Chapter 3
THREE
TALON
Ashen Grove University.
A legacy school, built on a mass burial ground.
Some epidemic wiped out half the town over a century ago, or maybe it was something worse.
Either way, the ghost stories, horror folklore, and other bullshit are repeatedly shared to keep freshmen entertained.
The faculty loves to wax poetic about its history, but the only history that actually matters? The names carved into the foundation.
If your parents went here, you go here. If they didn’t, better hope they have enough money to buy your way in. That’s how it works.
I don’t really get the hype.
Sure, it’s an elite school, but so is every other overpriced, ivy-covered prison churning out the next generation of corrupt CEOs and soulless politicians. The only difference? Here, the monsters don’t lurk in the shadows. They run the goddamn place.
I would know. I help feed their delusions of power.
I’m a junior and an officer in Omega Chi Kappa—the fraternity the university can’t disband without losing its spine. People pretend we’re a joke. We let them.
The truth? We set the syllabus for sin. No party without our say. No scandal without our permission. The administration sleeps with one eye open because we own them when it closes.
Dredyn and I are running under the late-morning sun, our skin slick with sweat.
Dredyn sets a ruthless pace, but I grit my teeth and push through the burn in my legs.
Students on their way to class leap aside to avoid us.
Most keep their heads down, though a few can’t help but stare at the spectacle of two half-dressed guys running like demons loose on campus.
Power’s funny like that. You don’t have to flex it. Everyone already knows you’ve got it.
People scatter out of our way, eager to avoid even brushing against us. Except for one pair up ahead.
I spot them at the last second: a guy and a girl walking side by side, dead center on the path. They’re engrossed in conversation and haven’t noticed the human battering rams headed their way. Unlike everyone else, they don’t move.
Dredyn actually slows down. Normally, he’d plow through anyone in his way. But for some reason, he stops.
I nearly slam into him. “What the—” I scowl, stepping around him. “What the fuck is your problem?”
He doesn’t answer. His entire stance shifts, muscles tense as steel cables. He’s locked onto the duo ahead, eyes narrowed to predatory slits.
Not something.
Someone.
I follow his gaze, squinting in the glare. It’s the girl who’s caught his attention. She’s small, dark hair pulled tight, plaid skirt ironed flat. Every inch of her screams good girl.
The guy next to her finally notices us and pulls up short, placing a hand on her forearm to get her attention.
He’s tall and lean, with light brown hair styled to perfection, and clothes that probably cost more than my car.
I recognize him now: Zane Beaumont. A loudmouth trust-fund prince who thinks he’s untouchable.
Not a threat, just a nuisance with good hair and too much ego.
Dredyn’s heavy breathing isn’t from the run anymore. I glance at him; his eyes are fixed on the girl with an intensity that even sets off alarms in my head.
It’s then that I realize who she is.
Mara fucking Black.
Milo Black’s sister. Little miss perfection.
The baby-faced golden girl of the Black family empire, hidden behind tailored skirts and a family name that opens more doors than God.
She’s clutching a stack of books to her chest. Conservative as hell, with her knee-length plaid skirt, cardigan buttoned to the neck, and hair pulled into some tight ponytail.
I’ve seen her around before—everyone has. She doesn’t party, doesn’t date, at least not publicly, and acts like the rest of us are beneath her. Milo keeps her leashed. Unless you grew up in their orbit, you don’t see her. That’s by design.
“She always walk around with that much arrogance?” I mutter, side-eyeing him. “Or is that special for today?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can tell something is crawling under his skin, and it’s not just her outfit.
I look back at Mara, still holding those books against her plump tits. Her posture’s perfect, expression unreadable, but her eyes—those soft, too-bright ice blues—dart toward us, then away. She’s trying to pretend we’re not here.
Good luck with that.
I grin without warmth. “Tell me you’re not choosing that as your new fucking pet,” I say, half-laughing. “The future princess of the United States?”
Now, he looks at me.
And yeah, there it is, that confirmation. That tick in his jaw that says I hit the nerve.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter, but I’m still smirking. “Milo Black’s twin sister. The good girl in the gilded cage.”
He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t say shit. Just keeps staring.
“Dre, you good?” I glance at him.
Still no answer.
All right. So, he’s on some bullshit.
I huff a breath, stretching my arms out and rolling my shoulders as we stand in the middle of the quad. Students keep glancing at us, some nervous, some curious.
“You gonna tell me why you look like you wanna rip her apart, or am I just supposed to enjoy the show?”
A minute passes us by and I exhale. “All right, so are we just gonna stand here and be fucking weird, or—”
And then he moves.
Fast.
Dredyn launches forward, without warning, straight toward the unsuspecting Zane.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”
I follow, already knowing this is gonna be a fucking disaster.
Mara and Zane barely have time to register the six-foot-six freight train barreling their way. Dredyn plows right between them, slamming his shoulder into Zane as he passes.
Mara jumps back with a yelp, and Zane gets knocked off-balance, nearly eating pavement.
“What the fuck?!” he sputters, catching himself at the last second. His face twists with outrage.
Mara’s eyes are huge as she grabs Zane’s arm, steadying him. “Hey! What the hell is your problem?!” she shouts at Dredyn.
I step between them, throwing my hands up. “Okay, okay, let’s not start a fucking lawsuit in the middle of campus, yeah?”
Zane glares at me. “Control your fucking pit bull.”
“He’s housebroken,” I say mildly. “Doesn’t bite unless provoked, which means you have, somehow, already struck a chord.”
Zane scoffs, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. “Jesus . . .”
I glance at Dredyn, but he’s not looking at Zane anymore.
He’s looking at her.
Mara.
And Mara?
She’s fuming.
Which—fuck, that’s cute.
Hands on her hips, glaring up at a two-hundred-pound nightmare like she’s ready to fight him herself.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands, anger making her voice ring out across the quad. “You think you can just go around shoving people?!”
Dredyn tilts his head slowly, considering her. And then, he grins. A lazy, chilling grin. “Yeah. Actually, I do.”
Mara blinks, taken aback by the sheer arrogance, just as Zane steps up beside her and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “See? This is why no one likes you, Steele,” Zane drawls. “You never learned how to behave like a human being.”
“You’re disgusting.” She spits at Dredyn. “And pathetic, if you think throwing your weight around makes you anything other than a bully.”
Dredyn’s smirk sharpens.
Oh, he likes this—the fight. The fire.
He’s dragging her down to our level.
He takes one step closer.
And she, stupidly and foolishly, stands her ground.
“Let me guess,” he murmurs. “Daddy taught you how to talk down to the little people, huh? Taught you how to keep your chin up while stepping on the rest of us?”
Her jaw locks. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
He leans in closer, not touching her but coming close enough that she flinches. “I know your type,” he says softly, crowd noise falling away. “Daddy’s caged girl. Chin up for the cameras, eyes down for the men who own you. You don’t float above me, Princess.” His mouth tilts, but not in a smile.
She exhales sharply, hating every second of this.
And Zane—who has been dramatically texting for the last thirty seconds—finally looks up. “You’re really monologuing like a fucking supervillain right now?”
Dredyn’s smirk falters.
I bark out a laugh.
Zane, you magnificent little shit.
Mara crosses her arms. “You’re nothing but a violent, insecure little boy, throwing tantrums because the world doesn’t cater to your every whim.”
Dredyn’s smile drops.
Oh.
Oh, she just fucked up.
The air around us shifts.
His posture doesn’t change, doesn’t tense, doesn’t clench. But the temperature? It plummets.
That easy, arrogant smirk? Gone.
Now, his eyes are cold.
And Mara realizes it too late.
Dredyn lunges, causing Mara to stumble back, blue eyes wide, lips parting on a startled gasp. The sound shoots straight through my veins like a drug.
God, the fear on her face… it’s fucking gorgeous. I’d almost let him get to her just to see what shade her blood makes on the pavement. Pink against gray. Wouldn’t that be a sight?
But I have to stop the fun early.
I step in fast, slapping a hand to his shoulder, catching him mid-surge. His body vibrates under my grip—coiled, straining, feral. I lean in, grinning, all charm and teeth. “All right, buddy, I think that’s enough for today. No need to traumatize the poor girl.”
His jaw ticks, fury simmering just beneath the skin, but he lets me guide him back. Just barely.
I turn to Mara, flashing my best smirk. “Princess,” I drawl, watching her stiffen. “It’s been fun, but some of us have real things to do today. Try not to miss us too much.”