Chapter Fourteen
Chase Prescott .
I don’t trust Raven Monroe. Not even a little bit.
As soon as rumors buzzed that she was on campus, I texted my cousin Tyler.
Being a brother in the Syndicate, Riordan and I were privy to certain failings inside the brotherhood.
We were eighteen when it happened, her face being plastered all over every news station.
The elite are never to be a hit but once a hit is called, it’s called. Except she had survived the hit, she couldn’t be touched again. It’s always a risk going after the same hit twice.
The cops were too close to the scene, too close to Syndicate properties, anyhow. When she was thrown into an asylum, and her case grew cold, we watched Tyler breathe easier. At first, we thought it was because she was his friend. We didn’t learn the truth until after our own initiation.
She still belonged to my uncle. It was a crime to go against a brother in the Syndicate, but because the person that tried to murder her was a legacy, they turned their heads at his indiscretion. Except my uncle is not a very forgiving nor a forgetful person.
I knew she was here seeking answers. I was to make sure she didn’t get close to finding any.
My plan was that I was going to charm her, win her loyalty and get her to my uncle.
But then Jonas had to go falling head over heels for her.
I tried to put the doubts in his mind about her, but nothing worked.
Nothing. Even Riordan liked her for him.
The fucking traitor. He knew what was at stake.
Getting her alone was proving to be a difficult task.
Even when she was alone, she made sure to be in the public eye.
And then, I had my in with her at the gym.
All alone. Bending her delicious fat, natural ass over, I had to do something.
Except when I was shoving her luscious thigh up and my dick landed on her fat pussy, I was a fucking goner.
I tried to hurt her, I actually knew I was hurting her, except she kept bucking and my dick got so hard.
I saw the allure of Raven underneath me, unable to scream out for help, it did something to me.
Something… not good. It made my chest feel… weird.
Before she bucked me off, I saw Jonas and Riordan coming in, I needed him to catch us like this. I needed to plant that seed in his head that she wasn’t all good, innocent…
The less people she had around her, the better.
Except Riordan caught them kissing like two horny teenagers.
I’d rolled my eyes, not hiding my disgust. Then the next day after standing in line at the Koffee Kart with her…
she was so close, waiting for her order to be called out.
Then I turned to see she was headed in the same direction I was, the empty library.
She grabbed whatever books she needed then sat at a table close to the window.
Her brows were drawn together, her lips pursed, tapping her pen against her bottom lip, occasionally biting the tip of it. She was so fucking cute.
And unsuspecting.
Perfect.
Except the books she had for the serial killer she was researching, were wrong. She wouldn’t find what she needed with those things. I brought her some back and she took them humbly with a half frown, half smile on her delicate, beautiful face.
Bitch.
I wanted her to push the books away so I could make her take them.
I wanted her to rebel against me. Be angry with me, to show some kind of…
I don’t know, emotion toward me. But she didn’t.
she took the goddamn books I offered with her nose scrunched and a half-smile and those cinnamon-whiskey eyes squinting at me and then treated me as if my presence didn’t affect her whatsoever. Like I was invisible.
Infuriating.
I hated her.
Then she had to go and get all gorgeous for Jonas, wearing his number, made my brother and him laugh with her adorable little antics and this uncontrollable jealousy ripped inside of me.
She was under Jonas’ spell as much as he was under hers and it fucking hurt to watch.
We whooped the Turner Falls’ Blue Jays that night, and when Jonas got drunk at the bar while we were celebrating, and all the RMU girls were hot and willing, Jonas went back to his hotel room.
I asked him later if he planned on sharing Raven with us, and it was the first time, in a long time, Jonas punched me in the gut.
He spent the entire weekend with her, ignoring me. Riordan reminds me I’m the one that fucked up.
But then the following Monday, the day she wore those sexy thigh highs… fuck I wish I had known what had happened. Jonas spends the week moping around, not telling me a goddamn thing… and her? She looks like the embodiment of anorexia.
I bring Cecilia around after the game on Friday, have her suck him while he’s in a drunk stupor, and wrap up so I can take her from behind. Jonas spends the entire weekend with his dick in Cece. Like it used to be.
Sunday, he’s still drunk, and Cecilia is still hanging on his arm when we leave The Cheeky Irishman Pub, and I spot her, in a brand-new fucking Range Rover, I can’t help the sinister grin that spreads on my face. Yeah bitch, look at him. He doesn’t need you.
She speeds away.
I tag the Range Rover with a tracker later that evening while everyone’s distracted.
By Monday, JoJo seems to be doing a hell of a lot better. Hungover, but better.
Raven? Her lips are chapped. Hair brittle.
She walks the halls and the quad like a fucking dirty ghost, haunting the library, avoiding everyone and everything.
Her clothes don’t fit her right, and they hang off her body loosely like she ordered them two sizes too big.
She’s definitely hasn’t been eating with us. I doubt she’s been eating at all.
Good. I hope she dies of starvation. Less mess for me to clean up .
I decide to fuck with her just a little bit when I spot her in the library before my Advanced Computer Science class, going over her notes for Music Theory. Yes, Jonas told me her entire schedule. “Have a good weekend, Spooks?”
She starts packing up her shit and I grip her hand to stop her, squeezing until I’m sure I’ve crushed a bone or two, but she doesn’t make a face.
Not one sound. I want her to fucking scream.
I want her to hurt because whatever she did to him…
hurt him. I want her to fucking squirm for me, so I decide to tell her all about how our weekend went, and how much we fucked Cecilia senseless and I can see the fresh heartbreak on written all over her face.
It feels so fucking good.
“What the fuck did you do to him? I haven’t seen him like this since-“ Paris , I stop myself from saying. I let Raven know exactly what I think of her. That she’s trash, unclaimed, and fair fucking game.
Except on Wednesday after first hour, Jonas finds me and corners me by the English department into one of the little gardens RMU has all over the place. “What the fuck did you do to her? Did you break her fucking hand?” He throws a heavy-handed punch, and it lands right on my beautiful face.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I gaslight, grabbing my handsome, award-winning face.
“Don’t act fucking innocent with me, Chase, I know your work. Do you honestly think I haven’t seen you following her around the entire fucking campus?”
“No idea what you’re saying to me.” I lie. I’ve only looked at the tracker once or twice. The car never moves from the place she parked it and so what if we just so happened to be at the same place, same time? I’d say it was kismet if Jonas wasn’t right about me following her.
To-may-to, to-mah-to.
“Her hand is fucking purple!”
“How is that my fucking fault?”
“Oh my god, Chase just fucking admit it.” he groans out an irritated huff. “I already know it was you. The more you deny the more I’m likely to just call this entire friendship off. ”
“You said you no longer claim her. She’s allowed to be fucked with.”
“I didn’t think you’d go and break her fucking hand!” He covers his mouth, then wipes his lips and shakes his head, his hands landing on his uniformed hips.
“Fuck with her or don’t fuck with her, Jonas? You’ve been balls deep in Cecilia since last weekend, flaunting her in front of your fucking specter. Are you seriously telling me I’m not allowed to fuck with her? You said psychological warfare.”
“Psychological you fucking dick. Not physical.”
I shrug my heavy shoulders. “I knew this was another Paris situation. For months we told you-“
“DON’T you dare fucking talk to me about Paris, you fucking bastard. This is nothing like Paris and you know it.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask.
“I don’t know!” Jonas shakes his head, brown hair falling forward.
He looks as unhinged as he did when I found him crying last Monday.
“I don’t know because I have no fucking proof.
I heard what I heard but I don’t think I heard the situation right.
I don’t fucking know anything. I don’t know everything and it’s fucking killing me.
” A tear leaves his eye and he quickly wipes it away.
I grab him by the nape of the neck in a comforting way, my hand sliding down to his shoulder so I give it a squeeze.
“She walks around like she’s dying from the inside out. Whatever happened broke her more than it broke me. She tried to talk, for Christ’s sake.”
I fucking knew it. “What?”
He shakes his head. “She tried to talk; one fucking syllable flew out of her mouth and then it sounded like her throat closed in and it looked like it fucking hurt her. I was so fucking angry I ended up… I shoved her against the wall, and I’m pretty sure I concussed her. ” More tears fall and his voice breaks.
Pride surges through me at his admission. That’s my boy. I love it when he lets the darkness take over.