Bitter Reign (Ashen Grove University #4)

Chapter 1 Jasper

ONE

JASPER

Confetti and balloons fall from the ceiling as the presidential election is called. It’s ironic, considering no one in this room actually thought he wasn’t going to win. Tears and cheers are exclaimed throughout as people chant his name.

“Black. Black. Black.”

But I can’t feel any emotion. My eyes are locked on Mara, standing beside her father as he makes his way up to the podium with a poised smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Thank you! Thank you all! Tonight is a historic night...”

The usual pomp and platitudes wash over the room, but I’m too busy scanning the line of black-suited bodyguards flanking the stage. There are at least six of them, all stone-faced.

Instantly, I recognize one of them as Omega Chi alumni, Connor Hayes. He graduated two years ago from our fraternity. I remember the distinctive scar on his chin from an old hazing stunt.

Seeing him here, guarding President Black, makes my blood run cold.

The Syndicate’s muscle really is Omega Chi.

My hands curl into fists. I glance at Dredyn, but his eyes are locked on Mara, chest heaving like a bull about to charge.

I reach out and grip his forearm in a silent plea, but his muscles are coiled steel beneath my fingers.

“Easy ...” I sign quickly with my free hand, hoping he catches it in his peripheral vision.

“... and as we look toward a bright future,” President Black continues, voice carrying over the crowd, “I have a personal announcement to share.” My stomach drops.

Here it is—the other shoe. Dredyn sucks in a sharp breath, and Talon straightens up, green eyes narrowing under a furrowed brow.

A strange hush falls over the hall, anticipation rippling through the supporters.

The President turns to smile at Mara and a tall blond man at her side—Chase Harrington.

His arm is looped loosely around Mara’s back.

How did I miss him until now? Chase stands polished in a tailored suit, the very picture of a prince from a political fairytale.

I catch a flash of his smug grin as he glances at Mara.

Dredyn’s breathing turns into a quiet growl, and I tighten my hold on his arm.

“With great joy,” President Black proclaims, “I announce the engagement of my daughter, Mara Black, to Chase Harrington.”

A burst of cheers and camera flashes detonate across the room. For a split second, I forget to breathe. On stage, Mara’s smile wavers. I see it falter—the slight shake of her head, the way her eyes go wide with hurt and panic before she forces her expression back into that graceful mask.

But I saw it.

Dredyn and Talon both saw it.

Mara’s terrified.

She’s trying not to show it to the crowd, but we know her too well.

Her glassy eyes flicker over the sea of people until they find us at the back.

I swear she locks eyes with Dredyn for the briefest moment.

Even from this distance, agony blazes in that look.

It’s like a silent apology... or a cry for help.

“Fuck...” Dredyn’s voice cracks out hoarsely, raw with fury.

It’s barely audible over the applause, but I feel the word more than hear it.

In an instant, he lunges forward. He’s moving before I can even think, shoving through the throng of onlookers, eyes fixed on the stage and the man with his arm around Mara.

I react on pure instinct. Not here, not now. I grab Dredyn from behind, wrapping one arm across his chest and planting my feet.

He struggles like a man possessed. “Let go!” he roars, baring his teeth. He tries to surge ahead but I haul him back with all my strength. My heels skid on the marble floor as I fight to hold him.

“Dredyn, stop!” Talon hisses sharply, darting in front of us. His hands press against Dredyn’s chest, aiding me in forcing our friend back.

Above the chaos, I glimpse movement on stage. The speech is over and Mara is being whisked toward the side stairs, Chase’s hand clamped around her arm.

Dredyn thrashes harder and nearly breaks my grip. I grit my teeth, muscles straining.

He’s a big guy, pure muscle and wrath, but I won’t let him do something that gets him shot, or worse.

“Get off me, Jas!” he snarls.

His elbow clips my ribs as he bucks. Pain blooms where he made contact, but I cling to him, tightening my arm across his shoulders in a makeshift hold and grunt sharply, a wordless command to stand down.

“Think, Dre, think!” Talon snaps, eyes flashing. He moves right in front of Dredyn’s face while I restrain him. “You can’t charge a pack of Syndicate goons. Not here, not now. They’ll bury you.”

That’s when two suited bodyguards push through the crowd toward us.

Connor is one of them, towering and broad, and he recognizes us instantly.

“Easy, boys,” he says, raising his hands in a show of calm authority.

He steps forward with another man flanking him.

I know that one, too—Marcus Wu, Omega Chi class of last year, now wearing an earpiece and a hardened stare.

My stomach churns at the sight of these familiar faces turned enforcers.

It’s like seeing brothers transformed into strangers. No... not strangers, just Syndicate grunts.

Dredyn snarls at them, but I still have him locked tight. His chest heaves under my arm, and I can feel the thunder of his heart even through his jacket. He’s seething, ready to explode again if given the chance. My own heart is hammering just as hard, anger burning under my skin.

My hands itch to fight, wrath coiled inside me, but I force myself to hold steady. If this comes to blows, we’ll be swarmed by security in seconds. We’d lose, and then we’d lose Mara for good.

“Smart move—keeping him restrained,” Connor says to me, his tone almost chiding, as if we’re just some unruly kids. His gaze flicks to Dredyn’s murderous glare. “Last thing you want tonight is an assault charge … or worse.”

“We’re just here to celebrate the President’s victory,” Talon lies smoothly, though his voice drips with sarcasm. “No trouble from us, Connor.” He uses the guard’s first name deliberately, reminding the man of who we all are... who we used to be, together—Omega Chi brothers.

“Go home. Cool off,” Connor says, eyes shifting between us. Up close, I can see new lines on his face. “You should know when you’re outmatched.” The condescension makes my blood boil, but I stay silent, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. Talon gives a thin, mirthless smile.

“Outmatched? Funny,” Talon says quietly. “I remember when you were the one teaching us never to back down.”

Marcus steps between Connor and Talon, head tilted.

“This isn’t a college rivalry, kid. This is bigger than AGU.

” He reaches into his suit jacket, and for a second, I bristle, thinking he’s going for a weapon.

Instead, he pulls out a small black business card.

He holds it out to us between two fingers.

Dredyn actually recoils a fraction—maybe surprised that it isn’t a gun?

I exchange a wary look with Talon and release Dredyn completely as he seems under control. I take the card from Marcus’s hand.

There’s nothing on the front but a single phone number embossed in silver on the black background. No name, no logo. I flip it over. A blood-red image is printed there—a dagger plunged through an open book, crimson blood dripping from the pages of the book.

The symbol of the Syndicate.

My father’s voice echoes in my memory, lecturing about “knowledge wielded with deadly intent.” The book and dagger—the Syndicate’s calling card. Equal parts intellect and violence.

“Give us a call if you need something,” Marcus says, voice flat, eyes unreadable.

Need.

We all know what that implies. If we want Mara, if we want anything, it’ll be on the Syndicate’s terms now.

My hands shake with barely-restrained wrath as I slide the card into my pocket.

I have to, because I’m seconds from ripping it in half otherwise.

But a small, rational part of me knows we might need that number.

Dredyn’s lips peel back in a snarl. “Go to hell,” he spits at the guards. His whole frame is as taut as a bowstring; I can feel him trembling again under my hand.

Connor’s expression doesn’t so much as flinch. He simply adjusts his suit jacket and replies, “Already been. It’s not so bad once you’re running the place.”

Talon’s fingers dig harder into Dredyn’s shoulder, cautioning him not to take the bait. I give a short whistle under my breath—our old signal to pull back. Dredyn’s gaze snaps to me. I meet his eyes with a hard stare and quickly sign, at my side, “Later.” We’ll deal with this later.

He exhales, a shudder of pure hatred, but nods once. The fight hasn’t left his posture, but at least he’s listening.

Satisfied we’re not about to cause more trouble this second, Connor and Marcus back off. “Good boys,” Marcus mutters, and I have to fist my hands to keep from wiping that smug look off his face.

They escort us toward the exit, staying a few paces behind, like we’re unruly guests being seen out. The crowd is still buzzing with excitement about the engagement, most of them oblivious to our little confrontation in the back.

At the grand double doors, Connor leans in one last time. “For what it’s worth... walk away. You can’t fight this.”

Walk away? Not a chance in hell.

We step out into the cool night, and the doors shut behind us, cutting off the din of celebration inside.

The three of us stand there on the sidewalk, beneath a flickering streetlamp, shaking with adrenaline and rage.

Dredyn immediately yanks away from our hold and paces, running his hands through his messy black hair.

“Fuck!” he shouts into the night, voice echoing off the nearby buildings.

I watch him; he looks like a wolf who just had his mate ripped away.

Talon exhales a long breath and straightens his jacket, trying to regain his composure.

Under the lamplight, his face is pale with anger, freckles standing out stark on his skin.

“They think they can just... pawn her off like some bargaining chip,” he mutters bitterly, eyes flicking to me. “He killed your sister, Jasper!”

I pull the black card back out and stare at the blood-red dagger stabbing the book.

Dredyn practically rips the card from my fingers to view it up close. “Bastards,” he growls. For a moment, I fear he’ll tear it in half, but he doesn’t. Instead, he crushes it in his fist, shaking. When he looks up at us, there’s fire in his eyes.

“They think they can scare us off? Take Mara and just... just own her?”

“They want a war?” Talon says slowly, a cruel smile ghosting on his lips. “We’ll give them a goddamn war.”