Chapter 8 #3
Cassian tossed the empty vodka bottle behind him. It clattered across the floor and rolled under the couch. That reminded me I needed a new glass.
I pushed off the couch to return to the bar and pour myself another bourbon, letting the expensive amber liquid settle in the glass before taking a sip.
Then I turned and headed toward Seraphina.
She scooted over on the couch to make room for me, and I settled on the edge of the cushion beside her.
“You behaving?” I asked her.
My sister was the spitting image of my mother. Black hair and olive skin. A smile that could make both saints and criminals fall in love with her. And they did.
Her hair was braided into two neat French braids, each tied with a ridiculous pink bow. The bows made her look younger than she was.
While Seraphina lived a privileged life, being a Mafia princess came with teeth. She was a walking target for every enemy my family had ever made. My father kept her protected at all times. Her dorm was in the restricted wing, and she never left the main building without an escort.
Marriage proposals for her came in faster than a trigger pull. My father rejected every single offer, saying Seraphina was in control of her own future.
I’d told him that was fucking idiotic. An arranged marriage meant leverage, influence, and money. Seraphina slapped me for that comment, right there in my father’s office. He laughed and told me I deserved it. She gave me the silent treatment for a week after that.
That one was way too sensitive for her own good sometimes.
“Always,” she hummed with the innocence of a black swan.
“Who’d you walk here with?” I asked.
“Adelina and Daphne.”
“Good.”
The Secret Service followed Adelina around like dogs, which meant my sister got the same protection. Several of those agents had once been Night Sons themselves, but we didn’t allow them inside the Devil’s Lair. We didn’t want their old asses giving us advice.
Daphne leaned across Seraphina to get my attention. “Enzo, I have a question.”
I ignored her. Daphne could be on fire, and I’d do the same.
She poked my arm. I slapped her hand away like she had rabies.
“Why are you tormenting her new roommate?” Seraphina groaned. “Wasn’t one enough?”
“And who’s her new roommate?” I asked.
“Blair.”
“Oh.” I took a sip of bourbon. “The girl we dumped in the woods.”
“What?” Daphne screeched.
Seraphina punched my shoulder with the strength of a kitten, glaring at me.
“Relax,” I said, calm in the way of a man who’d already ordered the hit. “We left her close enough to the main building. She’ll find her way back.” I took another drink. “Probably.”
“Stop choosing her roommates,” Seraphina complained. “Or I’ll tell Dad to shoot you for my birthday.”
I knew she’d be mad about Blair. Seraphina still blamed me for Daphne’s emotional trauma over Clarissa. I cared about Daphne’s emotional trauma as much as I cared about Jett’s last breath.
“You’re ruining my social life,” Seraphina dragged on. “No one wants to be friends with the girl whose brother is a psycho.”
Gemma, Adelina, and Daphne all nodded, as if they all weren’t cut from the same corrupt cloth.
“You don’t need friends,” I told her. “They’re overrated.”
Adelina and Daphne both rolled their eyes.
Seraphina nudged me again. “You should seriously seek therapy.”
“I did.” I drained the rest of the glass. “Remember?”
“With a therapist you won’t fuck.”
“Boring,” I groaned. “She fixed my issues the easy way.”
Why bother with meds when you could come on your therapist instead?
I’d eventually lost interest in her, though.
She cried, which made me want to throw her out the window. That wasn’t the worst part. She claimed to have fallen in love with me, which made me want to jump off a bridge. In revenge for sharing that disgusting emotion, I sent her husband a video of me fucking her from behind.
Last I’d heard, they’d revoked her license and committed her after she ran her car into a concrete wall.
I tapped Seraphina’s arm. “Enough about me. Who among you troublemakers has black ribbon?”
“For what?” Seraphina asked with suspicion.
“I’m making care packages for the less fortunate,” I replied with a fake, sarcastic grin. “I’d like to tie them with a bow to make them pretty.”
“Swear to God, you’re going to hell,” Seraphina muttered.
I grinned wider, flashing my teeth. “Good. I look forward to ruling it with an iron fist.” I pushed myself off the cushion. “I’ll swing by your dorm later for the ribbons.”
Just thinking about entering Seraphina’s dorm room made me frown. Her dorm looked like Tinker Bell had vomited inside it with pink pillows, glitter, and fairy lights everywhere. She deserved to be disowned from the family just for that.
Blair would pay for me having to enter such a travesty.
“Because you have bad intentions for the ribbon, no,” Seraphina argued like I cared.
“You know the word no doesn’t exist in my vocabulary,” I replied.
“If there aren’t at least fifteen ribbon options laid out for me, you’re banned from the Devil’s Lair.
I’ll also inform our parents that Adelina pierced your belly button with what I would assume was an unsterile needle.
Fingers crossed you don’t get hepatitis. ”
Seraphina shoved my shoulder. “Blackmail. How unoriginal.”
I leaned down and kissed the top of her head anyway. “Love you too, little sister.”
Daphne stood, slinging her Prada bag over her shoulder. “I need to go make sure my roommate made it back to our dorm.”
“You’re going alone,” I said immediately, my voice turning hard as I rubbed my temple. “Neither of these girls will join you, especially Seraphina. I’ll notify Secret Service.”
Daphne crossed her arms, fiddling with her strap, biting back an argument. Before she could say anything, Brooks strode toward us, interrupting the conversation.
His jaw was tight, and his teeth were clenched.
“Enzo,” he bit out, almost panicked, which was a rarity, “we’ve got a problem.”
Brooks was the most levelheaded among us, meaning this was more than just a problem. This was something life or death.
And that was my cue.
I followed Brooks out of the Lair. Cassian and Nico were on our heels. We tore through the underground tunnels, headed straight for the Locker Hall.
As soon as the door shut behind us, Brooks hurled his phone across the room. It slammed into a locker and skidded across the floor while he paced like a caged animal.
Emeri looked up from his iPad in the same spot he’d been when we left. His knife was tucked into his shirt, the hilt peeking out while the blade’s tip pressed against his heart. He rolled a toothpick between his teeth and lifted a brow at me.
I shrugged, waiting for Brooks to explain what the fuck was going on.
Brooks stopped pacing and stared at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You know the senator challenging my father’s reelection bid?”
I scratched the back of my head. “The one who looks like the rat who raised the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”
Brooks’s hands curled into fists, and he nodded. “His son, Hedgeford, just threatened to leak a video of me fucking a campaign intern in the Oval Office unless my father drops out.”
He picked up his phone and shoved it toward me.
I took it, skimming the message.
The blackmail text was laughably amateur.
The idiot had sent it through a traceable number.
I rolled my shoulders, easing out the tension. “Emeri, you feel like riding with us?”
He cracked his knuckles. “Will there be blood?”
“Not immediately,” I replied. “But we get to blow something up.”
He shrugged. “I’m in.”
“Nico.” I turned my attention to him just as he unlocked his locker.
He shook his head. “I’m already in charge of dealing with Jett’s body. Consider me tapped out for the night.”
“Jett is a five-minute errand.” I mimed a shove.
“Up the steps and”—I flicked my hand—“out he goes.” I reached around him into his locker and grabbed a spare laptop.
“Hack into this Hedgeford kid’s shit. Virus everything.
Wipe anything tied to Brooks. If he has a girlfriend, dump her.
And if there are any dick pics, send them to everyone working on his father’s campaign and post them online.
Bonus points if there’s a video of him jacking off. ”
Nico saluted me.
I turned to Brooks. “Let’s go make sure your dad wins.”
Time to have some more fun.
It was sometime after four in the morning when I reached the cloister wall for my post-murder ritual.
The campus was dark and quiet as I stared up at the moon.
A two-hour drive had taken us off campus and straight to the frat house, where Hedgeford the Blackmailer was celebrating whatever pathetic milestone frat boys celebrated. Probably finding the latest roofie drug on the market.
I paid a drunk girl fifty bucks to steal his phone while Emeri slid under Hedgeford’s Lamborghini and planted a bomb under the chassis.
When we got back to campus, I stopped by Seraphina’s dorm and collected the ribbons she’d reluctantly laid out for me. From there, I made a quick detour to Blair’s room.
She had made it back safely and was snoring in her little bed nook. I’d also left her a few gifts to wake up to.
I’m nothing if not thoughtful.
Now, I walked the narrow cloister ledge, kicking my boots together as I moved along the stone and made a mental note to check the news in the morning.
Surely, the murder of a senator’s son—even a rat-looking motherfucker like him—would earn at least one headline.
After another hour of pacing the wall, I hopped down onto the courtyard grass. Before calling it a night, I slipped my mask back on, crossed the courtyard, and stopped outside Blair’s window.
I stood there for a moment, just in case she looked out.
My Fawn needed to know I was always watching.