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I’ve been sharing my novella Dominic chapter by chapter every week. You may already know Dominic (aka Tyson) from The Seven Chambers Series (specifically Stolen Flame). This is his story of how he came to be employed at The Chamber. Please sign up for my newsletter to continue reading Dominic! 

*The following contains explicit content, 18+ readers, please. Also, this is a draft copy which has not been edited for publication.


The Men of the Seven Chambers Series

A Novella

by D.W. Marshall

Chapter Four


After I don’t know how many hours the plane touches down. I dozed off a few times. That is not something I do. Sleep makes you vulnerable. I don’t know Mason. When I glance over, he is knocked out. Hmph.

“Sorry about this, but in case you change your mind it is important that you do not know where you were,” Mason says as someone blindfolds me.

I am led off the plane, down steps, and into a car.

“You take your security very seriously,” I say.

I note the air feels cool and crisp. Refreshing.

I count twenty minutes in the car before I am ushered out. The idiot driver doesn’t realize that playing the radio is an easy way to gauge time. It is not the most accurate, unless you know the exact length of the song, but you can get a pretty good idea. When the car stops I images 2assume we have arrived. I am ushered out of the car, and inside after a short walk. My blindfold is removed inside.

“Nice digs,” I say.

“Thanks,” Mason says. “Leave us,” He says and the three men that were accompanying us scatter.

“Welcome to The Chamber! Come this way.”

The place is old world mansion. Nothing that I think exists in America, so I can only guess that we aren’t in America. I know Hawaii to say, New York or even Michigan, would be a long-ass flight, but I believe we were on that plane long enough to cross international waters. I mean, I was loopy as hell, so I am not sure. But this, this shit is regal. The room I am standing in has a domed ceiling with crown molding weaved into intricate designs. Every five or so feet hangs a heavy with at least a hundred candles chandelier. The walls are painted with muraled marble. Heavy red drapes announce entryways throughout the long hall. It feels like I stepped into a different century. Definitely not in the U.S.

I follow Mason through one of the draped entrances down a dark hallway. There is no grand art or chandeliers. The walls are lined on each side with sconces. There are two men standing at the entrance of a room at the end of the hallway. They stand with military postures. “At ease,” I say more for curiosity. Are they really trained or is this for show? Both men relax their stance, a good sign.

“I am Tyson. I will be the new head of security here. Mason has told me that you all are a strong and competent crew, so I am happy to come aboard,” I say, shaking hands with both men. Not waiting to be introduced by Mason, because I am in charge of these men, I need them to feel that from the beginning.

“I’m Dante,” the man with a shaved head. African-American based on his American accent. Well-built, only five-ten. Firm handshake, good eye contact.

“They call me Sonny,” the other guard offers his hand. He too has a strong handshake and maintains eye contact with me. Sonny, I would guess is from Australia based on the burr of his voice. He is nearly as tall as me, with blond hair, cut short, and blue eyes.

“Nice to meet you both,” I say as I continue on into the security area. The room is huge. At least fifty-by-fifty, a box. That is what I will refer to it as from here on out.


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*Draft copy which has not been edited for publication

© Copyright 2016 D.W. Marshall