Chapter 11 Dredyn
ELEVEN
DREDYN
We let Mara shower in peace, and then helped her change into some clothes that I had my mom help me purchase for her. It took just five minutes snuggling with Jasper before she was fast asleep.
That’s when Talon and I decided to go downstairs. With the two of them asleep, we know that we can do what we have to, without their emotional burden.
The Omega Chi Kappa house is mostly updated, except the basement. Maybe because it doubles as a private fighting ring down here, I’m not sure.
The bulb over the stairs flickers when I hit the bottom step.
And Chase Harrington is right where we left him.
One eye is swollen, jaw cracked in three different shades of purple. His lip is split, his shirt is gone, and there’s blood crusted along his chest.
Oh, and probably the cum from when Mara shoved it down his throat.
That’s my favorite part.
See, Chase Harrington is nothing without the suit, without Daddy’s name floating around his head like a halo. When he’s down here, he’s just another dumb bastard tied to a chair in my basement.
And, yeah...
He looks small.
I stop in front of him and look him over. “Morning, sunshine,” I say. “Enjoy your nap?”
He lifts his head, eyes narrowing against the light. “I’ve had worse nights,” he rasps.
“Worse than being stripped, tied to a bolted chair, and left under the Omega Chi Kappa house?”
His smile is slow and ugly. “You really think this scares me, Steele?
“Scare you?” I echo, dragging another chair across the floor. I flip it around and straddle it in front of him, forearms resting on the back. “No. If you were smart enough to be scared, we wouldn’t be here.”
His gaze flicks to my hands, then back to my face. “Let me guess. This is the part where you threaten me until I cry. Maybe fire-hair dude records it for his highlight reel?”
“You give yourself too much credit. Nobody wants to watch you.”
“You sure? Because last I checked, you three love a crowd. Underground fights. Parties. Mara walking around with a leash and collar around her neck. You love making a spectacle out of everything. You’re vile.”
“Let me be clear,” I say. “You’re not here because we’re bored. You’re not a prop, you’re a problem that I’m trying to figure out how to get rid of.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t want to get rid of me. You want answers.”
Talon steps into my peripheral, then leans against one of the concrete pillars.
“Cute, you catch on fast for a man who’s going to be bleeding out soon.”
Chase shifts in the chair, testing the ropes again. “You two really think you’re kings down here? You think tying me up in your frat dungeon makes you dangerous?”
I tilt my head.
“Dungeon?” I repeat. “Relax, Prince Charming. If this were a dungeon, you’d already be screaming.”
He swallows thickly. “You’re children playing mob boss. You don’t even know who you pissed off.”
Talon laughs softly, then says, “Then help us out. Who exactly is going to be upset with us, Chase?”
Chase hesitates.
And that’s all I need.
“You get scared when we talk about him.”
Chase’s breath stutters.
Talon pushes off the pillar, circling.
“So, here’s how this works,” Talon says conversationally. “You give us a name, or a face, or even a whiff of a direction, and maybe you only lose one limb today.”
Chase’s eyes flash. “And then what?” he snaps. “You march into some mansion and gun him down? You think the Syndicate just... ends? You’re not that stupid, are you?”
“Oh, we’re definitely stupid, just not in the way you’re hoping.”
He scoffs. “You find him, and then what? It’s not like you can kill him. You can’t even touch him.”
I step back and crack my neck. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.”
Chase squints at me.
“We don’t have to kill him,” I say.
Talon hums his approval.
“You don’t cut off the head of something like the Syndicate,” I continue. “You rot it. You fracture it. You starve it. You make its people start eating each other alive.”
Chase stares.
I tap his cheek lightly. “And the best part?” I lean in again. “You’re going to be the one who shows us where to look for him.”
His fear blooms fully then.
“You don’t understand what you’re messing with. He’s not just a man.”
I grin.
“Great,” I say. “Neither am I.”
Talon exhales slowly through his nose. “You know what I hate about you?” Talon pushes off the pillar, stopping right in front of Chase. “It’s not the fact that you’re a murderer—I’m actually very flexible on that as a character trait.”
Chase swallows.
Talon crouches so they’re eye level. “It’s the confidence,” Talon goes on. “This delusion that you’re untouchable because some old man you’ve never even met signed your permission slip to exist.”
Chase wets his lips. “You don’t get to moralize—”
Talon slaps him, and his head swings sideways, the corner of his mouth now split. “I get to do whatever the fuck I want right now,” Talon says quietly.
He grips Chase’s jaw, turning his face back to face him. “You think power is inherited?” Talon murmurs. “You think it’s a name on a ledger?” He leans closer. “Power is proximity to violence, and you are drowning in it. You killed Evangeline and thought that would save you,” he snaps.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chase sneers. “I never wanted to kill Evie, I had to. Politics get messy, Steele. You of all people should understand that. Your precious Mara will, too, when she’s First Daughter. She’s not going to stay your little campus obsession forever.”
Talon slams both hands onto the chair’s arms, boxing him in.
“Say her name again, and I’ll take your tongue first.”
Chase goes silent.
Talon straightens, rolling his shoulders. “You want us to believe you’re shaking because of some faceless god in a suit?” He laughs softly. “Here’s the problem, Chase. You’re not protecting him.”
Chase frowns.
“You’re protecting you—your future, your legacy.” He pauses, then continues. “You’re scared because if we find him, that all blows up in your face. You go bye-bye.”
He grips Chase’s hair and tilts his head back. “A disposable little failure who killed the wrong girl and thought blood would make him somebody.”
Chase gasps in pain.
“You don’t matter to the Syndicate. You’re not a prince, you’re a pawn.” Talon growls. Then, he releases him with a shove.
Chase pants.
“You really think he cares if you live?” Talon continues. “Or die? Or rot in a hole under a frat house where frat boys turn you into a scavenger hunt of missing body parts?”
Chase’s voice cracks. “He’ll come for you.”
“Oh? Who, exactly?”
“You’re not protected just because you’re Omega Chi officers.”
Talon glances back at me. “You hear that?”
I nod. “Delusion?”
“Full-blown,” Talon confirms, then he turns back to Chase. “They won’t come for us,” Talon says gently. “If we cut your throat right now, the Syndicate wouldn’t even pause mid-sip.”
Chase’s breathing grows ragged.
“You really don’t get it,” Talon murmurs. “You were never chosen.”
Chase shakes his head. “No—no, I—”
Talon reaches out, his thumb pressing into an open wound on Chase’s chest.
Chase screams.
“You want to be important so badly. So, let’s make you useful.” He glances at me. “Dredyn.”
I push off the chair.
Talon doesn’t look away from Chase as he says, “Go get my knife. Let’s start cutting bullshit off him, one piece at a time.”
I walk to the workbench under the stairs. The drawer opens and tools blink up at me under fluorescent lights. “You ever notice how Psi Theta men never break their own things?”
“I think you’ve lived your whole life with someone cleaning up after you. You break something? My daddy fixes it. Hurt someone? Talon’s daddy spins the story in court. Ruin a girl’s life?”
I pick up what I want and turn toward the both of them just as Talon says, “Jasper’s daddy buries it.”
I walk over to both of them, handing Talon the saw. “What’s your daddy going to do when he receives my gift?”
Talon takes the saw from my hand, his fingers tracing the teeth as Chase’s eyes lock on it. The arrogance drains out of him, much like the piss down his leg. “Last chance, Harrington. A name. A place. Anything to make this less... permanent.”
Chase jerks against the ropes, chair creaking under him. His breath comes in short, wet bursts. “You won’t—You can’t—My father—”
I laugh. “When are you going to realize that you are disposable to these people? I can’t tell you how many bodies I’ve carried out of houses under the Syndicate’s payroll, and I’m just twenty-two.
Imagine our fathers’ body counts... But don’t worry, we’ll send him a souvenir so he knows we thought of him. ”
Talon presses the flat of the saw to Chase’s thigh and a whimper slips out before he chokes it back.
“Start with a finger? Or an ear? Ears mail nicely.”
“Fingers are personal. Wrap it up pretty with a little bow. ‘Sorry about your son. Here’s a keepsake,’” I say, leaning against the pillar.
Chase thrashes, ropes cutting deeper. “Stop... please... You don’t understand... the Syndicate, it’s bigger than—”
Talon’s already moving, pinning Chase’s left hand flat against the armrest, forcing the pinky straight. Chase screams before the blade even touches skin.
“No! No... wait—”
A twist, a wet crunch, and the finger drops to the concrete with a soft plop, blood pumping in rhythmic spurts. Chase’s scream turns into something animalistic.
Talon lifts the finger to the light, inspecting his work. “Clean enough.”
I take it from him and slip it into a plastic bag I grabbed from the workbench. Then, I zip it shut, before tucking it into my pocket.
Chase slumps, sobbing, snot and blood dripping off his chin.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial. Nico is pre-med, top of his class, and, conveniently, owes us three favors.
I press call and it rings twice.
“Dude, it’s the middle of the night. If this is about bailing someone out of—”
“I need you at the house. Basement entrance. Back door.”
Silence. Then, “Dredyn? What the fuck?”
“Nothing you haven’t studied for. Bring your fucking kit.”
Another pause.
“You want me to patch someone up.”
“I want you to keep someone alive. He stays breathing, he stays talking. That’s all.”
“You know you’re fucking insane.”
“Yeah. Ten minutes?”
“You’re an asshole.”
Click.
“Calling in the nerd cavalry?”
“You’d prefer a hospital?”
“Fair.”
Chase swallows, his voice hoarse. “You’re... not going to get away with this.”
“We already have. Lucky for you, you’re still alive.”
Ten minutes later, the back door opens upstairs. There’s quick footsteps, then we hear them move down the basement stairs. Nico freezes on the last step.
“Dredyn...” he says.
“Hey, doc,” Talon chirps. “Our guest had a little accident.”
Nico stares at Chase, at the blood. At the finger-shaped hole in the universe.
“I’m going to jail. This is the night I ruin my fucking career,” he mutters.
“You’re pre-med. This is just extra credit.”
“What the fuck.” He breathes.
“Coffee?” Talon offers, deadpan.
Nico drops to his knees beside the chair. “I need better lighting. Back the hell up.”
We do.
Nico mutters the whole time about infection rates and nerve damage and how we’re all going to Hell.
“Will he live?” I ask.
Nico doesn’t look up. “Yeah, he’ll live. He’ll hurt like a motherfucker, but he’ll live.”
“Good.”
When he’s done, there’s fresh gauze, medical tape, and a warning about fluids we both ignore. Nico stands, wiping bloody hands on a towel that will never be white again.
“We’re square—third favor paid. Do not call me again.”
He’s gone before the door finishes closing, and the basement settles back into quiet. There’s just the hum of the bulb and Chase’s shallow breathing. “Look at me,” I say.
It takes him a second, but he drags his eyes up like it physically hurts.
“This isn’t punishment. Punishment ends. This... is a reminder.”
“Of what?” he rasps.
“That you bleed. That you’re not untouchable. That you only keep fucking breathing because we decided your pain is worth more than your corpse.”
His head hangs forward again, and he shakes it.
“You still think I won’t pull the trigger?” I ask quietly.
He tips his face up.
“I’m not interested in killing you, that’d be a waste. Body disappears, headlines fade, Daddy cries on TV, the Syndicate finds a new errand boy, and Mara still wakes up scared of your ghost. I don’t want your ghost.”
He licks his cracked lip. “What… what do you want?”
“Leverage. Every time you look down at that hand, I want you to remember who stopped at one finger. You want this to end? You give us the leader. You don’t?” I shrug. “We have more time. Nine more fingers, ten toes, two ears, one tongue, one cock. You pick which order.”
Talon whistles, soft. “Ownership, baby.”
“You’re just a broken tool we’re keeping functional.”
He stares, hatred and terror doing the tango in his eyes. He really thought we were just rich boys playing gangster.
“Look at me.”
He reluctantly looks up at me.
“This is not a negotiation. You are not safe. Not with us, not with them. The only reason you’re breathing is because I decided your pain has utility. Understand?” I ask.
He nods once.
“Say it,” Talon sings.
Chase swallows blood. “I’m... not safe.”
“Good boy,” Talon purrs.
“Stay with him,” I tell Talon. “Make sure he doesn’t bleed through Nico’s artwork.”
“Going upstairs to tuck the kids in?”
“Yeah.”
He sobers. “You gonna tell them?”
“No.”
He studies me, looking for cracks. “You’re not the only one this is gonna live in, Dre.”
“I know.”
His gaze softens, just a flicker. “Wash your hands. You look like shit.”
I give him a half-smile. “Noted.”
The hallway’s dim, one lamp glowing softly against the wall, and my hands leave faint red smudges on the banister. I stop in the bathroom, scrubbing my hands until the water runs clear and my skin burns.
Then, I dry my hands, roll my shoulders, and walk to my room. The door opens without a sound.
Mara’s curled on her side, facing Jasper, her hair spilling over my pillow. There’s a faint bruise on her temple—yellow at the edges now—and Jasper’s hand rests above her hip.
Below us, the boy who tried to break her is tied to a chair, missing a finger.
Up here, she’s breathing steady, in my bed.
I could wake Jasper—tell him. Let him come down and see Chase small and bleeding and ruined.
He’d come if I asked.
But he’s already had his worst night because of that man.
He doesn’t need this one, too.
“I’ve got this. Sleep.”
They don’t stir.
I pull the door, leaving it cracked, before taking one last look at the peace I’d die to protect.
Then, I turn and head back down the stairs.
There’s a war under my house.
There’s a girl in my bed.
There’s two brothers by my side.
I can hold all of it.
I have to.
None of them do.
I’m the one who was raised to hold the knife.