Secrets and Lies (Silvercrest U #5)

Prologue

West

Three years ago

Electric energy crackles under my skin as I check the time on my phone for what must be the dozenth time.

Not even a minute has passed since I last looked.

I zip the damn thing into my pocket and slide off my bed.

I might as well head out now so I don’t spend the next few minutes working myself up into a panic attack.

The house is quiet as I leave my room, and I quickly cut across the hall and slip into the side stairwell leading down to the main floor.

The lobby is dark as I come out of the stairwell, but I can see two figures wearing black robes with oversized hoods standing near the exit, and there are two guys walking toward them.

Anxiety and nerves tumble around in my stomach, and I slow my pace as the two guys ahead of me approach the hooded figures.

I can’t hear what any of them are saying from back here, but I watch as one figure wraps a bracelet around the wrist of each man ahead of me as the other pulls a coin out of a small velvet bag.

He waves his phone over the coin and hands it to the first guy, then does the same with another coin for the second guy, and the two of them quickly exit the house.

Swallowing down some of my nerves, I walk toward the figures, trying to look confident and calm and not like I’m about to crawl out of my skin from nerves.

“Hand,” one of them says.

I lift my arm, and he snaps a silver bracelet around my wrist.

“Side button when you’re out, top and bottom button if you’re in trouble,” he says, and I recognize his voice. It’s Matt, one of the senior members. “Got it?”

“Yus. I mean, yes.” I cringe at my little flub. I was going to say “yup” and decided at the last second that “yes” was better, and of course my mouth made a weird mashup of the two words.

“Do you consent to take part in the Hunt?” the other figure, whose voice I recognize as Lachlan, another senior member of the leadership team, asks.

“I do.”

He pulls a gold coin about the size of a silver dollar out of a small velvet bag and holds it out with a flourish.

I know it’s part of the ceremony, but it just looks so silly with the costumes and the dim lighting that I have to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh at the ridiculousness of everything.

After a few seconds, Lachlan lowers the coin, and Matt takes a picture of it with his phone, then he hands it to me.

Taking it from him, I slip the coin into my pocket and head out of the building and into the cool night air.

The annual Hunt has been a Keeper house tradition since its founding, and while the game has changed, the importance of it hasn’t.

Originally, the Hunt was a mandatory, house-wide event that went all night, and the only rule was no killing or maiming your opponents. Over the years, things have changed from full-contact combat to more of a tackle and wrestle thing to the glorified version of tag that it is today.

And unlike how things were in the beginning, participation is voluntary for everyone except first years, and the event starts at eleven and ends at one in the morning instead of being an all-night thing.

The rules have also changed over the years, and now there are only four.

Rule number one is that either the last man standing, or the one with the most tokens when the time runs out, wins.

Two, once you consent to participate, you must play the game.

Three, you can only leave the Hunt by getting out or by using your panic button and quitting.

And the last rule is that we’re not allowed to hurt each other or fuck each other up.

The event doesn’t have a fixed date because it always takes place on the night of the Hunter's Moon, which is October’s full moon.

Each participant is given a coin with a unique serial number on it as a token.

Then we’re sent into the woods where we’re supposed to track and hunt down our frat brothers to get their tokens while we try to avoid getting caught.

Compared to a lot of the house events I’ve heard about and taken part in over the last six weeks, the Hunt is pretty tame, but it’s not the event itself that’s a big deal—it’s the reward.

Whoever wins gets to keep all the coins from participating brothers, but the real prize is the veto vote, which gives the winner the ability to overrule the results of whatever house vote they choose outside of procedural ones like house elections or decrees that come directly from the alumni.

And the bragging rights are apparently pretty sweet too.

Keeping to the paths, I make my way toward the muster point for the start of the Hunt, and I can’t help marveling at how bright it is, even though it’s almost eleven at night.

One reason the Hunt is held the night of the Hunter's Moon is that it’s one of the brightest nights of the year, and right now the moon is big and full, with an orange tinge to it that makes everything feel a little wild and primal.

I’m just coming up on The Crypt, which is an old, abandoned house on the outskirts of campus that’s surrounded by woods on three sides and an open field on the other, when the loud whine of a siren, sort of a mix between a tornado warning and a pack of bobcats screaming, fills the night.

That’s the signal that things are about to start, and I cut across the field at a fast jog to join the crowd of guys already gathered in front of the woods.

I see Damon, my best friend, hanging out off to the side and a bit away from the others, and I make a beeline for him.

Damon is a year older than me, and we’ve been best friends since we met at boarding school. We’re pretty much opposites in every way, including our looks, but he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. And the only friend who’s stuck by me for more than a few years.

“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this again,” he says as I come to stand with him.

“You know it’s a good idea.” I absently pat my pockets to make sure I have my phone. “It’s like getting participation points in class. Just keep your head down and pretend like you give a shit about winning, and voilà. Tons of participation points without having to do anything.”

“I wouldn’t call spending two hours being hunted down by my frat brothers in the woods while we all try to be the last man standing nothing,” he says dryly.

“You make it sound so dramatic.” I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s basically like playing flag football, only at night. And in the woods. And instead of a flag, you have a coin. And it’s every man for himself and not a team thing.”

“So, nothing like flag football.” He huffs out a soft laugh. “Your brain is a fascinating place.”

“You should try living with it.” I pat my pockets again to double-check that I have my phone. “Fascinating is not the word I’d use for it.”

The siren goes off again, louder and even more eerie, and a hush falls over the group.

“You owe me so big for this,” Damon whispers out of the side of his mouth.

“And here I thought you wanted to be a good friend and support me in my time of need,” I whisper back. “Now I find out that you expect more than just my everlasting friendship as a reward?”

He shoots me a flat look. “More like you manipulated me with your puppy-dog eyes and tricked me into signing up for something that’s not even mandatory for me,” he hisses.

“Not my fault you fall for them.” I shoot him a sweet-as-pie smile. “And like I pointed out earlier, you’re going to get mad brownie points for this, so really, you should be thanking me,” I whisper.

The corners of Damon’s lips tick up in a barely there smile. “Maybe,” he whispers back. “But you have to admit that being your friend always seems to land me in these kinds of situations.”

“It does,” I agree, keeping my voice low. “But that’s part of the fun of being my friend. You never know what kind of adventure you’ll have when I’m around.”

“Why do I put up with you again?”

“Because I’m the best. And I’m also your only friend.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Touché.”

“Are you for real pissed I talked you into this?” I ask as a little niggle of anxiety gets lodged in my brain.

Did I ruin everything by convincing him to take part when I knew he didn’t want to?

Am I going to lose my best friend because I’m a big baby and didn’t want to face this stupid challenge alone?

He shoots me one of his trademark smirks. “Nah. You know me. I like to complain, but no one can make me do something I don’t want to do. Not even you and your puppy-dog eyes.”

I breathe out an involuntary sigh of relief.

“And you’re not wrong. This will give me major brownie points and should help when I inevitably screw up later and get on one of the leaders’ bad sides,” he adds.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a strange sense of awareness tugs at my consciousness. Instinctively, I glance to our left, and my eyes land on the group of four freshmen that everyone in the house calls the Keepers Royalty.

I’ve only known them for about six weeks now, since we were all tapped for initiation into the Keepers, and I’m not sure what to make of them.

From what I’ve heard, they’re the first sons, or the first and second sons in the case of the twins, of three of the most powerful and influential members of the Keepers alumni.

Like mine and Damon’s ancestors, theirs were also part of the original group that founded the Keepers, which gives all of us the status of founding legacy, but they’re on an entirely different level than everyone else.

I don’t know if that’s because of their fathers' reputations among the alumni, or if it’s because of them.