Chapter Twenty-One
Thursday feels a thousand years long.I’ve got the afternoon off from classes, giving me time to kill at the frat house’s private gym, but even three hundred pounds on the bench press isn’t enough to outweigh my distraction.
Lia is on my mind again, and it’s starting to become unbearable.
I don’t understand why she spoke to me the way that she did outside of the sorority house. Our tryst in the woods was supposed to be enough to win her over. Hell, I thought it had at the time—she seemed overcome. Soft and vulnerable, just how I wanted her.
But then yesterday, she treated me like a goddamn stranger.
I don’t know if I’m seeing her tonight, which also fucking kills me. Uncertainty and I have never gotten along very well. She didn’t say that she wouldn’t meet me, but also didn’t say that she would. So what the fuck am I supposed to do? Show up outside her dorm and hope for the best? Would be one hell of a joke—and the worst part is that I’m actually considering it. That’s how badly I want to see her.
After three brutal sets, I get to my feet. Pathetic, hardly enough to constitute a workout at all—but the pain in my ribs has gotten so bad that I’m starting to see white with every rep. It won’t do my body any good to fuck up the healing process. I checked myself in the mirror this morning, and things look even grimmer than they feel—a deep inky swath all along my left side where his silver-tipped cane struck me again and again.
Find her! Find her, you wretched, rotten, cunt of a boy!
Find my Rose!
I didn’t dare to ask if Rose is her name, but I did check the school’s database afterwards. No Rose, Rosa, or Rosalie. There’s one Rosamund, but she’s a senior in Upsilon Theta. Doesn’t fit the bill. So I’m left at square one again, with jack shit for guidance.
I wipe the sweat off my brow and head for the pair of treadmills on the other side of the room. They’re both occupied right now, but the nearer of the two guys is quick to clear off when I approach, giving me a nod as he does so. I take his place, set the machine’s speed at a gentle five miles per hour, and begin to walk steadily in place, fighting back a cringe every time pain splinters through my side.
From here, I have a decent view of the whole gym—rows of machines in the center, free weights and benches at the far end, bouldering wall to the side opposite to the locker room door. Not too many people here for now, but that’s gonna change by the end of tomorrow. New frat brothers tend to swarm to the gym. Yet another reason why the start of the semester is a royal pain in my ass. I’ve got two more rush events to endure—alumni meet-and-greet later this afternoon, formal brunch tomorrow—then final approval, which I need to wrap up in time to prepare for my other fucking recruitment job at the cliffside later that night. As much as the fraternity shit exasperates me, everything with the Order is even worse. Makes me feel like my father’s fucking puppet—a puppet that can’t even accomplish a simple task, as the pain in my ribs keeps reminding me.
The door to the gym swings open, grabbing my attention.
Well, what do you know? Just the guy I need to see.
“Dixon,” I call, “over here.”
He’s at my side almost immediately, primed to receive orders. “What’s up, boss?”
“I need a search. Every single white, brunette, brown eyed girl in the freshman class. If you can track down any Italian heritage, send those ones to the front of the list. I want names, room numbers, pictures. Sooner the better.”
He nods. “Give me three hours.”
“Make it two.”
“No problem.”
With that, he heads right back out of the gym—and, after a few more minutes on the treadmill, I follow suit.
Freddie is waiting for me in my bedroom.
“Howdy, captain.” He’s lounging on my bed like he owns the place, fiddling with a pair of hockey skates that definitely don’t belong to either of us. “Y’know these blades are made of carbon steel? Way easier to sharpen than stainless.”
“What the fuck do you want, Freddie?”
“No small talk? Fine, fine.” He sets the skates aside and leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “What I want is to know what the fuck has gotten into you lately.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ryker, you dick,” he groans. “It’s just me in here, man. Can we please skip the bullshit?”
“Whatever.” I stride over to my closet and begin stripping off my gym clothes. “Draven’s got me on a new task, and it’s a serious pain in my ass.”
“And you didn’t ask me for help? You wound me.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Yeah, right. Spit it out—who are we killing?”
“We aren’t killing anyone.” I toss the dirty clothes into the hamper in the closet and slam it shut. “He wants me to find a girl for him. Some mafia heiress. Got a tip that she’s gonna be on campus this semester.”
“A Lombardi girl? Damn.” The grin splitting his face is one of the widest I’ve ever seen. “Shit, things are gonna get fun around here, huh?” His gaze flickers back to the skates. “Y’know, these sweet things can slice through flesh like it’s nothing… wonder how they’d hold up against bone. Maybe Vincenzo Lombardi’s guys would aid me in a little experiment.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I drop into my desk chair, fingers drumming one of its padded arms. “He doesn’t want to start a war, as far as I know. At least, that’s not his main goal. Sounds more like a personal thing. Like he wants this girl for himself.”
Freddie gawks at me.
“For himself,” he repeats. “He’s got you tracking down a girl. For himself.”
“Don’t ask me why.”
“Are you kidding?” He bursts into a gale of laughter, bringing his hands together in a series of harsh, piercing claps. “Sweet fucking baby Jesus, that is hilarious.”
“To you, maybe.”
“Ryker, come on. This is gold. Draven wants a girl? What’s he gonna ask for next, a pony? Fuckin’ hell. Last I heard, he valued women about as much as semi-decent cuts of pork loin. No difference between ’em, so long as the flesh is nice and tender. And now he’s hung up on a specific girl?” He mimes wiping a tear from his eye. “Our little crime lord is growing up. How sweet.”
“Dude, shut the fuck up.” I don’t expect him to take things seriously, but it still pisses me off. It might be all fun and games for him, but it’s a matter of broken bones for me if I don’t get my father what he wants.
“Yeah, yeah. For real, though.” He leans forward, eyes glinting with undisguised hunger. “Why not let me in on it? Halve the workload?”
Because the fucking idiot would sooner torture and kill the girl than turn her over to Draven. Anything to piss my father off—never mind the fact that the blame would fall on my shoulders.
I don’t humor him by saying so aloud, just raise an eyebrow.
“Well, all right, fair enough,” he grumbles. “I get it—you don’t trust me to be responsible.”
“Fucking of course I don’t. Looked in the mirror lately? You ought’ve been locked up years ago.”
“I’d chew through the chains if they tried,” he says with a shrug, attention returning to the hockey skates. “Anyway, you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Yeah. Speaking of responsibility, I need you to take care of the tail end of the alumni shit tonight.”
He whines like a kicked puppy. “You’re joking.”
“Sure. I’m known for my love of jokes, after all,” I deadpan.
“Can’t we trade? You lead the fuck ass team-building exercises while I go skulk around in search of your mafia signorina?”
“I’ve got other business, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh, Christ.” He rolls his eyes so far back that I can only see the whites. “It’s that girl again, isn’t it? The one you’ve been seeing? First Draven, now you—is it breeding season for the Pendragon family or what?”
“You’re not funny.”
“Debatable.”
“Well, find someone else to debate it with.” I grab my towel and head for the shower.
My rinse is a quick one, water ice-cold to keep me alert. I don’t like to leave myself exposed any longer than necessary. The scars, the bruises, the hollow grin of the massive skull tattooed across my back… all of it serves to remind me of who I am. Who I’ll always be, no matter how hard I try to fight it.
I should leave Lia alone. Everyone with a connection to me is going to end up fucked over sooner or later, either by my father or myself. That’s just how things work in a life like mine. But it’s not too late for her.
I should leave her alone. But the desire to consume her with hope that it will get her out of my system is strong. Stronger than I care to admit.
I won’t, though. Seeing her is the one thing that I’m allowing for myself. Disconnected from my father, from the Order, from the GODs. When I’m with Lia, I even forget my bruises.
Which may be a bad thing. My wounds serve a purpose, after all. They remind me of how I’ve failed. And, more importantly, how I can’t fail again.
Fuck it. Everyone else has their vices. I might as well embrace my own.