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“Wait for what?” Miller asks.

“For my punishment? Cleaning that disgusting bathroom wasn’t enough. He said something about brotherly love? I don’t know.”

“Brotherly love?” Knox repeats. “He said that?”

I nod.

“Fuck,” Miller mutters, fingers shoving into his thick hair. “Fucking fuck.”

Knox just swallows thickly.

“What?” His reaction makes me nervous. “What does that mean—”

Rat stands in the doorway, a dark grin on his mouth. “Forty-seven. I’ve been looking for you all day.” He looks at Miller and scowls. “You’re not saving him this time, Hansen.”

His wide hand pushes me deeper into the room and I barely catch myself before crashing into the coffee table. When I turn, Rat is holding a fraternity paddle in his hands. The Zeta Sigma letters are burned into the smooth yellow wood, along with dozens of etched names. He spins it around by the handle. For the first time in all of this, I’m truly afraid. Rat grins, baring his teeth. He can smell my fear.

“This is the frat paddle,” he says, holding the long shaft at the end. “It’s only on rare occasions we have to bring it out and assert brotherly love. Usually it’s when a brother, or a pledge, is showing disrespect to the process. Or needs a little reminder of their place in this community.” He points the end at me. “This is one of those times.”

“Because I was late?” I ask, my voice a squeak. “You’re going to spank me?”

I glance at Miller for help. His expression is passive, but I see the tense set of his jaw and shoulders. This could blow everything for both of us. If I have to pull down my pants, I’ll be exposed and he will be, too.

“Son, you’re about to get intimately familiar with the Zeta Sig paddle.” He looks at my waist. “Drop your pants, forty-seven, or I’ll have these two assholes do it for you.”

Terror cascades down my spine, paralyzing me. I force out, “No,” but I know the sound is weak. “Come on, we can talk this out. I’ll do whatever else you want.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Rat slaps the paddle against his palm. The crack a warning of wood against skin. “I’m about to show you what happens when you think you’re above the rest of the goats in the barn.” He tosses it in the air again, but this time Miller’s arm shoots out, grabbing it mid-spin. Rat reacts instantly, lunging for the paddle. Miller shoves a hand into Rat’s chest, holding the paddle out of reach until things escalate to the point that Knox jumps between them, pushing them apart with his long, muscular arms.

“What the fuck, Hansen.” Rat attempts to grab the paddle from around Knox’s enormous frame. “I told you to stay out of this!”

“And I know you’re pissed off and itching to get back at someone after what happened with that chit on campus!”

“That bitch has nothing to do with what’s happening right now! Forty-seven thinks he’s special and I’m here to beat that specialness right out of him.”

Miller holds up the paddle. “If you go after forty-seven like this, you’ll fuck up Zeta Sigma for everyone! This kind of shit always gets out. You’re too pissed.” He looks up at Knox, a dark pleading in his eyes. “We can’t afford any kind of incident.”

It becomes obvious that, in this moment, Knox has become my lifeline. We’re connected, but only through a moment of delicious perversion. Now he’s the person between me and that paddle. Complete exposure. He could take me, or both of us down, in an instant.

He holds out his hand, gesturing for the wooden slab. Miller hesitates but hands it over. Rat makes another grab for it and Knox pushes him back with a hard blow that sends him into the wall. A framed picture crashes to the ground, cracking the glass.

“Dude,” Knox says to him, “you need to back the fuck off.”

“Thank you,” Miller says, sneering over at Rat.

Knox turns and points the end of the paddle at him. “And you need to chill out. He’s right, you’re too wound up in forty-seven for some reason. I know we pick favorites, but this… it’s gone too far.”

Bile rushes to the back of my throat while Miller argues. “It’s not about a fucking goat. It’s about the preserving our charter and not going to jail.”

“Maybe.” For a moment Knox looks thoughtful, like maybe he’ll side with Miller on reason and self-preservation, but when he speaks, he adds, “but Royer is still our president and if he wants forty-seven punished, you have no right to interfere. He isn’t the first goat to receive brotherly love, and he probably won’t be the last.”

Miller allows more worry to slip through his façade than I’ve seen before. I know this isn’t about protecting me—it’s about protecting himself. If I drop my pants, everyone will know I’m not who I claim to be. Dominos will fall and I’ll be lucky to get out of this farmhouse alive. That paddle is the least of my concerns.

“Whatever,” Miller says, moving toward the door. Good call.Run. I can’t even blame him. “This is going to backfire, and I’m not going to be here when it happens.”

“Pussy,” Rat mutters.

“Wait,” Knox says, voice urgent. Miller pauses as Knox turns to Rat. “He’s right about you. You’re too upset and too fucking power hungry. The Warden has to be cool-headed. There’s no way I’m letting you dole out punishment—especially not this one.”