Chapter 2
Hunter
Crimson College has one thing that I need.
One.
And I’m on my way there now.
The only place I can channel the bitter rage inside me like it’s lightning finding a conduit.
I slide my fingers over the outline of the knife in my front pocket as I make my way across the perfect green grass of the campus.
This is their little kingdom.
My brother and his perfect golden-boy best friend are here, somewhere. And it’s already making my fingers twitch over my knife.
Thinking of my brother’s face has always made me want to push a pillow over it until he suffocates.
He’d say the same about me.
Weston and I have never gotten along, and none of that is going to change now.
I escaped to London for the past two years, far away from my brother.
But that time overseas came to a bitter, ugly end, now didn’t it?
I bite down on the inside of my cheek.
When I taste blood I know I’m finally biting hard enough.
Maybe Crimson College can have one other thing to offer me.
Something to keep me from burning the place to ash.
It’s been a few weeks since someone last touched my cock.
I’m starting to feel neglected.
I’ll find a pretty girl to fuck by tonight, someone who likes to fight back when I toy with her. A woman who likes it when I make her beg for more, but who won’t give it to me easy.
Someone with enough fire to match mine.
My chest tightens as I gaze over the Crimson College quad. It’s all tall oak trees, stone buildings, and wrought iron fences covered in green moss and ivy.
What a fucking joke.
The type of prestige and wealth I’ve been surrounded by for my whole life.
And a new secret society that Weston and his infuriating bestie are part of.
Well, I’m part of it too, now.
Hope you’re fucking ready.
I keep my eyes focused on the giant building ahead.
The one thing that I truly need in life other than sex.
This place apparently has an excellent gym building, with rooms for dozens and dozens of different classes, rooms filled with rowing equipment, yoga studios, and multiple weightlifting rooms.
And the most important.
A fencing gym.
Somewhere I’m allowed to try to hurt someone.
Where it’s encouraged.
Where violence is nice, safe, and structured for people who can’t handle it when it’s messy, ugly, and raw.
I push open the double doors of the physical fitness building and walk inside. The smell of fresh rubber fills the air, the universal scent of athletics. The main hallway in the gym is crowded with students.
As I walk past the rows of lockers and look into the rooms, I see students swimming in a big indoor lap pool, working out on rowing machines, and a group playing volleyball.
When I get to the fencing gym, it’s the first time I feel like I’m home since stepping foot on this campus.
The gym is small but beautiful, with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side that look out over grassy hills full of pine and oak trees.
Inside, there are mats on the floor and a wall full of swords.
Metal.
Weapons.
These are a few of my favorite things...
The fencing instructor is already waiting for me. He looks up, giving me a nod from the corner of the room.
“You must be Hunter Knox,” he says.
“And you’re David Hemson,” I say, shaking his hand.
He’s in his fifties, probably, with grey hair. When I transferred to this college, the fencing instructor was the first person I looked up.
Another student joins us soon after. Her shiny black hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and she’s probably only about five foot three, which can make for a very agile sparring partner.
“This is Briar Zhang, one of our new junior fencers,” Coach Hemson says. “You’re both transfers. If you’d like to try out for our competitive team, I’ll spar with you, and then Briar will.”
“Pleasure,” Briar says, pulling off a glove and reaching out to shake my hand.
Her eyes travel up and down my body in a way I’m used to seeing.
People always like how I look.
It’s just my personality they can’t handle.
Feelings don’t work for me, unfortunately. I had to learn to kill that part of myself long ago.
“Ready to fight?”
“Always.”
I suit up in the locker room and then come back to select a foil sword from the racks of available weapons. I try a few, getting a feel for their different weights.
The moment the handle of the right sword is in my hands, I feel myself coming back into my body.
Yes.
I spar with Coach Hemson first, and he’s damn good. He’s particularly stylish with his parrying, and he moves backward much faster than I’d expect based on his frame and laid-back demeanor.
But when I spar with Briar, it’s another feeling entirely.
She’s incredible.
Within moments of her metal clinking against mine, I know she must have trained for far longer than her college years.
I knew she’d be quick, but she’s even more agile than I am.
Her sword hits mine, over and over, the sound reverberating through the room as Coach watches us.
“Good. Great, Zhang,” he calls out as he narrows his eyes, watching us fight.
I stay focused on her movements, and she catches me out once, and then twice. But in the end, I back her into a corner and catch her on a misplayed parry.
She’s faster, but I’m taller.
And I use it to my advantage.
She stumbles backward onto her ass on the mat.
I exhale as I pull up my mask, reaching down to help her up.
“You’re great, Knox,” Coach says. “Don’t think I have to even say this, but you’re on the team, if you want to be.”
“Thank you,” I tell him.
Briar’s eyes are wide, and she’s breathing heavily now. Coach heads over into the supply room, and I’m left with just her on the mat.
“I’m not going to kiss your ass like Hemson,” she says. “You’re good. But you just got lucky, getting me on the ground there.”
I hum. “Maybe next time, you should parry quicker.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Nice attitude. You pick that up in London, too?”
I bite my tongue.
I wish I could say my attitude was just meant to be light banter, but I’m not about to show Briar how deep my darkness goes.
My tragic life isn’t exactly good conversation.
Not for someone I just met.
Not for anyone.
Because poor Hunter Knox has a sad, ugly little story.
When my sister Lune died, many years ago, it left a deeper wound than any of my others. But sometimes it felt like I was destined for darkness anyway, since the day I was born. Before I lost Lune, my parents made life bad enough for me and Weston anyway.
I didn’t ask for darkness.
It just always found me.
“Thanks,” I tell Briar, ignoring the iceberg of trauma that exists below the surface of my mind.
“Come grab a drink with me?” Briar asks.
Maybe she really does want to fuck.
“What kind of drink?”
She gives me a look. “Not trying to get you in bed. I don’t swing your way, no matter how pretty you are. But maybe you can help me find a nice girl to bring home?”
I nod.
Better than heading to that stupid fucking Stone and Flame party.
I was supposed to show up at the Onyx Society house last night. I opted to sleep in my car instead, because I couldn’t stomach seeing my brother yet.
Apparently, some former Onyx member had been attacked last night.
I didn’t want to deal with my brother’s reaction to that. Weston is particularly insufferable when he’s in a terrible mood.
But tonight I finally had to show up.
I was only allowed into Onyx with a stipulation: I had to attend all society events, otherwise I’d be removed.
The Stone and Flame party was the first of many events I’d need to attend.
Roman Petrov, the heavily tattooed senior Onyx member who pulled strings to let me in, had that stipulation.
So I’m going to show up at the party.
Wearing red.
Because that’s another one of their stupid fucking rules.
Rayne Colson will be there, too.
Something heats in my chest as I think about seeing Rayne for the first time in two years.
Rayne used to come over to our house a lot after school.
Used to love trying to fight me.
Like he craved losing.
Never stopped trying, even though I had every advantage.
Rayne followed in my brother’s goddamn gold-plated footsteps every chance he could get. My brother always wanted to show Rayne “the good life,” bringing him into our world of wealth.
Rayne always watched me.
Lingered on me.
I couldn’t tell if deep down, somewhere behind that Abercrombie jock exterior, Rayne idolized me.
Maybe this party won’t be so bad, after all.
I’ll get to watch the look on Rayne Colson’s face when he sees me again.