Chapter 10
“S o what do you think of my book?” Yasmine’s voice cut through the quiet of our dorm, her eyes locking onto the book I clutched tightly in my hands.
I pushed myself up from my bed, much to Baron’s displeasure, who was enjoying a comfortable nap, purring on my lap.
“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever read!” I exclaimed, my voice rising in frustration. “How can she willingly give herself to that arrogant, demonic king? He thinks he’s all-powerful, but he’s just a…” I struggled to articulate the word that danced on the tip of my tongue. “A big ‘A’ with a kink for making a girl cry.”
Yasmine blinked, scanning our surroundings as if searching for an invisible skeleton lurking in our closet. “Are we still talking about the book, or did I miss something here? Because I don’t think he’s—”
“Are you taking his side?” I retorted, narrowing my eyes at her, causing Baron to abandon my bed in protest. “Because I’m not going to let him ruin my life or become this soulless cruel person! He’s not going to make me give up!”
She shifted closer, her main goal apparently to rescue her book from my wrath. “I think it’s time for some girl talk, but leave the book unharmed.”
I breathed deep, a smile tugging at my lips. “It’s okay. I just don’t think reading about a possessive villain is good for me.” When I have my own villain to deal with in real life.
“They’re walking red flags, and red has always been my favorite color,” Yas said. “So you don’t want to talk about it? We have a few minutes before the first years’ meeting in the common room.”
“No, let’s not make Sylas wait.” I switched my satin slippers for my ballerina shoes. I’d express my feelings tonight by sneaking into the music room to play.
As we walked down the hall, the weight of the impending Hazing Night hung heavily in the air. When we arrived, the common room was already populated with all the first-year Unifiers. Sylas stood at the center, gesturing for everyone to gather closer.
“As you may know, Pantheon’s first tradition of the year is Hazing Night.” His voice carried a sense of gravity. “But what we do here is not like what you may have experienced in high school. The four houses will battle each other. It’s a strategy in which we cannot arrive last. Most likely, at the end of the night, five percent of the first years will go back home. Surviving at Pantheon is a test, probably the hardest you’ll ever have to face, but it’ll reward you for life.”
Yas couldn’t help but interject with a humorous, “Creepy much?”
I swallowed, my inner coward urging me to flee. This was a free pass for a night of bullying. “Yeah.”
“Hazing will start in forty-eight hours, this Saturday between ten and eleven o’clock. Second and third year students of each house attack the first years of another house. The house with the most prisoners wins the first ten house points of the year. Second place wins five, third wins two, and the last zero.”
Right. I’d read about the House Cup—one of Pantheon’s oldest traditions. At the end of the year, the House with the most points won, and usually, the top spot varied between Tacticians and Pioneers.
“In order for you first years to be captured by the enemy, they must grab the flag of the color of our house, which will be attached to your arm: see it as a chase. Departures will be given at the entrance to our respective dormitories. So you, first years, are the prey, and you have one hour to escape your hunters.”
One student raised his hand hesitantly. “Can any of us sit out on Hazing Night?”
“Not likely. We stand in unity. We’re stronger together, especially since we’ll face the strongest house this year.”
“Which house has to catch us, captain?” another asked.
Sylas grinned. “The Tacticians.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. My blood ran cold. Whispers gathered across the room. I was already imagining that maniac finding new ways to torture me. My father could never hear about this tradition.
“We—second and third-year students—must catch the first-year Guardians. They’ll have to catch the Pioneers, who have to catch the Tacticians, who have to catch us.”
“Only the first years who get caught have to suffer the hazing of the house that captured them. We can’t catch anyone; we’re just prey,” Yasmine whispered. “My sister never told me what happened during her hazing. I just knew she was caught by a Tactician hunter. She never wanted to talk about it. I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Isn’t hazing illegal?” I asked her. “Why would the university allow this?”
“Pantheon considers it a bonding ritual for first years within their house, but they’re clueless about half of what goes down on Hazing Night. No one would dare report the hazing; the others would turn on them.”
“So the upperclassmen pressure the students into silence so they can act however they want,” I said.
Yasmine rubbed her arm to dispel her chills. “Yeah, that’s the world of the elite. Rules don’t apply to them. If you don’t make it, you’re out, like the five percent of students who drop out.”
“Their commander and strategist will be Levi Delombre, which means we can expect him to be as ruthless as he’s been in previous years,” Sylas continued. “We’ll need to outsmart him. I know how he thinks, and, with his ego, he’s unlikely to chase students in the field. Last year, during the Tacticians match against the Guardians, he stayed in his control tower and guided his team through security cameras to locate their opponents. We can’t allow that this year. They’re already underestimating us; it’s time to show all the houses what we’re truly capable of.”
The Unifiers had placed last for four consecutive years; we were the easy target.
“What’s your plan, boss?” a student yelled.
“You’ll leave your phones in your dorms. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering smoke machines to disorient them. We’ll create a smoke cloud around us. It’ll be difficult for them to determine our direction at the departure point, giving us a few minutes’ advantage.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. Each house was playing on their strengths. The Pioneers would undoubtedly charge headfirst, unafraid of confrontation. The Guardians would disappear. The Tacticians would establish a concrete strategy. That left us following Sylas’s plan to leverage our group’s strength and creativity to hope for the best.
“In the meantime, I need a brave soul to infiltrate the enemy lines. This person will have to enter their common room without being caught and turn off the electric generator of the Tacticians building. It will provide the opportunity for us to hide and disrupt Levi’s plans. Who’s up for it?”
Several hands shot up in the air.
“Your risk of being captured is high. Therefore, You will have to participate in games that the opposing team has planned for you and succeed if you want to be freed. Hazing lasts until midnight, and you have a good chance of coming face-to-face with Levi.”
All hands were instantly lowered.
“No volunteers?” Sylas sighed.
I clenched my fists. I did not like violence, but violence existed in this world. I had seen it firsthand the day my mother died. Violence had taken what was the most precious to me. I was raised to ignore it and avoid it, but it never led me anywhere.
“I’ll do it,” I said, raising my hand.
“What the heck, Dalia?” Yas’s voice perched.
“I’m not scared of Levi, and it’s about time he gets a taste of his own medicine. I’m tired of being a victim.”
“Then it’s time I put all my survival knowledge from my mafia books into practice.” Yas always had a way of comparing fiction with reality—it was one of the things I adored about her. She squinted her eyes, raising her hand. “I’ll go with her.”
We exchanged a knowing smile, united in our resolve.
Sylas hesitated, briefly opening his mouth before closing it with a frown. “Are you both sure?”
“Yes,” we replied in unison.
After all, my family’s legacy was warfare.
It was about time I played a part in it.
Levi Delombre, if it’s war you want, then it’s war you’ll get.
I strolled back from the computer lab and found myself taking a detour by the music building on my way to our chess club. It was midnight, and a blanket of silence had settled over the university. While the solitude and darkness were oddly comforting, a sanctuary from the chaos of my brain, the silence was always dreadful.
I’d noticed a feeble light in the music studio, and like fate would have wanted, I followed the light, a whisper of music catching my attention. Violin . The hair on my skin hissed like a predator alert of danger.
“Well, look at that,” I muttered to myself, making my mind believe this stalker move was all an unfortunate coincidence.
I halted before the grand doors, fixed on the silhouette of my broken doll playing the violin. She stood in the center of the deserted room, bathed in the moonlight filtering through the windows. The star-studded night sky was her backdrop, constellations twinkling like precious gems around her. She was wholly devoted to her music, her bow sliding gracefully across the violin strings. The notes carried a sense of tragedy that could rival Shakespeare’s most sorrowful tales.
So she’d somehow managed to replace her broken violin.
It had been more than four years since I’d heard her music, and it should have stayed that way.
I hate her.
I hate her.
I —
I closed my eyes, her sound penetrating the abyss of my rotten soul. I’d recognize her playing anywhere. It was unique, inhabited, dramatic—so warm, like the dark color of ebony. Its touch was very profound, almost alto. Her music always calmed the beast inside me. Her fucking music. Only hers.
She took me into her world. A better world. A beautiful world.
The door creaked on the floor when I pushed it open, but she was too possessed to notice me, her music mirroring the turbulent rhythm of my own heartbeat. It was as if she had summoned the forces of heaven and hell to gather by her side.
Her darkness called out to mine, and when I gunned my eyes to the object of my hatred, a shared abyss reflected in her eyes. I could hear her pain, her anger, her defiance. I could feel it.
And she was giving it all to me.
I was the sole listener.
It was only her and me in this macabre dance.
It’s beautiful. Peaceful.
My own feelings repulsed me. I always loathed how she made me feel. Of all the music in the world, why did it have to be only hers that created these fucking goose bumps on my skin?
I should snatch her violin, pin her against the wall, and drive into her as she chanted my name. I’d take every inch of her innocence. Every fiber of my being yearned to corrupt her, to shatter the illusion of the good, weak girl her father believed her to be. I wanted to return her as my own creation, a hellion I alone could appreciate. I wanted to kiss her so hard it’d bruise her lips. Take and not give her an ounce of me. I should take everything.
Everything .
“It’s you,” she whispered, the last music note faltering.
I took a step back, hiding in the darkest corners.
“I know you’re here.”
“Continue,” my voice almost begged her.
“Why?” Her voice defied me.
I clenched my jaw, shutting my lips close in one hard line. “I could make you.”
“It’s not enough,” she said. “Now, leave, Levi.”
“It eases the pain,” I dropped, knowing this was why she was playing too. Not to hear the voice of the silence. Especially at night. That was where the ghosts of your past came to haunt you. “I’ll leave you alone for two days if you play for two minutes.”
Just two more minutes.
The slightest smile curled her lips. “Fine.”
She drew her bow on the strings, and I sat on the floor, throwing my head on the wall outside the music room. I’d never stood in the same room as her as she played, and it felt like the closer I got, the more I was going to destroy the melody and take away its beauty.
My demons went quiet. Time stood still, and the memory I’d buried with the rest of my childhood resurfaced. The day she left the door of the music room open. I remembered that pathetic kid sitting on the stairs, begging to see what was so special about her for my mother to care. The moment I heard her first note, I was done for.
It had hit me right in the chest, like a fucking arrow. This pathetic kid was entranced by her siren song, and goose bumps ravaged his body. That kid had never felt something so raw, beautiful, and pure before. It made him almost believe people could be good. That the world wasn’t so bad.
That he could snatch what he imagined love could feel like for himself.
That he, too, could be loved.
He was wrong.
There was no such thing as hope and love. The scars on his arms, and his heart, so black and ruined, roughly sewn back together so that it could barely function, would disgust any human.
“Levi?” Dalia’s voice seemed near, and her music had stopped. “It’s been two minutes.”
Legs were in front of me, and I looked up to find her facing me while I sat like some pathetic shit on the floor. I quickly rose. Feelings made you powerless. The world wasn’t pretty. I’ll break all of them.
“Enjoy your last two days alone,” I rasped. “Because after that, our game will start again. I’ll see you at Hazing Night.”
With a determined stride, I pushed her shoulder and departed from the studio. I should never have listened to her music again. The silence felt worse afterward. The ghosts of my past were catching up with me. When Mother dearest had the nerve to leave me, when she decided to end her life—a bit selfish on her part—she didn’t even bother to give me the heads-up so I could properly tell her how much I despised her.
Instead, she left me a letter. And in that letter, she’d written: you’ll find the answer you seek. I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to tell you.
As if being sorry could fix everything. At least the huge inheritance she had no choice but to give me had been useful to my plan. My mother loved puzzles and treasure hunts. Even in her death, she was still messing with me—probably to try to push me over the edge with her. I’ll be there soon, Mother. To make sure to torment her for eternity.
I didn’t have musical talent despite the numerous piano lessons she imposed on me until she had abandoned me to my loathsome stepfather. Yet she left me two music scores to accompany her kind riddle. Music scores that were unreadable.
At first, I wanted to know.
I wanted to know why she did what she did. I had to know if it was because of me, because I was unlovable, a monster that pushed her over the edge. I had to understand. Why? Why? Fucking why!
In the beginning, I felt guilty, but now I felt nothing .
Playing her mind game drove me insane. These music scores glared at me every damn day for four years. The same unanswered question grew larger and larger like a tumor.
She made me feel powerless .
She and Dalia both did in their own way.
I burst unceremoniously into our Tactician’s chess club, revealing Cillian and Kay locked in a fierce chess game between the carved stone walls. It smelled like ink and mustiness in there.
“You took your time,” Kay taunted, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
I sauntered into the room, my gaze locking onto the ivory chessboard. They were playing a five-minute blitz game. A quick analysis told me that Cillian held the upper hand; Kay’s pawn supply had been thoroughly depleted. He shouldn’t have played a Caro-Kann Defense. Cillian’s repertoire was strong against it. Without a word, I shoved Kay aside and claimed his spot at the table.
“You’ve picked the losing side,” Cillian prodded. “I was just in the process of relieving Kay of his wealth.”
I cast a fleeting glance at the pile of cash on the table. “The game is far from over.”
I laid out a trap and planned the future sacrifice of my knight. In fifteen moves, I saw an opening for checkmate.
“So what are we going to do for Hazing Night?” a student cut to the chase.
All eyes fell upon me as if I was the only one with a brain in that room.
Cillian took the bait, falling right into my trap. “Come on, Delombre, you must have something up your sleeve.”
“I do.”
With a discovered attack, I was free to take Cillian’s first bishop, infiltrating his territory with my only remaining rook to wreak carnage in his pawn barrier on the queenside. Cillian leaned in, tapping his finger on the chessboard.
“The Unifiers are predictable,” I stated. “They place their faith in group harmony, and Sylas, with his personal vendetta against me, has undoubtedly gathered them to outline a unified strategy—a trap designed specifically for me.”
Cillian frowned, seeing how the chess game was turning in my favor.
“What do you think they’re going to do? Should we plan a repost with—”
“No,” I stated flatly. “I’ll play right into their hands, but I’ll also concoct a surprise of my own. You’ll divide into groups of five and wait beneath the strategic exits of their dormitories. Don’t chase them inside; they’ve likely laid traps since they know I can spot them.” I promoted my pawn to a queen. It was mate in five. “Check.”
Cillian snorted. He knew as well as I that it’d be over for him soon, but Tacticians never resigned. “I’ll beat you next time.”
He maneuvered his king to safety.
“On another note, I’ve had masks delivered, like the ones of Los Calaveras.” Kay grinned as if wearing the skull masks of a terrorist group who called themself mercenaries was fashionable. “We’re going to scare the living hell out of them.”
The Tacticians wanted to take them to our catacombs inside the underground tunnels, but the last time they’d done that, Mr. Morgan got enraged. He categorized it as dirtying the heritage, and I’d had to fix their mess.
“And about our first years? They’re against the Pioneers. They’re brutal,” a second year worried.
Honestly, I didn’t give a damn about our first years. I’d never asked to be a leader. I wasn’t the type to run after people or chase anyone. I wasn’t like Sylas, even if a part of me wondered if my little doll was scared by the idea that I’d come after her, and that she’d be under my mercy.
“Reward those who escape. If they fail, it suggests they’re easy prey. As Tacticians, I believe they should be capable of finding their way out. If not, perhaps they belong with the Unifiers,” I suggested, laughter echoing as I successfully trapped Cillian, my rook eating his last bishop.
I leaned back in my chair, a sly grin curving my lips. My queen in b6. His king in a4. His worthless knight, incapable of stopping my rook in c4. “Checkmate.”
Cillian’s lips turned into a frigid smile. While he could spare a draw against me in a normal chess game, he was done for during a blitz.
“If anyone can beat this sadistic asshole, I’ll give you ten thousand dollars!” Kay deadpanned, but no one came to take a seat to duel me. “Really? You’re all a bunch of cowards!”
“Oh, and one more thing,” I added, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. Standing, I showcased my new collection of ribbons tied around my wrist. One silver, one green. “The girl with the white hair and ribbons is mine to toy with.”
I stormed out of the room, leaving the chessboard behind to head to my real-life chess game. My steps were swift and purposeful as I made my way toward the entrance of the Pioneer’s dorms. I had a clandestine, late-night rendezvous to attend with the person I had selected to be my servant knight in this battle.
“You’re late,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “If you asked me here to suck your dick, you can go back to your dorm and ask your white-haired girl to do it for you.”
“Now, why so hostile, Tara?” I drawled, taking a moment to savor her clenched jaw and the simmering anger in her eyes. “As awful as it sounds, I’m not here for that.”
She squared her shoulders, attempting to maintain a facade of defiance. “What do you want, Levi?”
My sinister smile deepened. “The question is what I can do for you, Tara.”
“I’m going to catch all your first years on Hazing Night.” Her words were laced with venom. “If you’re here to save them, you can—”
I silenced her with a move forward, and leaning in, my lips hovered against her ear. There, I whispered the threat that’d sent her heart racing, detailing the dark and villainous plans I had in mind. I could practically feel the tension in her body. Tara only had one weakness.
“You wouldn’t,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re a fucking bastard! You’re sick!”
“Oh, we both know I would,” I assured her. “Now, what’s it going to be, Tara? It’ll be regrettable. I’d have to waste my time hurting Yasmine while we could both have what we want if you agree to my generous offer.”