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He shrugs and shifts about as if my question makes him uncomfortable. “I like horror movies. Especially with Johnny and the axe in topiary maze.” He leans forward with a comically deranged look in his eyes. “Here comes Johnny with the axe!”

“Close enough,” I wheeze, allowing myself to relax a touch as the humor lifts my burden.

All too soon, however, I know I’m going to have to get back to the task at hand. Shaking my head, I kneel down again and look for any sort of clue that can give me any insight as to what happened. As if I’m some goddamn investigator.

I’m not. I’m the fucking dean of Loftry University. I’m the head of a secret society that’s ballooned into something else all together, something almost unmanageable.

But I can’t let anyone else know that. I can’t show any weakness. Especially not now.

Dragging my phone out of my pocket, I look at all the responses as my lips thin. So far, nearly everyone has checked back in. At least it doesn’t look like we have a missing submissive on top of everything else.

“What do I tell Grigori?”

I pull my gaze away from the screen and tilt my head as I glance at the Russian behemoth. “What’s there to tell him that you don’t already know?”

“I know nothing. That’s why I’m here. Is bitch safe on campus?”

A weary sigh flits through my lips as I stand up. “Is anyone? You know better than most the movers and shakers who slip in and out of The Society. Dangerous men and women take submissives and use them as playthings. It’s how it’s always been done. You think a simple bracelet of ownership will keep anyone truly safe?”

Sergei’s eyes narrow as he leans in close enough for the acrid scent of his body spray to wash over me. “Is that threat? Has anyone made cat call or come hither to our bitch? Point the way. They will bleed.” Without so much as a preamble, he pulls out a knife and pops it open with a deadly schnick.

The absolute last thing I need is a bull-headed Bratva enforcer storming around my campus, interrogating everyone. Shaking my head again, I hold up my hands to show him I’m no threat. And honestly, probably no one is really to blame.

We protect our own. It would be foolhardy and down right idiotic to kill someone so close to our lair. It can’t be anyone here. That is, unless someone on the inside is sending a message?

“Chelsea is safe here,” I finally say as I motion toward the remaining carnage. “At least as safe as we can make her. But we need to stay on guard and not let anything get past us.”

“If bitch not completely safe here, bitch school from home. I make sure she’s safe enough.”

“Please, Sergei. Don’t make any rash decisions. Especially not when it comes to her education and social engagements. Chelsea will despise you both if you keep her away from campus.”

“Let bitch hate. Bitch will live. That’s far more important. She’s top stone in boss’s crown. Any hair is harmed, my hair is on the shaving block.”

“Pretty sure you mean your ass is grass.”

“My ass is rock.” Turning, he sticks his butt out toward me and lightly smacks it. “Will take chisel to break this.” After a moment, his smile droops. “Level with me,” he murmurs, all traces of broken English gone. “What is happening here at Loftry?”

For a moment, I can only look at him as my brain tries and fails to make sense of this fundamental shift in him. It’s as if a different person stands before me. Someone far more lethal. But I must be imagining things.

“I wish to God I knew,” I finally admit. “Maybe you should keep Chelsea home. Just until I can get to the bottom of this. If it’s not Nikolai, I have someone else I can call. Let me know if anything changes on your end, and I’ll keep Grigori updated on mine.”

“Da.”

With a turn of his heel, he walks back toward the main campus, leaving me alone with my thoughts. What the hell is happening indeed? Chase’s death can easily be attributed to an overdose, but where he got the Fentanyl is beyond me. Luke would never allow any sort of narcotics or opioids near the fields and neither would the other coaches.

What’s worse is that he’s an honorary member of The Society. We take intoxication very seriously. To play while inebriated is just asking for trouble.

So many questions and not nearly enough answers for my liking. As much as I want to think this is a coincidence, I can’t. One death on campus is too many. Two deaths in one night is unheard of.

Unease drips down my spine as I pull my phone out once more. Thankfully, all submissives have checked in. Switching to a different app, I glance over the attendance list for the major classes. Though it’s typical to have some absences, I’m more concerned with any names that stick out.

As I skim the second sheet, my heart nearly comes to a stop. Marnie. Marnie... Why do I know that name? Pulling up her information, I try to look for anything that might give me a clue.

Based on her phone number, it looks as if she’s from Florida. Though it’s not uncommon to have students from every state and country attend this prestigious university, itisodd for me to recognize someoneandhave them be from Florida. Thankfully, there’s someone who can settle my mind once and for all.

John Anderson

Do you know a Marnie?