Chapter 1
ANTHONY
Leaning forward in my desk chair, I play the section of the video I was working on, carefully scanning every inch of the frame to make sure everything is exactly the way I want it to look.
Once it’s done playing, I go back to a transition at the start that I’m not completely happy with and switch to a different effect. It’s better, but not perfect, so I play around with the settings until I get what I want.
I’m just saving the file when the door to my room flies open and the overhead light flickers on, bathing the dark room in a bright yellow glow.
I blink against the sudden onslaught of light and spin my chair around as two of my best friends walk into my room.
“You know who else spends all their time huddled in the dark watching security cameras like they’re a reality TV show?” Hazen shoots me a pointed look. “Serial killers.”
“Don’t forget sociopaths,” Connor, his twin brother, adds as he kicks the door closed behind him. “And cannibals.”
“Definitely cannibals,” Hazen agrees.
“Interesting thought process,” I say dryly as I turn back to my computer and start shutting my editing programs down. “Somehow I went from being a serial killer to a sociopath to a cannibal, all because I was working in the dark.”
“Yup.” Hazen flops down on my couch with a dramatic sigh.
The rooms at Montague House, or Romeo House as we call it, are nothing to write home about, but they’re not awful, either.
The room itself is pretty basic and has a desk, a bookcase, a huge dresser, and a massive bed on one side, with a couch, a coffee table, and a wingback chair in the far corner of the room.
One of the nice things about Montague House is that single rooms are standard for third and fourth-year students, while most of the dorms on campus are double occupancy.
Another unique aspect of our house is that, unlike the other dorms on campus that have cohesive designs and a running theme that gives some sort of insight into the people who founded the dorm, Montague House is a mishmash of styles that make no sense together, and nearly every room looks like it’s from a different era than the ones around it.
Even the outside of the building looks like someone smashed two different houses together and hoped no one would notice.
It’s done in Queen Anne Revival architecture, but they couldn’t settle on a style and just used all of them.
Half the house looks like a sturdy stone mansion with a huge wraparound porch and lots of whimsical details like stone figures and detailed spindle work, and the top three floors are a mess of jutting rooms, turrets, and spires.
It’s weird and quirky and extra as fuck, but it’s also exactly what someone would expect to find at an elite, invite-only college where money rules and traditions are a way of life.
And it’s exactly the type of dorm that would house a century-old frat that’s actually a not-so-secret society.
“Seems a bit extreme,” I say as I finish shutting down my computer.
“Maybe.” Hazen kicks one foot up on my coffee table. “But at the same time, is it really?”
“I always thought it was funny how in all those serial killer documentaries, whenever they’re interviewing people about the killer, everyone is always so shocked that their neighbor or coworker has body parts in his freezer and likes to wear people’s faces.
” Connor shoots me a big grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised at all if I found out you had a face collection. ”
“Fair enough, but also, samesies,” I tell him.
Connor just smiles innocently. “Moi?” he asks primly. “You think I have the capability to be a serial killer?”
I snort-laugh. “Pretty sure the only thing stopping you from already being one is the fact that you’re too pretty to go to jail.”
He shrugs, his look melting into one that I can only describe as a cocky smolder. “You’re not wrong.”
I glance at Hazen. “Who do you think would be the better serial killer? Me or Connor?”
The door to my room flies open halfway through my question, and Logan, or Rath, as everyone calls him, comes into the room with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.
“You,” Hazen says immediately.
“Excuse you.” Connor tosses his brother an incredulous look. “I’d totally be a better serial killer than Ant.” He flips his attention to Rath as he sits next to Hazen on the couch. “Who do you think would be a better killer between me and Ant?”
“Ant,” Rath says, not skipping a beat.
“Nope.” Connor shakes his head. “I’m gonna need some explanations before I accept your answer.”
“You have the patience of a toddler and the impulse control of a puppy with the zoomies.” Hazen gives Connor a sidelong look. “Do those sound like qualities that would be assets for a serial killer?”
“Think of it this way,” Rath says, glancing at Connor. “Ant is the guy who spends five minutes trying to decide which toppings he wants to put on his burger and can sit still in a quiet room for hours. Those are the qualities of a good serial killer.”
“So what I’m hearing is that Ant would be the better serial killer, but I’d be the better spree killer,” Connor says.
Hazen and Rath nod.
Connor grins. “Okay, I’ll accept that.”
“Why are we talking about serial killers?” Rath asks, glancing between the three of us.
“No clue,” I say.
“Ant was in the dark again when we came over,” Hazen says, like that explains anything.
“Watching the cams?” Rath asks, glancing at me.
I can’t blame any of them for assuming that I was tuned into the house security cams since I spend an inordinate amount of time watching them when I’m alone in my room. But that wasn’t what I was doing.
“Editing.”
“Can we see it?” Hazen asks. “Or are you going to spend the next few days obsessing over every detail until your perfectionist heart is happy with it?”
“Shut up.”
Hazen grins, but before he can say anything, my phone pings with a text.
Absently, I reach for my phone so I can check my notifications as the guys start ribbing me for my perfectionist ways and my editing habits.
Liam: thought you might want to see this
A video loads in our text thread, and from what I can tell, it’s from one of the security cameras in the back hallway of the house.
The guys flip to talking about what they want to do tonight, but I’m only half listening as I play the video.
Nothing happens for the first five or so seconds, it’s just a wide shot of an empty hallway, but then a panel in the wall slides open like a pocket door, and a figure dressed all in black with a hood up over their head steps out from inside the literal walls.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath, my eyes glued to the screen as the figure quickly slides the panel in the wall shut, then checks something on his phone as he hurries down the hall.
The figure stops in front of another part of the wall and bends to touch or press on a part of the baseboard.
He must hit some sort of release button, because the section of the wall in front of him pops free from the ones beside it, and he carefully pushes the panel aside so he can slip back into the walls.
The video ends as the panel closes behind him, and I quickly type out a reply.
Anthony: who else has seen this?
Liam: just you
Anthony: do you know who that is?
Liam: no clue
Anthony: how long do I have until you tell the leadership about this?
Liam: depends on how long it takes me to go through the last few months of footage to see how long this has been going on and what the fuck they’re doing
Liam: I’d say you have a few weeks unless I find something I can’t keep from them
Anthony: can you keep me updated while we do our own investigation and give me a heads up if you do have to report it early?
Liam: you got it
Liam: but remember - sharing is caring. I scratch your back, you scratch mine and all that jazz
Anthony: roger that
I check the time stamp on the video. It was taken last night, just before midnight.
Anthony: when did you find out about this?
Liam: About ten minutes ago. so far it’s the only one I’ve found
Anthony: thanks for passing it to us first
Liam: all good
Liam: just remember our deal
Anthony: I remember
He sends the emoji of the hand doing the peace sign, his usual sign-off, and my screen goes dark.
I flash it back up again and look up to find my friends staring at me expectantly.
“What’s that face for?” Connor asks.
Instead of answering, I text the video to their phones so they can see it for themselves. “Liam sent me this,” I tell them as their phones all go off at the same time. “The footage is from last night,” I explain as they pull their phones out of their pockets.
I wait while they all play the video.
Rath is the first to look up from his phone. “What the actual fuck did I just watch?”
“Is there any context for this?” Hazen asks. “Or do we have to worry about people living in our walls on top of everything else we’ve got going on?”
“Pretty sure we don’t have to worry about wall people,” I tell Hazen with a smirk. “All Liam said was he found the footage ten minutes before he texted it to me, and he has no idea who that is.”
“Is he passing it on to the leadership?” Rath asks.
“Not yet.”
“Are we sure this isn’t one of the brothers getting caught on cam using the passages?” Connor asks, still staring at his phone screen intently.
“You’d have to be pretty high up to even know about those ones,” I point out. “I had no idea they were there. Did any of you?”
They all shake their heads.
Our frat house is full of secret passages and ways to move around the house without being seen, a fact that’s one of the worst-kept secrets on campus. Everyone knows about them, but most underestimate just how extensive the network is, or how much of it is top secret.
There are a handful of passages, secret rooms, and doors that everyone who’s ever lived in the house knows about, but the only way to learn about most of them is to move up the house hierarchy.