Chapter 9
nine
Strapless dress short. Space buns high. Black boots tall. The whip I carry for my demented ringleader costume? It’s real.
And ready for AIC…wherever he may be.
When I step into the prairie-style Delta House on Wednesday, I’m hit with a wall of noise—shrill squeals, high-pitched laughter, and the warped grind of carnival music looping on repeat.
The entire back wall of patio doors has been flung open, the space leading to a surreal corridor of chaos. A red-striped canopy stretches overhead like a funhouse ceiling, casting blood-colored shadows over the scene.
Beneath it, a cobblestone path snakes forward—too polished to be real, too old-world to belong on campus.
Tents line the concourse on either side of smaller circus pavilions with flaps thrown open to advertise the games within. Lurid signs are painted in streaky neon:
Pop a Virgin. Suck and Blow. Ball Gag Toss.
Each one louder and more deranged than the last.
At the far end, past the crowd, past the pulsing lights and half-dressed girls, looms the main tent. A glowing marquee sign flashes overhead like a seizure warning:
TONIGHT’S FEATURE: RINGMASTER’S REVENGE
Caramel popcorn, cotton candy, and roasting hot dogs pepper the air near the vendor carts lining the crowded path, the aromas casting me back to memories of childhood family vacations at the pier. The ones where my sisters got prizes, but I had to give mine back because it was stolen.
Dressed in my striped outfit, I feel…forgettable. Generic. Another girl in a red-and-black dress, swallowed by the chaos of themed decadence.
All around me, the house pulses with bodies in costume.
Each one louder, stranger, more unhinged than the last. Some came as clowns—sexy, scary, or outright maniacal.
A few Sigma sisters prance around in glittering lingerie and animal ears, painted stripes turning them into slutty lions and tigers.
Two cigarette girls weave through the crowd, handing out vapes and blunts like candy, their fishnets glittering under the yellowed tent lights.
Most of the fraternity brothers who skipped costumes went all out on high-roller tuxedos. Sharp lapels. Velvet accents. That Vegas sleaze. And a handful of girls match their energy as shimmering flappers with feathered headbands, glassy eyes, and squared heels too high for gravel.
It’s like stepping into a fever dream where the circus is made of sins, and no one wants to wake.
I pass the large casino section filled with smoke and the rapid dings of slots, shouts of victory, and cries of defeat. But no Asshole…
One tent’s door pulls back, and I catch a glimpse of a large Twister game.
It looks as if a dozen people or more are naked, skin glistening with sweat, and fucking.
Wherever they can touch, there’s a dick inside something.
Girls bob their heads on them to get the guys to fall over.
Landon Turner works his hips rapidly into the ass of a skinny Iota.
He looks like he’s going to be impossible to take down.
“No! Please!”
The scream cuts through the crowd, stopping me mid-step. I throw up my hands instinctively, stumbling before I collide with one of the booths. Straightening, I take in the scene, and immediately wish I hadn’t.
An oversized glass tank dominates the space, lit from beneath in a sinister neon glow. Inside, perched on a narrow swing, is Hailey. Naked and shivering. Big eyes filled with tears. Below her? A monster-looking black dildo sitting upright in a vat of lube.
A line of Thetas waits to toss a ball at a target to dunk her in, and as I round the back, I spot Henry Cardell, Aiden’s youngest brother. He’s chuckling with a few of the freshmen guys.
“Did she lose a bet?” I ask him as I pass. Casual-like…hoping no one clues in on how bemused I am.
He glances at me as if he shouldn’t talk to me. “No. Truth or Dare—”
A dimpled blond guy cuts in front of him. “She went head-to-head with President Cardell, and she lost. Big time.”
“What happened?”
The kid smirks and elbows Henry, whose cheeks flame red, but he steps up toward the table, grabbing a plastic ball. Henry rolls his eyes. “She landed on Aiden, and he picked truth. She asked who his best fuck was.”
My entire body stiffens, and I hold my breath. I hate that I’m on edge, wanting to know his answer.
“And he said it wasn’t her.”
Carefully, I blow out a sigh of relief. The blond giggles and says, “Then he dared her to let every guy fuck her on the poker table. She refused. Oh, and she started crying. It was hysterical… So, dildo tank it is!”
Thetas die laughing as Henry nails the target, sending her screeching into the thick fluid and getting penetrated by the cock. It’s slippery, so it slides in easily, but then bobs right out as the chair lifts once again.
One of the freshmen shoves me aside. “That’s not enough. She needs another go!” He hits the target again, and down she goes. Covering her tits with her arms. Squealing for them to please stop. Cheeks stained with chagrin…
It’s a glorious sight.
“Too bad it’s lined up with her cunt and not her ass,” one of the brothers says as I wander toward another tent.
Through the open flaps, I get a glimpse of Talon looking wrecked.
He sways as he leans in to take a card in a game of Suck and Blow, but can’t keep it pressed on his mouth.
After a failed attempt, he gives up and grabs the Iota by the back of the head, smashing their lips together in a sloppy, wet kiss.
It’s gross enough that I slip out in a hurry.
Talon doesn’t care enough about me to ask where I am. He only needs my future—and the petty thrill of claiming something Aiden once wanted.
I spy the Truth or Dare room, where two circles of people surround a bottle.
There’s a point board hanging from the ceiling, explaining the rules and the way to earn coins.
If you spin and it lands, the person chooses truth or dare.
The dare scales up from kissing to fingering, blowjobs, full sex, anal, and more. Including group acts or even wilder.
Lounging atop a pile of silk pillows like some corrupted prince, Aiden Cardell takes a long drag off a blunt—fingers elegant, jaw relaxed.
A slow cloud of smoke seeps from his parted lips, curling around his face like a veil of vice.
One leg drapes casually over the other, his posture lazy but deliberate.
Leaning back on an elbow, he watches the chaos unfold like it’s a private show made just for him.
His tuxedo fits like a salacious threat.
Perfect. Crisp. Black as murder. His hair?
Styled like he stepped off a magazine cover—effortless, arrogant.
Muscles tight beneath the suit, veins visible in his hands from how he grips the cigar.
His eyes are glassy, red-rimmed, but still as blue as a clear sky on a winter’s day.
But his smile?
Cold.
Villainous.
There.
For once.
He spots me instantly. Instead of shirking back, he raises his chin as if he expected me.
Zoe Griffin sits across from him, along with a few Betas and Deltas I recognize. The rest are Sigma sisters. And Mutton.
“Is there room here?” I ask, pointing to an empty pillow.
The guy next to me scans my legs, then tits, and smiles. “Yep. Pop a squat. Join us.”
Zoe grants me a solid head nod, then whatever conversation the group was having resumes. I get comfortable on a cushion, setting my whip down next to me.
The bottle spins for a few rounds while people laugh and socialize with drinks and drugs.
Nothing gets too wild. The guy next to me lands on one of his brothers across from him, and he tells him to suck him off in a dare.
But it’s like they had already been fucking on the side and were coming out as a couple. So, it feels like cheating for points…
Good strategy, though.
I’m surrounded by enemies.
Including the one with blue eyes who won’t quit staring at me. It’s not friendly. No. Aiden’s looking at me as if he’s about to lay a trap.
Except he’s about to step into mine.
By the time the bottle lands on me, I’m half asleep but jerk to attention, only to look up and see Asshole smirking in my direction. His first spin, and it lands on me? Hmm…
“Truth…or dare?” he asks, taking a sip of something in a doubles glass.
Licking my bottom lip, I steady my voice. “Truth.”
“I’m disappointed. A girl like you? I thought you would’ve chosen a dare.”
I don’t reply. He’s baiting me. But I’m too smart for that.
“Okay, fine.” He clears his throat, sets his drink aside, and sits, crisscrossing his legs. His glare meets me over the low faux flame lights surrounding us.
My pulse throbs hard in my neck until I almost can’t breathe. He draws out the moment for so long, I fear the worst. But his question is even more sinister than I could’ve imagined.
“What did you do with your baby?”
Pain sears across my temples.
The circle gasps. A few students glance at each other, not knowing where to look. Someone swats Aiden’s arm, like that could undo the question. Even the next game over falls silent.
Hold it together, Ashlyn. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Don’t give him what he wants.
Smile. Slowly. Like nothing touched you. Like your lips aren’t trembling with rot.
“That’s your question?” My voice slices clean through the air. “I thought you would’ve chosen something wiser.”
Swallowing, I try not to envision what I almost say. Actively shove the images from my mind.
A shovel.
The weight of dirt.
Grass under my knees.
My lungs ripped open from screaming into the cold silence.
My heart scraped out of my chest, bleeding onto the ground.
No. No. No.
Push that shit down.
With a shrug, I lift my chin and announce, “I buried him. Your turn.”
Everyone around the circle glances at each other, but they hold in a collective breath. The air intensifies between Asshole and me.
He snorts a laugh as if what I’ve told him brought him joy. Self-satisfied and smug, he tilts his head and says, “Dare.”