Chapter 5 #2
I think about my reply, just a second of hesitation that doesn't go unnoticed. Unlike me, Ezra takes his job within the club seriously. Even the way he dresses screams power in the making. Always so serious, dressed in suits, while I am more business casual, but make it fashionable. My gaze roams over him, noticing that there’s a dullness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.
His eyebrows always expose the worry and tension; his mouth screams to speak.
I wish he would open up to me, so he could know he’s not alone.
Or even give me a hint of what he’s thinking.
But even though I’m worried sick, I don’t pry.
Sometimes I wonder what will happen to him after years of exposure. You can only play both sides for so long until the truth rips you open, letting the mask fall. Will he turn against us, or will he root for us? I can’t help but wonder, especially when he plays his role all too well.
“I told Zayden about the fight; both of their trackers are still in Bajo Bay at Nico’s house.” He nods his head before taking a sip of his own cup.
“Good, you ready for tonight?”
I shrug.
The only thing I’m ready for is Zayden’s presence—without anyone getting in the way, not even Nico.
I don’t care about the fight, even less interested in looking into Asher’s death or who the fuck could be the mole.
Velarium can burn for all I care. All I care about is that tonight he will be all mine.
Maybe if I’m lucky, I can charm my way into his heart, even if it’s just a fraction.
“I guess you think we will learn something?”
He pauses, biting his thumb, something that reminds me of Zayden. “I think we will once Zayden gets close to Greyson.”
Just hearing his name grates on my nerves.
Jealousy creeps inside me. I hate the idea of Zayden being with someone other than the masked man he tends to get fucked by every other Wednesday night, without a word, and in a haze of weed.
If it's not obvious, that masked stranger is me.
I made sure of it. I shudder at the memory of his hands around my throat, so tight that bruises bloomed.
I figured he recognized who was behind the mask, but one look in his eyes told me he just wanted to hurt me.
Well, not me, because he will never know that the man is the same person he hates.
My fingers curl around the cup as envy grows inside me; it seems like sharing him is the price I pay for all my deceitful ways.
“What’s on your mind?” Ezra’s hand clasps the back of my neck as he holds me in place.
It’s not like I could tell him, he wouldn’t understand.
My best friend isn’t like our fathers, but he’s not like the others either.
I guess I’m not, but I can sympathize with them.
While Ezra can’t or simply doesn’t care to.
I can see what happens to them, to us. It’s abuse.
Ezra just thinks it is something out of his control, something that’s been done long before we were born.
Tradition, if you can call it that. Plus, the petals usually fuck him willingly, and since Ezra is his father’s golden boy, he’s never forced to do things—unlike me.
Forced to fuck my friend just to entertain Mr. J, to help seal a business deal.
Then Zayden, I can’t say that was forced. I just couldn't bear my father touching him. I can’t bear the thought of anyone besides me touching him. “Thiago, man, what’s gotten into you?”
I blink, and his brown eyes come back into focus.
“Nothing, sorry, I got no sleep.” The lie rolls off my tongue with ease.
“Gotta stop fucking so much, your dick will fall off,” he jokes around, yet he couldn’t be more wrong. It wasn’t sex that kept me up, but the weight of my guilt.
“Remind me again why we're here so early?” I groan out, letting out a yawn as we go down a flight of stairs.
From the corner of my eye, I spot Elijah with Wyatt. Both greet us with a motion of their hands before returning to whatever they had going on. The halls smell like latex, booze, sex, and expensive cologne. A scent I’ve grown to loathe. The red door seals shut as we go deeper into the devil’s den.
At the end of the hall, laughter drifts out from the office.
Peter sits at the end of the polished table with an array of breakfast items for us to indulge in.
Beside him is Mr. J and Ezra’s father, Mr. Roberts, and both of them look like they’ve been up all night fucking based on the fresh scratches and the heavy smell of sex in the room.
It sours my appetite. Taking a sip of my coffee, I drop down on the leather couch, resting my head on the back of it.
“Where's the rest?” Mr. J asks, turning my stomach, knowing he’s asking for Nico.
“Not here,” I respond flatly, watching as he eats a slice of bacon and pierces his fork through one of the gourmet sausages. “I miss that fuck,” he says, and I wince, but ice runs down my veins when Peter opens his mouth.
“Maybe I should gift him to you,” he says cheerfully, pointing the fork in my direction. “You've been keeping him away from what’s mine, I hope.”
I nod.
Not being able to get my mouth to form words, and still not understanding what I’m here for, especially this early. Thankfully, I’m not left to ponder for long.
“Tonight, I need you to get useful information; we need to find the rat and see what Costa Mar wants.” I raise a brow, watching as Peter finishes. “I don’t think it’s someone from Costa Mar. On the contrary, I think all the players are on this very campus.”
“What do you want us to do?”
Ezra is the one who answers this time. “Silence them.”