Page 2

TWO

SILAS

S able Wilson.

The only girl who has ever effectively brought me to my knees, literally, by kicking me in the balls multiple times as children.

The same girl with eyes that could look so maddeningly innocent in one second and coldly lethal in the next. I had forgotten the way her rounded nose caught the light just so, brightening her whole face as if she hadn’t caused endless torment growing up.

We weren’t just rivals; we were raised to be. Our parents made sure of that. Every one of my accomplishments was mirrored by Sable, and vice versa. If I joined karate, she’d be right there in the next class, learning the same kicks and punches. If she joined the chess club, suddenly I was moving pawns and studying gambits. Even in sports, when it seemed like gender might provide some separation, it didn’t. There were no “boys versus girls” in our world—just Morgan versus Wilson. The competition was ruthless and unrelenting, our parents pushing us as if every achievement was some kind of victory over the other family.

And now, despite both of us desperately trying to escape that rivalry, I’m stuck being her keeper. It’s just like our parents—of course it is. To appease them, I’m forced to watch over her, as if she needs it, as if I wanted this. I don’t want her here anymore than she wants to be here. She had a way out—she took it. College, far away from this place, while I stayed closer to home. It’s what we both wanted, needed even. Space. Freedom.

But here she is, at Ashen Grove.

Who flunks out in their sophomore year when they held a perfect 4.0 GPA through high school? Sable had always been the golden child. Untouchable. Always perfect in everything she touched. Her sudden hospitalization and months of in-patient therapy due to her drug-induced psychosis seemed… off. I’ve been looking into the events of that night and have found nothing. But I will keep looking. Or rather, have Kai keep looking.

According to her mother, that little tidbit of humiliation has to be kept hidden.

The lacrosse field is quiet as I peel off my T-shirt and kick off my sneakers before moving to the bench to switch into my cleats. A pit in my stomach forms as my socks dampen under the grass. The same grass that I haven’t touched since last season.

Not since the game that barred me from my dream.

My torn rotator cuff ended with any shot I had at the professional level. The dream I’d been working for, killed in a single moment. Even the best trainers in the country couldn’t save it. No recruiter from the NLL would look twice at me now. Sure, I could maybe scrape by on a warm-up squad or a practice team, but let’s be real—that was never good enough for me.

Never.

I didn’t want to be a backup plan.

I wanted to be the plan.

The star.

But here I am. “Good thing you were majoring in business administration,” my advisors had said this summer, their voices a nauseating mix of pity and pragmatism. As if I had planned for this. As if anyone really has a plan for the moment their dream dies. Now I’m stuck, trying to figure out how to avoid telling my parents that not only did I lose my scholarship, but I’ve lost the thing I was most proud of. My future.

My escape from their future for me.

“You really didn’t have to help me practice,” Dayton says, his voice casual as he drops a large sports bag at my feet. The thud of it hitting the ground pulls me from my thoughts.

“I could’ve asked one of the guys to do conditioning with me,” he adds, his lips curving into that cocky grin he always has when he thinks he’s being charitable.

“Eh, I missed the field.” I shrug, pretending it’s not a big deal. It’s not a lie—this is where I feel at home.

The field.

The grind.

The adrenaline.

It’s the one place where the world makes sense, where there are no distractions, no complicated feelings—just movement, strength, and dominance. That’s how I like it.

Dayton has been my closest friend since middle school, and the guy hasn’t changed much. He’s a walking stereotype: good looks, zero shame, and a string of girls who throw themselves at him every week. Half the time, he doesn’t even bother to remember their names. Just pass them off to the rest of the guys once he’s done, like they’re leftovers.

He pulls out a lacrosse stick and a ball from his bag, tossing the ball over to me. I catch it mid-air but place it beside me on the bench, not really in the mood yet. Dayton, of course, doesn’t care. He’s already started lunging across the grass, warming up like we’re gearing up for the game of our lives.

“Did Ashley give you all of Sable’s info?” Dayton asks, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Yeah, she did.” I nod, my jaw tightening slightly at the thought of Sable. Dayton had worked his student council charm and got his latest fucktoy, Ashley, to snag Sable’s class schedule and keys to her dorm for me. I could’ve just let her go through the normal admission process, let her figure out her dorm, have a quiet orientation like everyone else. But where’s the fun in that? The look on her face when I intercepted her at her car, that shock, that flicker of anger beneath her eyes—it was worth every minute of planning.

Seeing her off-balance, rattled, and unsure?

It sent a thrilling tilt to my cock.

“So... is she single?” Dayton’s eyebrows shoot up, wiggling in that lecherous way he does when he smells fresh prey.

I roll my eyes, rising from the bench and grabbing my stick. “Chasing drill starts now, before I kick your ass.”

Dayton chuckles as he jumps up, and down, loosening his joints. “Oh, you can’t be serious about her being off-limits. Come on, man, is she still hot? I need fresh meat.”

“Fuck you, Dayton.”

We set up the cones in silence, but my head isn’t in it. My body moves on autopilot, but my mind is tangled in the memory of Sable’s scorn, her sharp words cutting deeper than I’d like to admit. It’s been days since she looked at me like I was nothing more than an annoying bug to squash. And yet, the way her lips had curled when she threatened me, the dark glint in her eyes—it was enough to stir something twisted inside me. She’s always been a brat, but now? Now she’s something else, something darker. More dangerous. The way she has changed only makes me want to push her harder, to see just how far she can go before she snaps.

“Keep up, slacker!” Dayton calls out, laughing as he sprints ahead of me, dodging the cones.

I grit my teeth, pushing my legs harder, the burn familiar but still unbearable. The ache in my shoulder starts to throb, reminding me of my limits, but I push through it. My body may be breaking down, but I’ll be damned if I let Dayton think I’m weak. I close the gap between us, the sound of his labored breathing pulling me forward.

I see him glance back as I close the gap, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t think you had it in you,” he pants out.

“Thought you knew better than to underestimate me,” I reply, pushing past him just as we reach the final cone.

We come to a stop, both of us breathing heavily, hands on our knees. Dayton claps me on the back, a wide grin splitting his face. “Damn, Si.”

We walk back to the bench, and Dayton collapses onto the grass, sprawling out and stares up at the sky.

“You ever wonder what it would’ve been like if you had just told her how you felt back then? Instead of just leaving?”

I sigh, leaning back against the bench. “Not really. We were barely even friends.”

Dayton props himself up on his elbows, looking at me skeptically. “Seriously? Is that the lie you’re telling yourself, Si?”

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “She was just a family friend. Someone my parents forced me to hang out with during events. Before I met your dumbass.” I look away, unable to meet his gaze. He’s right, of course, I am lying. I’d been telling myself that it was just a physical thing, that I didn’t care. But the truth is, I did care. I cared too much, and that scared the hell out of me.

“But you still care about her? Why else would you make me fuck Ashley after I cut her off?”

I roll my eyes, lying through my teeth. “No dude. Our moms were nagging me. Plus, you’d fuck Ashley with or without my ask.”

“She does give the sloppiest head.” He throws his head back as if she is actually sucking his cock, his hand bouncing off of his dick, his tongue running along the bottom of his lip.

I’m over talking about Dayton getting head and him trying to get in mine about Sable.

“Let’s finish these drills.”

We throw ourselves back into it, but my focus is already shot. The memory of that night with Sable claws at my thoughts, dragging me back. I was drunk, too drunk to remember the details, but I’ll never forget the way she looked at me after. The tears streaming down her face as she bolted from the room, while I stayed behind, too wasted to follow. An hour later, I had my tongue down some random chick’s throat—Mindy, I think her name was—and from that moment on, Sable was done with me. She didn’t need to say it. Her actions were clear.

After that, Sable started getting other rides to school, completely avoiding me. I don’t understand. She was the one who practically begged me to screw her.

Fuck it.

I’m over her and the petty fucking mind games we used to play as kids.

She isn’t worth it.

Never was.

We wrap up the practice; the sun is hanging just past the Cromwell Hall. Sable’s dorm. By now, I am sure she probably met her roommate, Heather. I had Kai specifically place her with Sable. She isn’t someone that we particularly are acquainted with. She’s a timid little thing who spends most of her time writing. The less likely Sable is to run in our circles, the better.

Ashen Grove can be a hunting ground when other guys smell fresh meat. She will need us to steer clear of most of these fucking asswipes. Her schedule already has one of the four of us in each of her classes to keep an eye on her. And we already warned the rest of the frat of her.

We head back to The Manor that is nestled on the outskirts of campus. Dayton turns to me. “So, what’s the deal with your shoulder, man? Are you really out for the season?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah.”

Doesn’t matter that I brought this damn school to championships for the past two years. They pulled my scholarship the moment they could.

“Damn, bro. It’s not going to be the same with you this year. Did you ask your dad for help with your tuition yet?”

“I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about me.”

Between Levi’s dad being the CFO of a tech company, and Dayton’s paternal grandfather being a former senator, their family is some of the richest in the state.

Asking them to write a check would be simpler than what I’m currently doing to pay it, since I refuse to go back to my father. His mother would write it before Dayton even finished his sentence. His stepdad would probably hesitate, but I could always get Levi to be convincing.

They understood that lacrosse was my identity and losing my scholarship meant losing my safety net. But the money really means little when I consider the fact that my plan for the next two years went out the window all because of one miscalled play from the coach.

Dayton heads up the brick steps and unlocks the door before turning toward me. His face is flushed, and a trickle of sweat runs off of his disheveled blonde hair. “You don’t have to keep doing the fight nights. It isn’t worth?—”

I hold up a hand. “Stop, Day. I’m fine. I gotta go train with Jeremy.” I roll my shoulders softly, not allowing him to see the wince. “Catch you later.”

He mutters something and nods before the door closes behind him. I look up at the foreboding gothic manor. We just recently moved into it, still doesn’t feel quite like home.

This house is just as old as Ashen Grove University.

They say that it used to be used as the headmaster’s quarters when this was a boarding school, but after it was transitioned to a college about a hundred years ago, they allowed this and some of the other houses on the street to be fraternity houses.

I pop the trunk of my Mazda and grab my gym bag before heading down the street past the other houses. The fall air is cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and freshly cut grass. I walk briskly, eager to reach the club that was just past the catacombs in an old warehouse. Most of AGU is walkable, at least if you like to clear your head. Otherwise I take my bike most places.

Dayton, Kai, Levi, and I are officers of Delta Sigma Nu. Represented by a scorpion crest above the door. Our former members have been known for their ability to manipulate situations to make them most advantageous for them.

Across from us is Omega Chi Kappa. They have a multi-headed hydra as their mascot. They are as ruthless as they come. Omega Chi Kappa is infamous on campus for their wild parties, which often devolve into chaotic orgies in their living room. They are notorious for their aggressive and unapologetic behavior, treating women as mere conquests to be used and discarded.

Down the street is Psi Theta Omega. These guys are the brainiacs, almost all of them on pre-law or pre-med tracks. It’s rare to see them without their noses buried in textbooks or their hands free of highlighters. They are a sober, studious group, shunning the typical fraternity lifestyle for one of academic rigor and professional ambition. Sure, their dedication to their studies is admirable, but let’s be honest—their social lives are practically non-existent, making them a rather dull and insular bunch.

Only officers in the fraternities may stay in the main house. Other members are required to live in dorm housing. We were just lucky enough to be initiated as officers at the end of last semester. Most have to wait until their senior year.

The fraternities are more so a formality; we have pledges and whatnot. But if you are not a legacy, you won’t be accepted.

Just as I reach the vine-covered stone arch that leads toward the main street, a familiar presence tingles at the back of my neck. I don’t need to look to know who it is.

“You know, you’re the worst liar,” Kai says, causing me to turn and face him. His dark brown hair hangs in front of his eyes in a slicked fashion, and he’s dressed in his usual slacks and button-up shirt, his bike helmet in one hand. It looks like he just got done with a ride and parked the bike in a shared garage that all the fraternities use on the street.

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“But you lied to Dayton. Your shoulder is much worse off than you’re letting him know,” he replies, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. I shake my head and turn back around, continuing down the sidewalk. Kai falls into step beside me.“You’ll break his heart, you know,”

I clench my jaw, eyes forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. It doesn’t stop him, of course. Kai lives for this shit—poking, prodding, seeing how far he can push before he crosses a line. “Fuck off, Kai.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re going to the fight club again ? Do you want to re-injure your barely functional shoulder?”

“It’s physical therapy.” My strides grow wider in an attempt to outpace him.

We both stop at the corner of the intersection. He snorts, reaching out to snatch the bag from my shoulder. He unzips the bag and pulls out hand wraps and my mouth guard. His lip tightening as he waves the equipment up in the air. “Physical therapy isn’t preparing for a fight. C’mon dude. You can just?—”

“Get off my ass.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re giving up so?—”

“Did you do what I told you to do?” I snap, shoving him, but not before grabbing my gear back.

Kai, of course, is unfazed. He’s always been like that—smooth, calculated, letting everything roll off him like water off a duck’s back. He just nods, brushing off the shove as if it was nothing more than a playful push. “Yeah, man. One camera, with a mic, was installed in her dorm room earlier today. As requested.” He speaks so nonchalantly, like we’re discussing the weather and not crossing major lines of privacy.

I mash the walk button at the crosswalk, watching for the signal, needing this conversation to end before I do something stupid. My patience is razor-thin right now. “Thanks,” I mutter.

Kai doesn’t move, though. He stands beside me, pulling out his phone and casually tapping through it before shoving the screen in my face. “So, what are you going to do about her?” he asks, flashing the security feed from the camera he installed in Sable’s room. The live image of her sitting on her bed, oblivious to everything, makes my stomach clench.

“Nothing. Not until she gives me a reason. Just keep an eye on her,” I grit out, trying to ignore the heat building behind my eyes. The less I think about Sable, the better.

But Kai, the sadistic prick, isn’t done. He chuckles softly, his dark eyes gleaming as he locks his phone and shoves it back into his pocket. “I’ll take care of your girl for you. Don’t worry,” he says, his voice low and suggestive, the smirk on his lips stretching into something far more infuriating.

My blood turns to fire. My vision narrows, a red haze creeping in at the edges. Without thinking, I lunge forward, my fists clenched, every muscle in my body straining to control the rage boiling inside me. I could break him. I want to break him.

“I will fucking kill you, Malachi Reynolds.”

For a split second, I see it—fear. It flickers across Kai’s face, his dark eyes widening slightly before he quickly masks it with that same cocky grin. He shrugs, trying to play it off, but the hesitation was there. I saw it, and he knows it.

But instead of backing down, Kai takes a few lazy steps backward, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “If you keep talking to me like that, I might get hard, baby,” he teases, his voice dripping with condescension, and I can feel my grip on my restraint slipping further.

“Go fuck Levi.”

He turns completely away and throws his pointer finger in the air. “Already on it!”

I stand there for a moment, seething, the urge to chase after him almost overwhelming. But I don’t. I grit my teeth, turning sharply on my heel and forcing my legs to carry me in the opposite direction.

I need to cool down. Need to get my head straight. But no matter how hard I try, the image of Kai’s smug face and that fucking video feed of Sable linger in my mind like a slow-burning fire.