26. Sam
Sam
I never wanted to be part of a fraternity.
Befriending half the student population because of the Greek letters on my jacket never appealed to me.
My father always insists that networking is key to any venture in life, and my pledging was always meant to work in his favor—after all, how better could the Wright Heir be in service to his father’s fortune than by spreading his seed all over campus?
But rather than sow my oats in the fertile female population, I traded in smiles and good deeds instead, eager to avoid making enemies and keep my four years of college life as simple as possible.
For the most part, my strategy has worked. I’ve only dated a handful of women, and I’ve been keeping myself open for when Mercy finally decides that she wants to be more than friends.
The fact that she’s here tonight proves that the wait has been worth it. Everyone’s being nice to her—all of my brothers in the frat and their girls, the pledges, even the Runners, whose sole job is to keep the liquor flowing, are trying to keep a cold drink in her hand at all times.
I have to intervene, of course, and offer her untapped bottles and clean drinks, but I make sure to tip the Runners nicely.
All in all, it’s a really good start to the night.
“Let me know when you need some air,” I tell Mercy, leaning over her shoulder so that she can hear me. “We can head out back or up to my room.”
She smiles at me, and I wrap my arm around her waist and press a kiss to the top of her head.
Having her with me is a dream come true.
If every day were like this, Greek life might not be so bad.
Mercy could sit with the other girls at all of my football games, we could walk hand-in-hand at all of the seasonal bonfires and events, and she’d be my partner in the holiday toy drive.
While one of my brothers regales us with a story about a gnarly party foul from last month, I tune him out to imagine my future with Mercy.
We wouldn’t have to spend all of our time on campus—her family’s property is just as good, if not better than, anything here.
Plus, it’s privately owned and secluded.
We could sit under the stars at night without a single interruption, drinking hot cocoa and kissing to keep warm.
I’m so lost in the fantasy that I miss the drunken conga line circling too close, and when someone trips, warm beer sloshes all over my back, drenching my shirt in suds.
Someone cheers, and the whole room chugs their drinks.
Mercy covers her ears, laughing despite the chaos. “Are all parties this loud?”
“Usually, yeah.” I tip the rest of my beer back and throw my empty cup into a trash can.
“But tonight’s pregame for the Championship on Saturday.
Everyone’s supposed to get hammered.” I peel my shirt off my back and toss it onto the growing pile on the floor.
House rules are that if you get sloshed, you take it off.
A few of my teammates slap my back as they pass by.
“Wright!”
“Henson!”
Max Henson, our only Running Back on the team, swings by, letting his drink spill over the edge as he slams to a stop with our group.
Mercy dodges just in time, but she bumps into the girl behind her and spills their drink.
“Sorry!” she cries, stepping into my side and hooking her fingers in my empty belt loop.
“No apology necessary!” Max grins, fist bumping me. “We’re all eager to take our clothes off.”
Sasha, one of the neighboring sorority girls, rolls her eyes. “Speak for yourself.” Her shirt is damp and her shoes are ruined, but she hasn’t stripped at all. “I’m just waiting for Reaper to arrive.”
That turns Mercy’s head. “Reaper’s coming?”
My stomach drops. I should have anticipated that someone would bring it up.
“When there’s a par-tay, Reaper comes to slay puss-ay,” Max cheers, laughing. “Haven’t seen him yet, Sash, but don’t get your hopes up. The Betas had a party last week, and he never showed. Rumor is that he’s wiped.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sasha murmurs, sipping her drink.
“What do you want with Reaper?” Mercy’s eyebrows pinch together. “Unless you’re, um?—”
“Looking to get laid?” Sasha smiles kindly. “Yeah, babe, Reaper’s the best dick there is. No offense, boys.”
Max raises his beer. “None taken. He’s a legend.”
The huddle beside ours overhears our conversation and mixes with our group, eager to talk gossip. “But he doesn’t smash twice,” one of the girls says, a wistful look in her eye. “So you’re out of luck, Sasha.”
I try to keep my expression even throughout the conversation, but Mercy isn’t as skilled at keeping a straight face. She blushes down to her roots and chugs the rest of her drink. “I think I’m ready for that air,” she murmurs, tugging me by my belt loop.
“Yes, ma’am.” Tossing her empty bottle into the trash, I lead her away from the crowd. Or at least, I try to. The room is packed now that the party’s in full swing, and we have to shuffle alongside multiple warm bodies to get anywhere near the sliding porch door.
“Sam!”
Shit.
Ignoring Abby’s voice, I pull Mercy into the dining room. Giant plastic containers filled with hunch punch cover the entire table. “Don’t drink that,” I warn Mercy, steering her through the room. “It’ll knock you on your ass. Plus, it tastes like shit.”
One of the freshmen ladling the drinks takes offense and tosses a full cup at me, unaware that I’m an upperclassman in his own frat. The alcohol arcs through the air, but the man’s aim is shit. Bright red punch splashes over not one, not two, but three girls in the room. One of whom being my date.
“Shit! Sorry, bro!”
The two regulars smack him hard on the arm and back of his head, but Mercy stands there like a deer in headlights.
Anger pulses through my veins as I walk over to him and smack the cup out of his hands.
“Apologize. Now. ” Grabbing his shirt collar, I drag him in front of my girlfriend and push him down onto his knees.
“Tell her you’re sorry for being an idiot.
” I don’t even know this kid’s name, but he damn near soils himself.
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.” He glances at the red stains on her skirt. “Or ruin your dress.”
“That’s coming out of your wallet,” I tell the Freshman, smacking his shoulder. “Get a mop and clean up your mess.”
“Yes, sir!”
While he runs away, I rub Mercy’s ruffled skirt between my fingers. The punch is sticky as it dries. “I have something you can change into upstairs.” Regret hits me square in the chest, and I realize how foolish I was to bring her here. “I can take you home.”
Mercy hooks her arm over my shoulder and drags me down to her height. Brushing her lips over my ear, she murmurs, “The last place I want to be right now is home. I’m fine.” She presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “It’s just a dress.”
“A beautiful dress,” I counter, hauling her against me. “I hate that it’s ruined. I’ll buy you another one.”
“It’s one of a kind.”
That’s even worse.
She lingers near my face, blushing as she glances at my lips. “Take me upstairs?”
Gladly.
Lifting her into my arms, I grin as she squeals, clinging to my neck as I carry her across the house.
We catch eyes all around the room, a few knowing frat members lifting their drinks or whooping as we pass, while some of the women whisper amongst themselves and glance around the room.
One of them waves her hand overhead, but I don’t speak girl code, so I shrug it off and keep moving.
Despite people parting the sea for us to pass, it takes a while to reach the stairs.
By then, sweat trickles down my back, sticky with beer, slick with sweat, but I hardly care because of how lucky I am to have Mercy in my arms. I take the stairs two at a time, eager to lock her away in my bedroom for the night.
“Can you reach the key in my pocket?”
Mercy pats my pockets and shoves her hand inside one of them, but she comes up empty. “You don’t have a key.”
I definitely had one earlier.
Frowning, I set her down on the floor and gently push her aside. “Someone might be in there,” I admit slowly, hating the way Mercy’s face falls. “Don’t worry, I’ll check. Wait here.”
She grabs my arm to stop me. “What if it’s dangerous?”
I blink at her. “This is a frat party, baby, not a horror movie.” Cupping her cheek, I press a gentle kiss to her lips, sighing at how soft and sweet they are. Damn, I’m gonna need another taste. “But I love that you care.”
A chorus of shouting echoes from downstairs, with a group of men chanting Reaper, Reaper, Reaper!
Mercy’s eyes widen, and she glances over her shoulder at the stairwell, likely thinking the same thing I am. If Reaper is here, there’s only one person he’s looking for, and it sure as shit ain’t me.
“Hide,” we both say in unison. I grab Mercy’s arm and start to open my bedroom door, only to pause partway inside.
A group of girls giggles as they bound up the stairs, heading for the upstairs bathroom.
I don’t have much of a choice; we either step inside my bedroom and face whoever is in there—not Reaper, clearly, so chances are, I can take them in a fight—or we head back downstairs and try to sneak out the back.
“I’m looking for a girl named Mercy!”
My blood runs cold as a chorus of upstairs, man, go get her! clashes against, she’s with someone! I’m free, Reaper! Pick me!
Heavy footfalls sound on the stairs seconds later, and I push open my bedroom door. Hands grab me from inside, and I’m pulled hard, stumbling blindly into the darkness.
Mercy shrieks, clawing at my arm as we’re suddenly pulled apart. “Sam!”
A girl I don’t know laughs behind me in the hallway. “We’ll take care of her, honey!” Shoes scuffle across the floor, and Mercy’s muffled screams fill my ears.
“Yeah, we’ll make sure Reaper breaks her in real good.”
No!
I punch the air in front of me, colliding with someone’s jaw.
“Ouch! Fucking hell, Sam!” Whoever I punched stumbles backwards and slams into my dresser. At the same time, my bedroom door slams shut and the lock slides into place. “We’re doing you a favor.”
I don’t give a shit about any favors. I spin around and lunge for the door, but two sets of hands pull me back this time, one wrapping around my shoulders and collarbone while the other grabs my arms. “Get the fuck off of me!”
“Cool it, man. Jesus Christ.”
The lights flick on, and I squint in the harsh light. The fraternity president crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the door—my only way out. “Having a good evening, Sam?”
“I was ,” I shout, “until you fucking ambushed me! What the hell, Rhodes!” His two right-hand men wrestle to keep me contained, but I’m not fucking having it. I’m not giving up this fight. “Let me go!”
“Calm down,” President Rhodes grunts. “It’ll be over soon.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Her Reaping.” He cracks his knuckles. “If there’s anything left when he’s done with her, you can have sloppy seconds.”
“Fuck you!” Fury and fear collide inside my heart, making it beat double-time. “He doesn’t rape people, so you’re shit out of luck. She won’t say yes.”
“I have it on good authority that she’s willing.”
What?
He must see the confusion on my face because his shell cracks.
“You said so yourself.” Pulling out his cell phone from his pocket, he opens a video recording from a few hours ago.
I recognize it immediately—the rows of graves, the tumbling autumn leaves, Mercy standing in her pretty dress while my hand’s on her chin, holding her still as we stand in front of my truck.
Every ounce of fight in my body drains away, replaced by icy dread. “Where did you get this?” Does Reaper have cameras outside, too? Why would he send anyone this?
The video plays, beginning at the exact moment I tell Mercy to bounce on Reaper’s dick.
I wince, hearing the raw anger and hurt in my voice.
Then I explain in detail what I expect Reaper to do to her, and Mercy replies by saying that I can’t scare her.
The recording ends, and Rhodes puts his phone back in his pocket.
“You looked angry, Sam. When you showed up with her tonight, we figured you were too hung up on her to break things off.”
“We’re doing you a favor,” one of the VPs says, repeating himself from earlier. “She’s trash, Sam. She’s been leading you on for years.”
“You’ve been wound up tight. You need to let her go.”
“Once she fucks Reaper,” Rhodes joins in, “she won’t want you anymore.”
“Do you hear how crazy you all sound?” I grit my teeth and fight against the VPs, but they lift just as many weights as I do.
It’s a struggle to move six inches, let alone six feet.
“I’m not letting him touch her. Get the fuck off of me!
” They don’t know anything about our situation.
Mercy needs me to be there. She asked me to be there.
As much as it kills me, I have to stand next to her and watch her get railed.
I need to make sure that she makes it out alive.
“Why don’t you date Abby instead?” Rhodes genuinely looks concerned, but for all the wrong reasons. “She’s cute. Perky tits. Won’t shut up about you.”
“I don’t want Abby!”
The only person I want is being held against her will at a party that I dragged her to, completely unaware that I’m trapped and can’t get to her. She’s going to think that I abandoned her. That I let this happen.
That it’s all my fault.