having to be banished. Every young man and woman aspire to be a part of the elite group whispered about amongst the privileged. Anyone who is anyone knows of the group and secretly hopes their son or daughter is selected, for good fortune is showered on the family for decades to come.
Micah
It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
A fire’s burned inside me since taking out Envy. As if I consumed the blaze that torched the church. Swallowed it whole like the fucking devil. The flames caress, lick
ing over old wounds, healing, changing, creating new life from the ashes.
We defeated an enemy who pretended to be one of us—an enemy who tried to take something he had no right taking. I want to replay his death over and over so I can live in the pain of his screams. Feel justice being served over and over.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
Now, we need to take out the final piece of the fucked up puzzle. There’s no rest for sinners.
We’re here to cut the head from the beast.
Finally.
Malcom Benedict.
His name alone sends a ripple of unease through my body. My heart roars like a war drum within the shelter of my ribs. The final battlefield is his office. These walls will become his tomb.
Dark, penetrating eyes slice through me with anger and disdain as we face off.
Beside me is Pride, shoulder to shoulder, a united front.
“Is this all you have? Do you not understand the rules?” Malcom growls, losing the cool mask he wears so well. “The order of things? You don’t get to defeat me. You’re all beneath me. I can’t be taken out by a bunch of boys pretending to be men. It’s going to take a little more than just the two of you.”
This pile of shit is the root of The Elite. His vines are buried so deep within us all, twisting, the thorns stabbing, bleeding us out. There’s no being free of him while there’s air in his lungs and his stone-cold heart still beats.
Pride stands, his chest heaving, an uncontained fury pouring from him in waves. His head turns, and his eyes meet mine, saying words he could never speak.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.
“They’re not alone.” A familiar voice slips through the air, saturating me in an icy dread. My heart pounds as they walk into the room from the open doorway. Another chess piece being moved across the board in this fucked up game The Elite play.
“Don’t be foolish,” Malcom snaps. “Pick the side you know is going to win. Haven’t we taught you anything?”
“There was never a choice. It was always them. It will always be them.”
The spark of the bullet firing makes my heart skip. It’s unexpected, cowardly. It happens too fast to be prevented. I can’t move. Everything slows as our limbs attempt to flee.
The bang, followed by a spurt as it finds purchase in soft flesh, makes the world dim.
Blood. Screams. Death. Death. Death.
I can’t fucking breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t…
It wasn’t supposed to end this way.
Micah
Becoming Greed
The beginning…
Long hair sways down her back, back and forth like a pendulum as she walks. She’s a little taller than I remember, and her posture is poised. Like one of the choir chicks here who learned not to slouch from birth. Unfortunately, it’s not the rugrat I want it to be. My eyes deceive me. I see them at every turn, but it’s all in my head. Evie moved away with her brother—my best friend, Mason—years ago. I was an only child until Mason and Evie came into my life and gave me the sibling relationship I never had. It was gone as quickly as it arrived.
The girl who holds my attention slips out the side door of the church, and my heart releases from the chokehold of my memory. I fucking miss them.
“Micah,” my mother whisper-yells, yanking out my earbud and narrowing her eyes.
“What?” I snap, smirking when Eminem lyrics spit out angrily, filling the deathly quiet cathedral.
It’s not often I bring them to church, but I couldn’t resist tormenting my mother for kicks. When I called and told her I was coming to Sunday mass, I could practically see the sweat break out across her brow. She’s too polite and eager to please to tell me no. It’s why I get away with so much shit. Why my dad gets away with so much shit.
It’s not like I’ll miss them. Moving out from beneath Dad’s thumb—now that I’m eighteen and can—will be the best thing to happen to me. I mean, he still controls me with his wallet, but at least he won’t be breathing down my neck, bitching about my music, griping about my life choices, and lecturing me on how to be important within the community like Mother, the kiddie doctor extraordinaire.
Fuck that.
I found an apartment close to campus way over the budget Dad allowed me. My father likes to assert some authority over me every now and again—his attempt at keeping me in line. He knows it doesn’t work and his will and ability to enforce it is non-existent, so the apartment will be mine as soon as he signs the check. The ace in my sleeve is why I’m sitting here bored out of my fucking skull. I plan to bring Mother to view it, telling her she can furnish it for me. Anything that makes her feel important in my life, and she’s putty in my hands.
A sigh pushes past my lips as I slouch back in the hard-as-fuck pew giving me a sore ass. What the fuck is taking the archbishop so long? I bet he’s in there getting his kicks from the sweet piece of ass who disappeared inside.
It’s not her.
“I’m going for a smoke. Stay alert and tell me if I miss anything,” I tease, receiving a backhanded slap from my mother on my ass as I slide past her and my father. The place is packed, but no one is talking. It’s eerie as hell.
I wave to a couple familiar girls from school, earning me death glares from their fathers. Now would probably be a bad time to tell them their little angels aren’t that angelic.
As soon as I step outside, the Louisiana heat wraps its deathly grip around my throat, suffocating me. Slumping against the side of the building, I pull out a joint and light it, filling the already thick air with a cloud of smoke as a sweat breaks out on my forehead. It’s muggy as fuck.
“That habit will put you in an early grave,” a serine voice chirps. It belongs to none other than Isabelle, the archbishop’s daughter.
She’s not my usual type, but has a waist that would look pretty with bruises and cute little tits perfect for biting. But she has a frightened bird vibe about her that’s not my kink. Too fragile for my liking. I bet the archbishop puts in extra prayers to keep the bad boys who like to break things away from her.
“We all gotta die of something, sweetheart,” I bite back, smirking.
“I suppose that’s true,” she says softly with a smile, sliding her cardigan up her shoulders, flinching when the fabric brushes over what looks like a cut.
“You okay?” I ask, raising a brow and nodding to her shoulder.
It’s visible, the curling of her spine, as she folds into herself.
“Yep. Fine.”
I’ve known her a long time, but I’ve never really gotten to know her. We don’t exactly run in the same circles. She prays all week or does boring church shit. I fucking party.
The archbishop keeps her on a tight-as-fuck leash from what I’ve been told. Poor girl could do with someone taking her out and showing her there’s more to life than this place. But I’m not the guy to do it.
“Was it you who went into the archbishop’s room? He’s late. Keeping everyone waiting isn’t very holy of him,” I jest, but it doesn’t go over as I expect. Her brows crash over her eyes and she bites anxiously on her bottom lip.
“Isabelle, I was joking. Are you sure you’re okay?” Damn, she’s really skittish.
Fidgeting, she laughs awkwardly, making me want to fuck off back inside. Boredom be damned.
“I’m fine,” she utters. “I needed some air.” She smiles at me. “The girl you saw was Evie, a sister of sorts, collecting her final belongings. She’s moved into the dorms at St. Augustine University.”
The girl you saw was Evie.
Evie…
Dropping my blunt to the ground, I race inside, straight down the aisle between the pews, ignoring the hissing coming from my mother telling me not to run in church.
My fucking chest feels like it’s going to crack down the middle as my hand hovers over the handle to the archbishop’s office.
Thud.
I push down on
the small metal knob. It gives way under my touch, swinging open from the inside.
It’s her.
It’s fucking her. The kid sister I inherited years ago when my best friend bulldozed into my life and shook it up.
She doesn’t see me at first and takes a step forward, stopping when her downcast eyes find the tips of my boots.
Her gaze crawls over my tall frame, and I inspect every inch of her in as she does the same to me to see how much she’s grown up in the last two years.
Petite frame. Pert nose. Light brown hair and gray eyes the same shade as Mason’s. Holy shit. It really is her.
“Excuse me, please,” she says without a flicker of recognition.
It stings.
I can’t speak. A lump forms in my throat. It dawns on me how much I’ve missed both her and Mason. I thought that would have been mutual. I was all they had.
She moves past me, and it takes me a few seconds for my brain to register what the hell just happened. Like my ass is on fire, I chase after her. Before I get close, my father’s hand snaps out, grabbing my wrist as I pass him.
“Micah,” he warns.
All eyes of the full church are watching us. Ripping my arm from his grip, I jog outside to find her hurrying toward a car.
My feet skid to a stop when I see the evil foster mother from hell in the driver’s seat. What the fuck is going on?
“Evie!” I call out. Her shoulders tense before she turns toward me, her eyes glistening with tears.
“Go away, Micah,” she growls, her eyes darting to the car, then back to me. Pleading. Begging. I don’t fucking get it. The click of the car door opening makes her exhale a shaky breath.
“Evelyn,” the evil bitch croons. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Evie croaks out, shaking her head so quickly, she almost loosens it from her shoulders.
I sense someone behind me before a palm rests on my shoulder. My father being a nosey fuck as usual.
A sly smile upturns the bitch’s lips.