Chapter 9 Shane
SHANE
I’m just stepping out of the shower when my phone screen lights up with a notification. Not bothering to grab a towel, I pad over to the counter and tap the home button.
Irritation prickles at my chest as I read the text, and three replies appear in the chat in rapid succession while I type out my answer.
Unknown: roger that
Unknown: understood
Unknown: roger
Shane: understood
I wait to see if Jordan has anything more to say, then put my phone back on the counter when my screen goes dark.
“Just fucking awesome,” I mutter and swipe my hand over the foggy mirror to clear some of the condensation so I can see my reflection.
My eyes are immediately drawn to my neck and shoulder, and the faded remnants of the marks Jace gave me in the gym the other night.
Heat gathers low in my body, and my stomach clenches as I remember exactly how good it felt to get those marks—and how hard I came when Jace bit me.
I’ve always been adventurous when it comes to sex, but I’ve never been into marking, and until Jace, the idea of causing someone pain, or having a partner hurt me while we’re fucking around, didn’t even register on my radar of kinks.
And it’s not like my newfound appreciation for marking is the only thing Jace has brought to the surface.
Beyond the fact that he’s a guy and has a dick, he’s the exact opposite of what I usually go for in women.
I’m not into meek and submissive, and I actively avoid virgins or girls with limited experience, but I also get turned off when someone is overly confident and comes on too strong or is too aggressive with their flirting.
Jace is the most arrogant and overconfident person I’ve ever met, and his brand of flirting isn’t just aggressive; it can feel downright antagonistic when he’s in a mood.
Until Jace, the idea of fighting with someone as foreplay was so far removed from my reality that I would have laughed if someone had told me I’d be into it with anyone, let alone with him.
I don’t enjoy fighting or verbally sparring with anyone, let alone someone I’m thinking of hooking up with. I don’t get any pleasure out of sniping or trading insults, and someone pissing me off is usually the best way to make me lose all interest in them.
In all the years I’ve been hooking up with women, I’ve never once had the desire to toss one of them around or manhandle them, and I definitely would have stopped things if someone pulled out the dominatrix moves and tried to wrestle me into submission or top from the bottom, or whatever it’s called when a woman bosses a guy around and makes him do what she wants.
Tearing my eyes from my reflection, I scoop up my phone and turn away from the mirror.
I’ll have plenty of time to obsess over all the things I’ve learned about myself later. Right now I need to get dressed so I can get my ass over to the main house before the meeting starts.
Killian and the twins are already waiting in the main foyer when I arrive, and it feels like there’s a giant spotlight on me as I approach them.
“Hey,” Killian greets, giving me a quick upnod as I come to stand with them.
“Hey.” I upnod him back. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Jax shakes his head at the same time Killian says, “Nope.”
“Why is your hair wet?” Jace asks conversationally.
I flick my gaze to him. “I just got out of the shower when the text about the meeting came through.”
A sly grin lifts the corner of his mouth. “So does that mean you were naked when you answered the text?”
I pin him with a flat look. “Why does that matter?”
“Because I was too.” His smile shifts into a smirk. “Only I wasn’t getting out of the shower. I was…engaged in other things, if you know what I mean.”
A sour sensation fills my stomach at his words. Was he hooking up with someone? Did he just finish fucking someone’s brains out, and that’s why he seems so chill right now?
And why do I care? Jace is free to do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. So why does the thought that he might have been balls deep in some random when we were summoned bother me?
“Good, you’re all here,” Nico says as he strides into the foyer. “Follow me.”
Dutifully, we fall into step behind him as he leads us through a maze of hallways and doorways until he finally stops in front of what looks like a plain stretch of wall.
We wait as he kneels and runs his finger over the ridge of the baseboard. He must have pushed a hidden button or something, because a section of the wall pops forward, revealing a secret door.
I glance at the others as he pulls a ring full of what looks like skeleton keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door, and it’s telling that none of them seem shocked by any of this.
I haven’t spent a lot of time in the main house outside of events and parties, but I know the entire building is riddled with hidden rooms and extends multiple stories underground. I’ve only seen a few of the many secrets the building houses, but the Hawthorne cousins are different.
They’ve been part of the inner circle of the leadership since we were in our second year and have been heavily involved in the day-to-day workings of the Rebels ever since.
Then there’s me, the guy who’s been kept just as much in the dark as ninety percent of the frat’s membership about what actually goes on behind closed doors.
“Wait for us in there,” Nico says and points into the room.
Feeling even more out of my element than I did when I first walked into the building, I follow the others inside and look around as the door swings shut behind us.
The room is completely different from what I’ve seen of the house, but at the same time, it’s exactly what I’d expect to find behind a secret door.
It has the same textured wallpaper and dark wood accents as the rest of the house, and the giant chandelier hanging over our heads is similar to the ones in our rooms at Hamilton House, but the space is otherwise empty.
It’s also tiny, probably only eight square feet if I had to guess, and there are no windows, no door other than the one we came through, and there isn’t a stitch of furniture or any sort of decor anywhere.
It’s hard to explain, but the room doesn’t just look different, it feels different too. Cold and sterile, and completely silent, like we’re cut off from the rest of the building.
A loud click, like an electronic lock engaging, rings out, and the pot lights in the ceiling blink off, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness.
“Well, that’s one way to get our attention,” Jace says dryly as the giant chandelier lights up, the bulbs flickering like candles in the dim room.
“What the hell is going on?” Killian asks, his eyes cutting around the space like he’s searching out a threat.
“Theater,” Jax says calmly.
“Theater?” Killian asks dubiously.
“Yep,” Jace says, his tone as calm as his brother’s. “Check your phone.”
Killian and I both pull out our phones, but my screen stays dark when I tap on the Home key to wake it up.
“What the fuck?” Killian says before I can.
“I can’t be sure without ripping the walls open, but I’m guessing this room is basically a giant Faraday cage,” Jace explains. “Notice how the air feels different? Colder and almost stale?”
Killian and I both nod.
“Again, I can’t be sure without seeing the house plans or tearing the walls open, but I think this was originally a panic room that they upgraded to an EMF-resistant one as the tech became available.
” He glances around, his eyes sharp and calculating.
“They prettied it up with a fancy chandelier and wallpaper, but this is a dead room.”
“A dead room?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Dead like nothing comes in or out of it once it’s locked down,” he says. “Notice how there are no vents or grates in here? No cracks or openings anywhere? Even the lights are hidden now?”
I look around. He’s right. The room is completely sealed. The openings where the pot lights were are now covered, making the ceiling as flat and smooth as the rest of the room, and there are no grates or vents or cracks anywhere that I can see.
“That tells us the room isn’t connected to any sort of ventilation system, which is why the air feels stale.
And if I’m right, that means there’s also a finite amount of usable air in here.
It’s cold because we’re probably underground, and that wall”—he points to the door—“is most likely the only point of contact with the rest of the building.”
“But why?” Killian asks. “What’s the purpose of making us wait in here?”
“Do you think it’s like a challenge or something?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Like an escape room?”
“Could be,” Jax says as he walks over to the wall across from the door. “Or maybe it’s a test to see if we can lock them out,” he adds thoughtfully and runs one finger down a strip of wallpaper.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It’s standard for panic rooms to have an internal locking system, and one that disables the external locks,” Jace explains, and the lack of any mocking or condescension in his voice is as unnerving as being trapped in a tiny room with no ability to contact the outside world.
“That way, the only people who decide if and when they want to leave are the ones inside it.”
“Yeah, but why?” Killian asks. “Why bother with any of this?”
“They could be testing our ability to work together,” Jace says as he kneels next to where Jax is still studying the wall. “Or this could be an initiation thing that has no real meaning beyond it being tradition.”
“Or they could be fucking with us,” Jax says absently.
“Or maybe we’re reading too much into it and we’re just supposed to wait until they get here?” I say.
“Could be,” Jace tosses me a quick look over his shoulder. “But I find it a good policy to never allow myself to be trapped. So if there’s a way out, I’m going to find it.”
“And if finding the way out is the opposite of what we’re supposed to be doing and we get in trouble for it?” I ask.