Chapter 9
Something is coming. Something strange. It's in the air. A scent that floats on the breeze, tickling my senses. Like the scent of sweet rainwater flowing from the angry clouds twisting above us.
More rain? It's fucking odd for this time of year. Even in general. Thunderstorms aren't unheard of in our region, but they're far and few between. But lately? They’ve been occurring more often than not.
That means a storm is coming. In one way or another.
But what type of storm will it be? Rain? Hail?
I check over my shoulder, peering at the faces behind me, expecting to see a familiar one in the crowd. But it’s only the other students, peeking through their eyelashes, aching to catch a glimpse of the kings of campus.
Us.
A title we've carved out for ourselves from the moment we stepped foot on campus our freshman year. The year Greenwood University became ours and the rules changed. For better or worse? I haven't figured it out yet.
“Things will be different this year,” Franco says from the corner of his office overlooking the casino.
A crisp black suit molds to his frame, highlighting his muscles underneath. Neon lights flash through the window, painting his face in pinks and greens as the sounds of happy gamblers echo through the room. He turns on his polished heels, grinning victoriously.
My stomach churns. Something isn't right. College is our escape from it all. Him. This life. He insisted we get our degrees to further our family business, and so we are. But that grin on his chiseled face? It blares warning sirens in my mind.
“Yeah, they will! We're off to college,” Mack agrees with a grin, excitement thrumming through him.
He's been ready to leave the nest for over a year and get Franco off our backs.
“About that.” Franco points a finger at Mack, grinning more.
Yeah. There's something up his damn sleeve. Wonderful.
“We're still enrolled, right?” Mack asks cautiously, side-eyeing me like I might know something.
All the excitement and hope drains from him quickly. Mack was the most thrilled out of the three of us to get his degree, taking a step away from the life he was given. He's always wanted to do better for himself and put distance between himself and his mother's addictions.
I discreetly shake my head at Mack. Franco barely keeps me in the loop as it is. I have no idea where he's going with this.
“Two months ago, I made a sizable donation to Greenwood University. You're looking at one of the newest board members.” He holds out his hands like a ta-da moment, like this is some sort of magic trick he’s been hiding from us.
“Cool,” Mack retorts with less enthusiasm.
“What's your angle?” I ask, cocking my head, knowing the bastard has something up his sleeve. A long time ago, Franco instilled his ‘ask no questions, do as I say’ policy. It was hammered into our skulls the moment we started training under him and working for his cause.
But I’ve never been the kind of guy to follow the rules.
Every step of the way–much to his annoyance–I question everything he does.
Watch his every move, trying to figure out what’s coming next.
I want reasons and answers for his calculated steps.
Sometimes I get a frown or a pop to the jaw.
Other times, he gives me vague answers that satisfy my need to know.
Franco nods. “Don't you trust me?”
Not at all, but I don’t say that out loud for him to hear.
Nothing he's ever done has proven we can trust him. He's put us through the ringer to become his heirs-in-waiting. Me more than JJ and Mack. They’re more like my second-in-commands. Well, in Franco’s eyes, anyway. They’re my brothers. My best friends. We barely keep secrets from each other.
Franco raised me from the moment I was born.
His wife brought me home swaddled in a hospital blanket, crying about how I had been abandoned and needed them to raise me.
Her, more than him. When I was two, she died unexpectedly.
I don’t remember the specifics, and Franco never gives up the answers, but I know it was tragic.
It sent Franco into a spiral, and he threw himself into his businesses, trying to expand, build, and grow.
The only sign that Mikayla Franco was ever alive is the pictures lining the walls of his office.
She dreamed of filling her home with children’s laughter but was unable to produce herself.
So, to fulfill her wishes, Franco became a foster father, raising me, JJ, and Mack when we had no other place to go.
Or them, more so. My origins are shady at best. Never knew who my real parents were or how I came to be.
“Greenwood University is the future,” Franco says, shutting down my rampant thoughts.
“I've taken the liberty of reaching out to other crime families, gangs, and criminals eager for a higher education. We'll be the premier university for masterminds in the making. We’ll offer courses for their benefit. And ours.”
“Criminals?” Mack asks, twisting his expression. JJ, on the other hand, sits between us, studying Franco with a blank expression.
“You’re wanting to create alliances?” JJ surmises, rubbing at his chin.
“Among other things,” Franco says, not elaborating further. “Alliances. More opportunities. It'll be good for our economy and businesses. More money in our pockets. The return will be plentiful, and you boys will be the key to making this work.”
“You want us to work with the other gangs coming?” JJ asks, tilting his head. “You want to create something bigger.”
“Smart boy.” He offers JJ a prideful grin. “Bigger and better than ever, boys. Imagine having feelers all over the globe. Allies who bring more money to our pockets.” He raises his brows.
And more people under his thumb. He's not wanting allies. He wants playthings to manipulate and conquer. This is all a part of his chess game. He's strategically setting up pawns and kings until he can swoop in for the kill.
I can see it now. Our future of college freedom is gone. We'll be working and organizing shit under the other gang’s noses. Spying on them, no doubt. If Franco has his fingers in the college board, then everyone else is already ten steps behind.
Including us.
“And what's the plan?” I ask, leaning back on the couch, feigning intrigue despite the lead filling my stomach with dread.
“Frat row has been dismantled, and those chapters have been sent packing. All five houses on Greenwood Ave have been assigned to the crime families who accepted our invitations. They get a free education for life, degrees, and a plethora of initiates to choose from in the student body. In return, I get money and alliances.” The smirk lighting up his face as he reveals his master plan has goosebumps crawling up my flesh.
“This is a new future for Greenwood University. And us…”
And what a goddamn future he brought to Greenwood.
Whatever his initial plan was for this place, it kicked off our freshman year.
Exploded, more like it. The student body expanded.
New classrooms, dorms, apartments, and libraries were built, expanding the campus to the edges of the properties, resulting in more land being bought and more shit being built.
Greenwood University boomed into a prestigious higher learning facility overnight.
Everyone wants a piece of this place. It’s the Harvard of our area.
No one competes with us. We have the best sports team, filled with eager students ready for a win.
The best in academics, earning multitudes of awards.
Greenwood University is the place to be.
Too bad every person on the board of G.U.
has a say in who enters this place and who doesn’t.
And their leader? Fucking Franco. So, you bet your ass he only picks the best criminals to bring here and offer them housing.
Oh, and let’s not forget the elites, as well.
Governors. Mayors. Government officials.
Movie stars. Models. You name it, he’s allowing their children entry for a damn price.
So, mix that in with the scholarship students that he hand-picks, too–it’s a recipe for disaster.
Not only have scholarship students been losing their lives or fleeing after a month’s time here, but bodies have been piling up over the summer.
He’s created the perfect scenario for himself. The perfect allies and soldiers can be recruited after they are vetted by us. His little sheep.
Fuck. I grind my teeth. We’ve never had issues with anyone on campus, except for a few run-ins here and there with other gangs, trying to show off.
They never win, though. Neither do Malic and Wilder–our biggest fucking adversaries on campus.
It’s like their main purpose in life is to fuck with us and what we have.
For whatever reason, it’s like their mysterious boss came up with a checklist and put us at the top for them to knock around. It’s been four years of this shit.
If it were up to us, we’d isolate ourselves from the masses. However, with Franco having eyes and ears on campus, we must play these parts perfectly.
“They found another body,” JJ murmurs, putting his phone into his pocket. “Closer to the casino this time.”
“Missing organs?” I ask, looking around the crowd again, making sure no one is paying attention to us. Not even Mack notices us huddling closer together.
“The whole nine yards. You don’t think she…” He swallows a lump in his throat.
I shake my head. “Fuck, I hope not.”
“Should we mention the body to Franco?” JJ’s gaze shifts to me.
“He doesn’t seem too concerned, but I’ll shoot him a text.”
Quickly, I pull out my phone and do just that.
Not that Franco will care. If it’s not harming his business, then he doesn’t need to care.
It’s just another murder in his eyes. But there’s something fishy about it all.
Especially with the body of a student who showed up near the beginning of the summer.