Page 14

Still, my mood’s not totally wrecked. I glance at my fingers, catching a faint trace of Sienna’s scent. A grin spreads across my face. Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I lick them clean. Sweet. Just like I thought she’d be.

Maybe my luck’s finally turning around.

I check my phone. 4:30. I’ve got a call with Mr. Coleman at five, so no time to screw around.

I think about going back into the library, but nah. Tormenting Sienna can wait.

I head to the parking lot, finding my car exactly where I left it. I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. I crank up the radio to some old rock song that blares through the speakers as I pull out of the lot.

The drive home is quick. As I park and head inside, I’m already thinking about tonight. The Brotherhood, huh? Whatever it is, it better be good.

The McLaren growls under me as I take the last turn toward the square, the streetlights casting slick patterns on the hood.

Midnight feels like the start of a bad movie, but here I am, driving out for some cryptic “Brotherhood” bullshit.

Caleb’s smug face floats to mind. This better not be some kind of prank.

The dashboard clock flips to 11:55, and my thoughts slide back to earlier.

“Your father’s been transferred.”

Mr. Coleman had sounded calm, like he wasn’t delivering a bombshell. “Transferred? Why the fuck?”

“Incident in the holding cells,” he’d said, pausing like he was picking his words carefully. “Some of the other inmates recognized him.”

Recognized him. What the hell did that mean?

“Jesus Christ,” I’d muttered, pacing the length of the penthouse. “You’re telling me they can’t even keep him safe for a goddamn week?”

“It’s complicated,” Coleman had said, his lawyer tone infuriatingly neutral. “We’re working on bail, but it’s tricky given the circumstances.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I’d snapped, slamming my hand on the counter.

That call had been the final straw. This thing that Caleb invited me to is a perfect distraction. Just what I need.

I park near the square, the McLaren’s engine cutting off with a soft growl. Ahead, a small group of people huddle near the fountain.

I glance at the clock again. 11:57. Five minutes to midnight. Great.

Sliding out of the car, I lock it with a beep and stroll toward the fountain. The cold air bites at my skin, but I don’t mind. It keeps me sharp.

A couple of the guys glance my way, but no one speaks. Are they here for the Brotherhood too?

I’m still trying to figure it out when something drops over my head.

“What the fuck?” I yell, twisting, but hands grab me—strong ones.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Seriously?” I bark, struggling as they shove me forward. “This team does fucking hazing? Real original, guys.”

No one answers. Instead, I’m dragged toward a car, the scent of leather and cigarette smoke hitting me as a trunk pops open.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” I mutter, kicking as they lift me.

The trunk closes with a slam, and I’m plunged into darkness.

Great. Just great.

“Hey,” a voice says from beside me. “You good?”

I freeze, then shift. My shoulder bumps someone.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask.

“Logan,” he says. “You?”

“Eli.”

“Nice to meet you, I guess,” Logan says dryly.

There’s a chuckle from my other side. “Finn,” another voice says. “Looks like we’re all in this shit together.”

The car starts moving, the vibrations jarring as we bump along what I assume is a dirt road.

“So,” Logan says after a minute. “Anyone know what the hell’s going on?”

“No clue,” Finn replies. “Caleb just said to show up.”

“Same,” I add. “He didn’t mention the whole sack-over-the-head part.”

“Yeah, real classy,” Logan says.

We sit in silence for a while, the hum of the engine filling the space.

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Finn asks eventually.

“No idea,” I say. “But if they try to make us eat raw eggs or some shit, I’m out.”

Logan snorts. “You think they’d let you leave?”

I don’t answer, because honestly, I’m not sure.

The car finally stops, and the trunk pops open. Hands grab me again, pulling me out. I stumble but manage to stay upright as I’m dragged forward.

“Welcome,” a deep voice says, loud enough to carry.

The sack is yanked off my head, and I blink against the sudden light. We’re in some kind of clearing, torches stuck in the ground casting flickering shadows. Two figures stand in front of us, both wearing masks—one red, the other black.

“This some kind of Eyes Wide Shut shit?” I mutter under my breath.

“Silence,” the guy in the black mask commands.

I roll my eyes but shut up.

“You’ve been chosen,” Red Mask says, his voice booming. “Invited to join the Reapers.”

“And what exactly is it?” Logan asks.

Black Mask tilts his head, like he’s deciding whether to answer. “It’s a legacy,” he says finally. “A tradition that goes back decades. The Reapers handle shit on their own terms. The men who run the city.”

“Right,” I say. “And who the hell are these men?”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he says, “Not everyone is worthy to be part of this organization. Tonight, you’ll prove whether you are.”

Finn raises a hand, smirking. “Uh, and what happens if we’re not?”

“Then you’re out,” Red Mask says simply.

“Out of what, though?” I press.

“You’ll find out,” Red Mask says.

I glance at Logan, who just shrugs. Finn looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Fine,” I say. “What do we have to do?”

Red Mask gestures to a table behind him, where a stack of envelopes sits.

“Take one,” he says. “Inside, you’ll find your instructions.”

I hesitate, but curiosity wins. Walking forward, I grab an envelope and step back. Logan and Finn do the same.

“Well?” Red Mask says. “Open it.”

I tear mine open, pulling out a single piece of paper.

My stomach sinks as I read the words.

This night just keeps getting better.

I unfold the paper and skim the words. It’s short, but it’s enough to make me groan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, glancing at Logan and Finn. “What’s yours say?”

Logan holds his paper up, squinting. “Steal the trophy from the glass case in the admin building.”

Finn lets out a low whistle. “Damn. They’re not messing around.”

“What about you?” I ask, nodding toward his paper.

“Same deal,” Finn says. “But they want me to snag the old championship banner from the gym.”

I look down at mine again. “They want me to steal the dean’s fucking gavel.”

Logan snorts. “Dude, how are you gonna get into his office? That place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

“I don’t know,” I snap. “But I guess I better figure it out.”

Red Mask clears his throat, cutting through our talking.

“You have three hours to bring back your item,” he says, his voice sharp and no-nonsense. “Failure means you’re out. Permanently.”

Black Mask steps forward, arms crossed. “This is amateur shit, so no excuses. This is just the first test. And if you get caught, that’s on you. The Reapers won’t bail you out.”

“Great pep talk,” I mutter under my breath.

The masked men ignore me, waving us toward the cars parked nearby. Logan and Finn shuffle after them, and I follow, already plotting how I’m supposed to pull this off.

The admin building is dark when I park the McLaren across the street. It’s close to two in the morning, and campus security is probably doing their usual half-assed patrol.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I mutter, grabbing the small toolkit I keep in the glove compartment.

I slip across the street, staying in the shadows until I’m at the side entrance. Picking the lock takes longer than I’d like, my hands fumbling in the cold, but it finally clicks open.

“Easiest part’s done,” I whisper, pushing the door open.

The hallways are silent as I make my way toward the dean’s office. Every creak of the floorboards sets my nerves on edge, but I keep moving. When I reach the door, I crouch down, pulling out the picks again.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter, sweating as the lock fights me.

After what feels like forever, it gives, and I slip inside. The gavel sits on a polished wooden stand, catching the faint light from the window.

“Gotcha,” I say, grabbing it and stuffing it into my bag.

I’m out the door and halfway back to the car when a flashlight beam sweeps past me.

“Shit,” I hiss, ducking behind a bush as a security guard mutters something into his radio.

I hold my breath, waiting until he moves on, then bolt for the car. The engine roars to life, and I peel out of there, my heart racing.

One down.

When we meet up at the clearing the next night, Logan’s got the trophy tucked under his arm, and Finn’s dragging the old, faded banner behind him.

“Nice work,” I say, holding up the gavel.

“Yeah, you too,” Finn says, grinning. “Bet they didn’t expect us all to pull it off.”

Red Mask and Black Mask are waiting, their silhouettes stark against the torchlight.

“You’ve proven yourselves resourceful,” Red Mask says, his voice tinged with approval.

“Not bad,” Black Mask adds. “But the night’s not over yet.”

Logan groans. “What now?”

Black Mask smirks. “Your next task is... less subtle.”

Red Mask steps forward, tossing a spray can to each of us.

“We want you to leave a message,” he says. “Something the whole campus will see tomorrow morning.”

Finn flips the can in his hand. “You mean vandalize something?”

“Exactly,” Red Mask says. “And make it memorable.”

Logan shakes his head. “Man, you guys really don’t give a shit about the law, huh?”

“This isn’t for the faint of heart,” Red Mask snaps. “If you’re too scared, walk away now.”

None of us move.

“Good,” Red Mask says, his tone icy. “You have until dawn.”

The campus mascot is an oversized bronze statue of a hawk, perched proudly outside the gym. Finn’s the one who suggests it, and honestly, it’s not a bad idea.

“Alright,” I say, shaking the spray can. “Let’s do this fast.”

Logan takes the first shot, spraying a bright red “brOTHERHOOD” across the hawk’s chest. Finn adds a crude outline of a mask, and I finish it off with a message across the base: “The strong survive.”

“That’s subtle,” Finn says, snickering.

“Yeah, well, it gets the point across,” I say, stepping back to admire our handiwork.

The statue’s a mess, paint dripping everywhere. Perfect.

“Let’s get out of here before someone sees us,” Logan says, already moving toward his car.

Back at the clearing, Red Mask and Black Mask are waiting again.

“You’ve proven you can take risks,” Red Mask says, his voice steady.

“And you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty,” Black Mask adds.

Finn crosses his arms. “So, are we in or what?”

“Not yet,” Red Mask says, a sly smile in his tone.

“Of course not,” Logan mutters. “What now?”

Black Mask steps forward, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“For your final task, you must each fuck a virgin.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Finn laughs.

“You’re shitting me,” he says.

“We’re not,” Red Mask says firmly. “You have 48 hours. Bring proof.”

I arch a brow. “Proof? What the hell does that mean?”

Black Mask smirks. “We’ll know if you’re lying.”

Logan throws up his hands. “Evidence? This is insane.”

“No,” I say, a slow grin spreading across my face. “This is perfect.”

Finn gives me a curious look. “Why’s that?”

I shove my hands in my pockets, still grinning.

“Because I know exactly who I’m going after.”