Chapter 1 #2
The Ouroboros Society tends to attract information brokers and hackers. Once pledges get to their sophomore year, they can, if they wish, move out of the dorms and into The Atheneum, the Gothic former campus library turned Ouroboros housing. That's where Ari and I live.
Wren and Yelena are both in The Order, which pulls in the strategists, planners, and future puppet masters. They’re also suitemates at the—in my humble opinion—ultra-creepy and totally haunted Morvaine Manor, which sits halfway into the woods, way too close to the old graveyard for my liking.
There’s also The Reckless, who are exactly what they sound like: thrill-seekers and adrenaline junkies who treat common sense like a communicable disease. They live in The Spire, an ancient, crumbling old stone watchtower jutting up from the ocean on a jagged rock set off from the main cliffs.
Lastly there's Para Bellum, whose membership includes the future kings, queens, dons, pakhans, and heads of major crime families, cartels, syndicates, and organizations from every corner of the world. In keeping with their “royal” nature, Para Bellum members live at Kingsward Hall: a sprawling, gorgeous, gothic and Romanesque-style mansion. As if the outside wasn’t castle-like enough, it boasts interiors showing various battles and scenes from mythology painted in French Baroque style across the vaulted ceilings.
Kingsward Hall is also the place to be on campus tonight, due to Para Bellum throwing their first official party of the semester. So here we are, all dolled up and looking hot with our mandatory black Venetian masks and the crown stamps from the front door freshly inked on the backs of our hands.
“Hey…” Lucia frowns and glances past me. “Where did Yelena go?”
“Saw someone from one of her classes.” Wren shrugs and knocks back the rest of her drink.
Arianna sighs heavily. “She better not have pulled another Irish goodbye and dipped. I’m sticking it out, and I hate things like this.”
One of the catering staff—Para Bellum doesn’t exactly shy away from reminding everyone else how “lordly” and regal they are—walks past with a tray of what look like Jell-O shots.
Wren grins widely and plucks two off the tray before immediately downing both of them. Ari and I exchange a look, but we don’t say anything.
Real talk: Wren’s drinking has gotten a little much lately. But she also recently broke up with her God-awful boyfriend, Bryce, when she walked in on him literally mid-thrust with another girl.
Ick and good fucking riddance, if you ask me.
“Come on,” Wren laughs. “Lena wouldn’t just leave like that. We just got here.”
Ari cocks a brow. “I think this semester’s version of Yelena would.” She frowns and looks at Wren, Lena’s best friend. “Anything about that you can share?”
Wren shrugs. “I would if I could. Something’s definitely been up since right before the semester started. I’ve asked, but…” She lifts her shoulders again. “Let’s talk about something else. I don’t want to gossip.”
“Same.” I nod and grin to myself as I take another sip of the shitty college party beer.
It’s almost time.
Time for me to quietly disappear and do what I came here to do tonight.
Lucia clears her throat. “Um, Untouchables, twelve o’clock.”
A shiver ripples down my spine as I turn. The three of them walk into the party, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.
In a school full of mafia royalty, “The Untouchables” are on another level altogether. Think veritable gods walking amongst us mere mortals.
They’re the top dogs of Para Bellum, heirs to some of the most powerful mafia families in the country and star players on the Privateers, the college’s undefeated football team.
They also have the entire campus either eating out of their hand or outright terrified of them.
Achilles Drakos, golden boy of campus that he is, is the one with the whole school in his palm. He’s gorgeous, charismatic, the captain of the football team, the president of Para Bellum, and top of his class.
Drago Krylov, meanwhile, gives more of a scary vibe. He’s a jock like the other three, but he’s also a bit of a walking nightmare between his dark, broody looks, huge, hulking frame and loud motorcycle…not to mention his close connections with the Bratva through his father’s empire.
Then there are the Kildare brothers, Lochlan and Ronan.
Both are clearly trouble or bad decisions waiting to happen, not to mention total jocks.
Ronan, I honestly don’t know well at all.
His older brother Lochlan, future king of the Kildare family, TAs one of my psych classes, but all he mostly does is sit in the back probably collecting a free A since Professor McGrath has drunk the Untouchables Kool-Aid along with the rest of the school.
Currently, it looks like Achilles is missing from the group. Even masked, it’s clear who both Ronan and Drago are from the tattoos on their arms. Lochlan, the entitled jerk, isn’t even wearing his mask.
My eyes narrow on the tall, blond, blue-eyed, criminally attractive Irish mafia heir.
I don't know much about him except that when he’s not fucking off in the back of Professor McGrath’s Psychology of Deception and Performance class and actually performs his TA duties, he’s mostly a power-tripping dickhead.
I mean a gorgeous dickhead, but still. The man's ego is insane.
Just the same, I feel my cheeks stain with color as the three of them waltz through the party, which obviously parts for them like the Red Sea.
“So hot,” Lucia groans.
Wren glances at her curiously. “Which one?”
“Yes.”
I cackle as Lucia grins.
“Okay, but specifically Drago. Hnngg,” she sighs.
Arianna’s face sours. “Seriously? He’s a walking nightmare. Also, I heard he’s got a pierced…” Her face heats. “You know.”
Wren snickers. “Ari, you can say dick.”
Arianna’s face turns an even darker shade of red.
Yeah, no, she can’t.
Wren raises her shoulders. “They’re hot, I guess, but…” She shrugs again. “I dunno. I think I’m over boys.”
I give her a sympathetic look. “Seriously, fuck Bryce.”
“Well, actually, the goal would be not to fuck Bryce ever again,” she says curtly. “Not difficult, trust me.”
She turns and steps a few feet away to snag another drink off the tray of a passing waitstaff. Ari glances at me nervously and clears her throat.
“Isn’t the girl who Bryce cheated on her with—”
“In Para Bellum?” Lucia hisses. “Yup. Carly Presioso. If you see her, hide all the sharp objects from our girl.”
I giggle, but then I glance at my watch and a shiver ripples through me.
Go time.
It’s the thrill that keeps me doing this. The rush of adrenaline. The knowledge that I shouldn’t be doing it, and that getting caught would mean this whole thing blowing up in my face in spectacular fashion.
Plus, deep down, I like being seen.
Watched.
Desired.
“Okay, guys.” I glance at my friends as Wren rejoins the group. “Think I’m gonna go pee and then mingle a little.”
“Should we tell Mr. Scream Mask that you’re ovulating?” Ari says with a grin.
I roll my eyes, promise to find them again soon, and then slip away.
But not to use the ladies' room.
I make my way through the party, saying hi to a few people I recognize. Then I take the stairs to the second floor of Kingsward Hall.
The third floor, with the bedrooms of the Para Bellum higher-up members, is off-limits for the party. There’s even a little “No admittance” sign on the staircase heading up there. But that isn’t where I’m going.
I gradually make my way to the back of the second floor of the sprawling mansion until I reach the door to the library. Like the staircase up to the bedrooms, there’s another small sign hung on a little chain across the doorway that says “No admittance”.
Perfect. I won’t get interrupted.
I glance around to make sure there’s no one about, then deftly open the door and duck under the chain to step into the room.
It’s practically pitch dark inside, the only light coming from the moon and the low pathway lights dotting the campus outside. I shiver with a flash of excitement in the stillness, feeling my pulse beginning to quicken.
Showtime.
I find my bag hidden exactly where I stashed it yesterday, still with the leather schoolgirl-inspired fetish wear and mask inside.
Trevor Cohen, heir to a mid-level Kansas City mafia family who happens to be in my Psychology of Deception and Performance class, has been trying to get me to "come over and hang out" with him at Kingsward Hall since he pledged Para Bellum last year.
Yesterday, I finally took him up on it. Not because I suddenly decided I was open to Trevor’s obvious come-ons, but because my fans crave a little drama.
They'd love a tease about who I might be. And since Mariana Guzman raised the stakes the other day by pointing out that my last video was shot in Ravencroft Library here on campus, I’ve decided to raise them a bit more.
On my own terms.
Just to be safe, I lock the door. Then I pull the tripod out of the bag I hid in here after spending a grand total of three minutes with Trevor, who clearly thought he was going to get lucky.
After that’s set up, I attach the ring light and turn it on so I can see what I’m doing.
I strip off the pink and white dress I wore tonight and gently lay it over a nearby table.
My bra and panties are next, and I shiver a little as the forbidden thrill of being naked in the Kingsward Hall library ripples across my skin.
Tonight’s costume features an insanely short pleated leather skirt, thigh-high fishnets, a white, short-sleeved blouse that ties in a knot just under my tits, and a leather choker with a gleaming silver O-ring at the front of it.
Oh, and of course, my long blonde wig and black-and-crimson masquerade mask.
There’s nothing under the skirt, because…well, for one, I’m mostly filming from the waist up anyway. But also?
It turns me on.
It gives me a secret thrill: performing for strangers, masked, and therefore able to be a version of myself that I normally keep hidden.