Page 24

TWENTY-FOUR

SILAS

I ’ve seen every facet of Sable’s personality, her emotions, her body.

And when she walked into The Manor earlier, her irritation rolling off her in waves, I knew exactly what she needed. The gym. It always works.

The gym is already packed when we arrive. We move past the regular workout equipment and into the private room in the back that we use solely for training for Friday night fights. The university knows that the frats, and even outsiders, come in and fight at the warehouse on the outskirts.

Hell, I think even some alumni pay for the security and the recent renovations of the building. It’s an open secret to most here.

I follow closely behind her, watching the way her black leggings hug her every curve, especially her ass, the seam accentuating every move. The guys in the gym—some DSN brothers, some regulars—can’t help but look. I catch the hungry stares as they throw her away, and my fists clench involuntarily. It takes every ounce of self-control to resist the urge to grab her by the ponytail and drag her into the locker room, where no one else can see what’s mine.

“Yo, Silas!” Jeremy calls out, his eyes flicking from me to Sable, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “Didn’t know you were bringing company.”

He jumps down from the ring and struts toward us like the cocky bastard he is. Sable, who had been walking ahead, has to stop abruptly to avoid crashing into him. Her tits, barely contained by the sports bra, bounce slightly with the movement, and Jeremy’s eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“Fuck. You. Jeremy,” I snap, but there’s no real heat in my voice. I turn to Sable, who is eyeing him warily. She extends a hand toward him.

“Hi, I’m Sable,” she says smoothly. Jeremy, the idiot, takes her hand, all too eager.

“I’m Jeremy Lancaster.”

“Lancaster?” she asks hesitantly.

“Yeah. Toby was my cousin.” His voice falters for a moment, but he quickly changes the subject, clearly trying to shake off any mention of Toby’s death. “Anyway, what are we doing today, Si?”

“Getting some frustrations out,” I reply, my gaze lingering on Sable as I speak. “You want to start with the punching bag?”

She smirks, then places her bag on the bench. She drops her gym bag on the bench, and I sit beside her, reaching for the supplies to wrap her wrists. As she holds out her hands, I take them, settling them in my lap as I prep the tape.

“Wrap me?” she asks, her voice soft but teasing. She knows what she’s doing, sitting that close, her fingers brushing against my thigh. My cock twitches in response, already semi-hard in my gym shorts.

“Yeah,” I mutter, focusing on her left hand first. The feeling of her soft skin against my calloused fingers sends another wave to my cock, but I keep my cool, wrapping her hand with precise, practiced motions.

“How long have you been fighting at the club?” she asks, her eyes lingering on the noticeable bulge in my shorts a little longer than she should.

“I’ve done a few fights throughout the years. Only did this many this school year because of my accident.”

“Your accident?” She looks at me confused, her eyes filled with concern.

I nudge my shoulder, signaling to my rotator cuff. “Destroyed my shoulder last spring during the lacrosse championships.”

Her expression softens, and I almost hate how much I crave that look from her. “Lacrosse? Why didn’t my mom tell me?”

I shrug. “Probably because you were dealing with your own shit.”

She falls silent, knowing I’m right. Both of our lives hit rock bottom at the same time.

“So you lost your scholarship?” she finally asks. And I nod. “You didn’t need it, anyway, though. Your dad probably just paid for it, no biggie.”

“Yeah, but you know my dad. I liked not being tied to his money for once.”

She nods, and her voice softens. “Why do you think I chose Lakeview?” Her words hang in the air, unfinished.

“To get as far away from me as possible?” I quip with a large grin as I finish up the last bit of wrap.

She scoffs. “Isn’t the universe just cruel, then? Seems like it always pushes me back to you.”

We sit in a comfortable silence after that as I finish. When I’m done, she flexes her fingers, testing the tightness of the wraps, then meets my gaze. For a moment, I sense a flicker of her softness, the one she would let me see on rare occasions growing up.

As much as we always thought of each other as rivals, we were just blinded by competition and arrogance. Now, even as we stand as enemies, I want nothing more than for her to beat me at this game.

“All set?”

“Absolutely.”

We stand, and I guide her toward the punching bag. Jeremy watches with a smirk, but I dismiss him with a sharp glare. He knows better than to get between me and Sable right now. I position her in front of the bag, adjusting her stance slightly.

When we were teens, we were both placed in classes, due to her insistence of wanting to learn some type of self-defense. As much as her mother didn’t think of it as a feminine thing to do, she allowed it, as long as I was enrolled as well. She and I would spend hours sparring in my father’s gym. I know exactly how powerful she is.

I watch her, mesmerized by the way her muscles tense and release with every punch. She’s strong, powerful—someone who doesn’t need protection, but fuck if I don’t want to protect her, anyway.

Jeremy wraps my hands around me as Sable continues to warm up, and then I dismiss him. “Think you can take me?” I ask teasingly, as we both step into the ring.

She gives me that familiar, confident smile that always makes my heart race.

God damn.

It’s like no matter how hard I try to push my feelings for her down into a box, they spring right back up.

“Just take your stance,” she replies, slapping her gloves together. Beads of sweat roll down her taut, flat stomach, glistening under the gym’s harsh lights. She’s a vision, more than I can take in without losing focus.

We circle each other, our eyes locked. I can’t help but notice the way her muscles flex under her smooth skin. She’s always been beautiful, but now, with the sheen of sweat highlighting her toned body, she’s downright irresistible.

“You remember the basics?” I ask, throwing a light jab to test her reflexes. She dodges it effortlessly, her smirk widening as she counters with a swift punch of her own. I barely block it.

“Of course. Who says I don’t practice?”

“Little fucking devil.”

We exchange a few more blows. Her punches are strong and precise and she is able to hold her own with me despite the obvious weight and size difference.

“Nice one,” I grunt, as she lands a solid hit on my good shoulder. “But you’re still too stiff. You’re anticipating my next move in all of yours. Loosen up.”

I glance over my shoulder at Jeremy, who’s yelling at some poor pledge across the gym. “Aye, Jer! Get me the blindfold!” I shout.

Jeremy comes into the ring with a black blindfold, he looks at me and I give him a nod of approval. He moves behind Sable. “May I?” he asks before he plays the blindfold over her eyes.

“What’s this for?” she asks in between heavy breaths.

“Sensory deprivation training. It helps fighters rely on senses other than sight.”

Once the blindfold is secure, I wave my glove in front of her face, grinning when she doesn’t react. Her scent fills my senses—sweat mixed with that sweet, intoxicating fragrance she always wears. I have to force myself to stay focused.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

“Not even a little.”

I chuckle softly, guiding her into position with my gloves on either side of her arms. “Alright, listen to me?—”

Before I can finish, a quick jab lands squarely on my cheek. It’s light but precise, enough to sting and catch me off guard.

“What the fuck,” I mutter, stepping back, startled by the hit.

She giggles—a soft, devious sound that only makes my blood boil. “Oopsie,” she says, biting her bottom lip, her playful expression more enticing than it has any right to be. My gaze drops to her lips, and I have to fight the urge to take that lip between my teeth and make her feel the same pain, the same heat she’s igniting in me. The thought of tasting her blood and hearing her moan my name with raw desperation sends a shock down to my already rock hard cock.

I take a step back, putting some distance between us before I lose control.

Her body tenses as she stands there, blindfolded and vulnerable, her head turning slightly as my feet shuffle against the mat. She’s relying on her hearing now, her sense of touch, her awareness of the air shifting around her.

“Use your hearing, feel the vibrations in the air.”

I throw a light punch, and she dodges it, gasping as she narrowly avoids the hit. Her movements start to become more fluid, her body adjusting to the lack of sight. I watch as she begins to relax, her other senses sharpening. She’s reacting instinctively now, her body in tune with mine.

After a few minutes, she stops and removes the blindfold. She’s flushed, her chest falling rapidly, but her eyes are dark. “Your turn,” she says, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she calls Jeremy over to blindfold me.

I allow him to tie the blindfold over my eyes until all I can see is darkness.

“Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” she asks.

“You’re in a boxing glove,” I deadpan.

She huffs. “Well. Good. You can’t see this.” She shoves me, causing me to stumble.

“So,” I start, my voice steady as I listen to her circle me, her footsteps light on the mat, “are you going to tell me what had you so pissed off earlier?”

She moves silently, and I can feel her presence, the way the air shifts around her. She taps my shoulder lightly, then darts away before I can react.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” I ask, more seriously this time, trying to track her with sound alone. She’s fast, unpredictable, and it’s pissing me off more than it should.

“Because you don’t really care,” she says, landing a light punch to my ribs. The hit isn’t hard, but it stings in a way that goes beyond physical pain.

“Who says I don’t care?” I snap, my voice rough, almost feral.

“Please, Silas. You only care when it fucking suits.”

My head snaps toward the sound of her voice, though the blindfold shields my eyes, her words slicing deeper than any physical hit. I swing wildly, rage clouding my judgment, but she dodges effortlessly, her steps light, teasing, like she knows she has the upper hand.

“You think I don’t care?” I growl, frustration rising as I reset my stance. “You think I’m doing all of this just for fun?”

She’s right in front of me again, her voice low and cold. “What else do you do, Silas, if not for your own twisted amusement?” She punctuates her words with a jab to my ribs.

“You think I wanted you here—at The Manor—because it amuses me?” I rip the blindfold off, my vision locking on her instantly. My chest heaves with barely contained anger as I close the distance between us, towering over her. “You think this is all some fucking game?”

Her gaze is defiant, her hazel eyes blazing with fury. “Isn’t it? Isn’t that what this always is to you? One big game where you pull all the strings, and I’m just another piece on your fucking board.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Sable,” I growl, stepping even closer, our bodies almost touching. I want her to feel the weight of every word, every inch of my presence. “I’ve never played games with you.”

She scoffs, but there’s no humor in it—just pure bitterness. “You fucked me like I was nothing but some fucking whore, Silas. And you don’t even remember it. The one chance you begged me for growing up—I gave you everything, everything—and for what?”

Her words hit harder than any punch she’s thrown. My chest tightens, guilt and rage twisting inside me like a blade. “I never wanted you to feel like that. You should know that.”

“Then why didn’t you fight for me?” Her voice cracks, but the anger in her eyes burns hotter. “Why didn’t you fight for me? When I pulled away—when I distanced myself from you completely—you never once questioned why. You just let me go.”

“Because you deserve better than this,” I snarl, my voice lowering into a dangerous rumble, almost a growl. “Better than me.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I deserve,” she whispers, the pain seeping into her words. “You don’t ever get to decide that for me. I’ve loved you since I even knew what the word meant.”

The anger in her voice cracks open something I’ve tried to bury for years, but I can’t let her know. I won’t.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice strained with the effort of holding back, of not letting her break me. “You could never love me.”

“Stop saying that. Stop trying to convince yourself that you’re some kind of monster. Stop pushing me away.”

“You don’t understand,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with restraint, the words heavy on my tongue. “I’m doing this for you—to protect you from me.”

“And who the hell are you to decide that?” she fires back, her eyes narrowing, challenging me. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Silas. Not anymore.”

I feel my control slipping, unraveling piece by piece, and all the tension, all the words left unsaid over the years, surge up between us like a tidal wave. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I want to do is—fuck.

I should pull away. I should walk away. But I can’t. The pull between us is too strong, too dangerous, too fucking real.

“Then fight me for it,” she whispers, her voice trembling slightly, but her eyes locked on mine, daring me. “If you’re so sure you don’t deserve me, prove to me why. Prove to me that you’re not everything I’ve ever dreamed of you being.”

“You think you know me, Sable,” I growl, the words coming out harsh. “You don’t. You don’t know what kind of darkness I’m capable of. What I’ve done. You’ve built me up in your head like I’m something to be saved—something worthy of you. I’m not.”

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Silas,” she shoots back. “I never did. I just need you to be real. To stop hiding behind your bullshit and show me who you really are.”

Her breath is shaky, but she doesn’t back down, and it only pisses me off more. She has no idea what she’s asking for.

I take a step forward, closing the distance between us, and I can feel her body tense under the weight of my gaze. “You want the real me?” I snarl, my chest heaving with anger. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And before I even know what I’m doing, I close the gap, my lips crashing onto hers in a bruising, desperate kiss.

My arms wrap around her instinctively, lifting her off the ground as if she weighs nothing. Her legs coil around my waist, pulling me closer, and for a brief, fleeting moment, nothing else exists but her. Her taste, her scent, the way her body molds to mine. The gym, the world outside—it all disappears.

But just as quickly, she pulls away, breaking the kiss, her breathing ragged. She stares down at me, wide-eyed and shaken.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she says, her voice shaky.

I set her down gently, my hands lingering on her waist longer than they should. My forehead rests against hers. “Then why did you?” I murmur, my voice low, dangerous.

“You drive me insane, and I hate it... but somehow, I think I’d hate losing you even more.”

I freeze. My brain struggles to catch up, to process what she just said. Did she just admit that I matter to her? I want to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. I’m not sure I even know how to respond to her.

Instead of allowing me to process the words she just said, and try to come up with some half ass response, at least, she casually calls over some random guy to help her remove her gloves, like nothing happened, like she didn’t just rip open a part of me I’ve been trying to keep sealed shut.

She moves back to me afterward, as if we’re just two people in a gym and nothing more. My skin is still buzzing from her words, but I force myself to hold it together as she starts to unwrap my wrist, her touch too gentle for how fast my heart is pounding.

“Just answer me one question.”

I nod, barely breathing. “What?”

“How much do you trust, Levi?”

Her question is enough to pull me out of my head, even if my heart is still racing from her earlier admission. Levi. Murder. Cops. It’s enough to shift my focus.

“I trust him with my life,” I answer immediately, because it’s the truth. Levi’s like a brother to me. We’ve been through too much for me to even think about doubting him.

But then she drops another bomb. “Then why are the cops looking into him?”

I blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Gretchen—God, I don’t even know her last name—my partner in Tribal Arts. She told me the cops are looking into Levi for the murders.”

My gut clenches. The instinct to defend Levi is immediate. “It isn’t him,” I say, the words coming out almost automatically. But even as I say it, there’s this gnawing in my gut. Levi and I were together the night Toby was killed. None of this makes any sense.

Sable finishes unwrapping my wrist, but her hands linger on mine. She’s hesitant, like there’s something more she wants to say. I look down at her fingers, still wrapped around my wrist, and something in my chest tightens again.

“He just...” Her voice falters.

“Say it,” I urge, feeling like there’s a storm coming that I’m not ready for.

“The cops wouldn’t be looking into him if he wasn’t a viable option, right?”

Her words hang in the air, suffocating me. I shake my head, trying to fight off the doubt creeping into my thoughts. “It’s not true,” I say, trying to convince both of us. “And I’m having your partner switched.”

Sable steps back, putting distance between us like she needs space. “That’s going to make this worse,” she says, her voice hardening. “They called me your house girl today. I don’t need them thinking?—”

“House girl?” I cut her off, my voice rising. “We’re not Omega Chi. We don’t need a house whore.”

Her lips part like she’s going to argue, but I’m done with the nonsense. Before she can get another word out, I grip her chin, forcing her to look me in the eye. There’s no running from this.

“Wanting to claim you,” I growl, pulling her closer, “and calling you our house girl are two very different things.” I can see the way her breath falters. Good. I lean in, my voice lowering, turning rougher. “We don’t just want to fuck you, Sable. We want your mind, your body, your soul. Every. Damn. Piece of you.”

Her breath catches, and I can feel her wavering. I tilt her chin just a little higher, my eyes locked on hers.

“We don’t treat our whores with this kind of respect,” I finish, my words slicing through the silence.

I let her go, and she sags slightly, like my words just drained the fight out of her.

“Okay...”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I need to go figure out if what she said is true,” I tell her, my mind already spinning with the thought of Levi. “Is it okay if I have Jeremy take you back to The Manor?”

She nods. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

I walk away, leaving her standing there in the ring, my emotions a tangled mess. She just admitted that I drive her insane—that she hates it, but somehow can’t imagine losing me. And now I’m walking away like it didn’t just rock my entire world. What the hell is wrong with me?

I head toward the locker room, my thoughts a storm of confusion and anger. I’ve known Levi since we were kids. When he and his dad moved into Dayton’s house, he became part of our world. He’s quiet, brooding, the kind of guy who holds everything inside until it eats him alive. But a murderer? No. Not Levi. He’s a miserable asshole, sure, but not a killer. Not in cold blood.

I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to Levi.

Me

We need to talk. Urgent.

The murders have rocked all of us, but Levi being a suspect? That doesn’t track. I remember both nights, every second. He was with me. There’s no way he could have done it.

My phone buzzes. It’s Levi.

Levi

Meet me at the studio in ten.

I shove my phone back in my pocket and make my way out of the gym. Jeremy is leaning against the entrance, looking half-asleep.

“Jeremy,” I call, waving him over. “I need you to take Sable back to The Manor. Now.”

“Everything alright, man?”

“Just do it. I’ll explain later.”

He nods, heading back inside to find her. I let out a heavy breath, tension coiling in my chest.

I’m the leader of this frat, and if there’s a murderer living under my roof, I’m going to find out. Levi might be like a brother to me, but if he’s involved, if he’s responsible for what happened to Toby... God help him. Because he won’t just have the cops to deal with. He’ll have me.