Summary: Gallagher has another exchange, except this time they're going to Blackthorne, where they uncover some interesting secrets about one Mr. Zachary Goode.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gallagher Girls. Credit goes to Ally Carter.

A/N: This is the beginning to the exchange fic I told you guys about in my Author's Note in 'Back to Gallagher.' Enjoy

PROLOGUE

Blackthorne Institute for Boys, the Tombs— 3 YEARS AGO

The large man's deep voice reverberated in the dank, empty cave.

"Do you hereby accept the challenges and responsibility and choose of your own free will and decision to join the Circle of Cavan, forever binding you to the Brotherhood of Ieoseph Cavan?"

He looked down at the cowering boys in front of him, his cold gaze showing no mercy while he sized them up, trying to distinguish the useful from the useless.

The adolescent boys weren't told the truth— that is, the true nature of the Circle; only that great praise and glory would fall on them should they join its ranks. But trust wasn't an issue with the Circle of Cavan. The criminal organization was made up of double agents, triple agents, retired officers, young spies-to-be, and more. As far as anyone important was concerned, trust was just an idea, a myth if you will.

Only one of the eight boys knew what the Circle truly was. He stood proudly now, facing the big man in front of him.

He smirked; it was his signature—his mark.

From his robe, the large man drew a ceremonial dagger. The poor candlelight glinted off its polished surface in the dank cavern. Moving down the line, one by one, the boys recited the oath, binding themselves to the Circle, and held out their arm. One by one a deep gash was made, each boy's blood spilled on the cave floor where hundreds of others have made this very oath.

When his turn came the boy held out his arm and swore, "I hereby accept the challenges and responsibility and choose of my own free will and decision to join the Circle of Cavan, forever binding me to the Brotherhood of Ieoseph Cavan," his voice ringing with confidence, echoing.

The man smiled as he slit the dagger into the boy's arm. The pain was excruciating, but the boy felt nothing.

"Very well," said the man, his eyes resting on this last boy, glinting with interest. He spoke to the boy, singling him out. "Welcome to the Circle of Cavan… the Circle of your fathers."

Thirteen-year-old Zachary Goode smirked up at the man. Let the Games begin.