Page 9

NINE

KAI

I flash my Delta Sigma Nu officer card at the bouncer, and without hesitation, the brute of a man let Dayton and me through. The guy’s neck is thicker than my thigh, his face covered in tattoos like some walking billboard for trouble. He moves aside with the kind of detached professionalism I’ve come to expect from these underground fights.

“Who’s he fighting tonight?” Dayton asks beside me as we navigate the narrow corridor, the sound of muffled conversations and distant shouts growing louder as we approach the arena. Every Friday, it’s the same routine—coordinated fights in this old warehouse on the outskirts of campus. All three fraternities participate, plus a few outsiders looking for the thrill of throwing punches at Ashen Grove’s privileged elites.

“Some chump from Psi Theta,” I reply, barely interested. “Sophomore, I think.”

“I don’t know how they even let Silas get a cut of the earnings. It’s unfair to put someone up against him. The guy has years of close combat experience.”

I shrug. “Just be happy he isn’t taking his grumpy ass attitude out on us tonight.”

We reach the main arena. It’s a makeshift stadium with a boxing ring in the center, the sunken floor surrounded by rows of hastily assembled bleachers. The dim lighting and the grime-streaked windows near the ceiling create an atmosphere where rules don’t exist and blood spills as freely as beer.

“I guess people just want to see Silas beat the shit out of someone,” I say, slipping into our designated seats in the front row. The smell of sweat, beer, and that metallic tang of adrenaline fills the air, mingling with the thumping bass of some viral diss track blasting through the speakers.

Dayton ruffles his brown hair, scanning the room. His eyes dart around, taking in the crowd—a mix of fraternity brothers, curious outsiders, and a few girls hanging off their dates like accessories.

Levi’s with Silas in the locker room, as usual. Silas never chooses Dayton or me to be his right-hand men for these fights. Mostly because I’d jump in and ruin the balance of the match, and Dayton... well, he’d probably faint at the sight of blood.

I unbutton the first two buttons of my shirt, feeling the warm air settle around me, and lean back into the uncomfortable stadium chair. More of our frat brothers pass by, exchanging nods and quick glances, all sizing each other up without making it obvious. It’s a hierarchy here, too, just like everywhere else.

Then a pledge walks past with a petite blonde glued to his side, her giggles almost lost in the noise of the crowd. I recognize him—thick-rimmed glasses, wavy hair, and the look of someone trying too hard to fit in.

“Hey!” I call out, and the kid freezes like a deer caught in headlights. He takes a few cautious steps toward us, his face pale as he realizes who’s summoning him.

“Yes?” he asks, his voice shaky, thick glasses slipping down his nose. He’s the type who belongs in Psi Theta, but his family’s alumni status forced him into our fraternity.

“Only members’ guests in this section,” I remind him, my voice low and steady as I point to the sign. “Members can have guests. But pledges? They can’t.”

“I can call my dad—” the kid stammers, his hand already diving into his pocket for his phone. He’s a few inches shorter than me, fresh-faced, barely out of high school by the look of him. When I huff, his hair barely stirs.

A soft chuckle escapes my throat as I watch the pathetic scene unfold. It’s almost sad how clueless these pledges are. Dayton, towering over the kid, moves with the kind of lethal grace that makes me pause, intrigued. His hand snaps forward, grabbing the pledge’s wrist before the phone ever leaves his pocket. With one sharp yank, Dayton rips his arm free and twists it mercilessly.

“Your daddy?” Dayton growls, his lips curling into a dangerous sneer. His other hand snakes up, fingers wrapping around the pledge’s throat, squeezing hard enough that the kid’s eyes widen in shock. “Have you met mine?”

The pledge struggles, his eyes slightly bulging. “He—he’s dead, aren’t you a f-fucking murderer?”

My head tilts, eyes squint. Oh, this kid is fucked.

Dayton pulls the pledge closer, their faces inches apart. “What did you just fucking call me?” Spit flies from his lips, landing across the pledge’s cheek, who now looks like he’s staring death in the face.

I look around and see that we have created a scene. The girl he came with has scurried away like a little rat.

Typical AGU bitches.

The pledge’s face starts to turn a sickly shade of purple, his struggles to weaken under Dayton’s grip. I rest my hand on Dayton’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “We’ve got an audience, Dayton. Let him go.”

But Dayton’s too far gone. His jaw clenched so tight I can hear the grind of his teeth. His eyes—wild and lost in some other memory—don’t blink. He’s slipping. Fast.

“Dayton,” I murmur, more insistent this time, leaning in closer. “Now.”

It takes a second for my words to sink in, but finally, something flickers in his gaze, and he lets go of the pledge’s throat—though not before twisting the kid’s wrist at an unnatural angle. There’s a loud crack, followed by a high-pitched yelp of pain.

“You’re fucking crazy!” the pledge gasps, clutching his injured wrist, face pale with terror.

Dayton leans down, his lips almost brushing the kid’s ear. “No,” he whispers, his voice dark. “I’m only going to say this once. Get out of my sight or I’ll send you to the grave like I did to my father.”

I raise an eyebrow, watching the pledge’s face drain of the last bit of color. We all know what Dayton and his mom went through with his father, but no one ever talks about it. Still, Dayton’s the heir to Hughes Enterprises, and in a year and a half, he’ll have his trust fund unlocked, along with the keys to his own empire.

The pledge doesn’t waste a second. He scrambles to his feet and bolts out of the club as fast as his legs can carry him.

I turn to Dayton, my hand still on his shoulder. “You good, man?” I ask as one of the bar girls arrives with beers for both of us, her eyes lingering on Dayton with cautious curiosity.

Dayton rolls his eyes, popping off the cap and downing half the bottle in one long swig. “Fuck these pledges,” he mutters, slamming the bottle down on the table. “The fucking audacity. ‘His daddy’? I want that kid’s name, and I want you to fuck with his enrollment records.”

A grin spreads across my face. “Consider it done,” I say, my voice calm and measured as I take a slow sip of my beer, letting the bitter hops settle on my tongue. Wrecking some wannabe pledge’s life? That’s child’s play. I could have him expelled by Monday if I wanted.

My uncle owns the biggest cybersecurity firm in the country, and I’m already lined up to take over as COO once I graduate. By sixteen, I’d already dismantled his biggest competitor with a virus so vicious it corrupted every system they had in less than two hours. Their clients were calling my uncle nonstop for months after that.

So causing a little misery for a nobody pledge, is child’s play at best.

I hear her giggle before I even see her. Sable. Her laugh cuts through the low buzz of the club like a shot of adrenaline straight to my chest. My heart does this strange flip—unfamiliar and unwelcome, but undeniable. She’s over in the Omega Chi Kappa section, bathed in the dim light, but even in the shadows, she’s radiant. Her hair falls in soft waves, catching the light in strands of gold.

She’s wearing a midnight-blue dress that clings to her body like a second skin, the neckline plunging low enough to make my mouth go dry. Every curve is on full display, her tits bouncing with each playful shove she gives the guy sitting next to her.

My jaw tightens as I lock eyes on the asshole who’s responsible for that sound—her laughter.

I’ll kill him.

I’ll carve him up.

I’ll murder his whole damn goddamn family

I size him up, my eyes raking over his broad frame. Even from here, I recognize him. Asher Blackwood. His family runs in the same circles as mine, but I’ve never bothered to pay him much attention. He’s irrelevant—like most people. Not worth my time. But now, watching his hand slide down Sable’s back, stopping just above her ass as she leans into his touch, I can feel the anger start to burn in my veins.

I’ll cut that hand off, blend it, and make him drink it through a fucking straw.

Dayton’s eyes finally land on what I am fuming over. “Is that Asher?” he asks. My jaw clenches. “What’s he doing with Sable?”

My shoulders shrug like I don’t care, but inside, the sight of them together makes me want to tear the place apart. “Guess they’re on a date,” I say through gritted teeth.

Dayton’s eyes darken, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Like fuck she is.” Without another word, he bolts toward them, pushing through the crowd like a man possessed. I’m right behind him, adrenaline spiking as we move past the mob gathering around the opening fight. People are too distracted by the blood in the ring to notice us. One fighter lands a right hook, sending the other sprawling on the mat, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

But we don’t stop until we’re right in front of Sable and Asher. Dayton doesn’t bother with introductions. He snakes an arm around Sable’s waist, yanking her off her seat and away from Asher like she’s a possession he’s reclaiming.

“Hey—” Sable protests, her eyes flashing in surprise, but the moment she sees us, the shock fades into frustration. “What the hell are you two doing?”

Asher’s face hardens as he rises from his seat, grabbing Sable’s wrist like he has some kind of claim on her. “Let go of my girl, dude.”

Dayton’s lip curls in a sneer. “She’s not your girl.”

Sable’s eyes flick between the two of us, her mouth tightening. “Yeah. I’m not anyone’s girl!” she snaps, pulling her arm free.

But I step closer, leaning in. “Actually... she’s property of DSN.”

Her head whips around, fury blazing in her eyes. “No, I am not.”

I lean in, my grin turning wicked as my lips press against the shell of her ear. “You will be when I’m done with you.”

Her face drains with color, and I feel the tension ripple through her body. My cock twitches at the thought of her under me, her lips parting in a scream of pleasure as I make her mine. She can pretend to hate it all she wants, but we both know she’s playing with fire. And I’ll burn her alive if I have to.

Dayton’s arm tightens around her waist. “Thanks for keeping our girl entertained, Asher. We’ll take it from here.” He throws her over his shoulder in one swift movement, his hand steadying her ass to make sure her dress doesn’t ride up. The possessiveness in his movements is unmistakable.

“Put me down, you fucking monster!” Sable shrieks, pounding her fists against Dayton’s back.

But Dayton just chuckles, his grip unrelenting. “No can do, babygirl,” he says, giving her ass a light smack as he strides back toward our section, completely unfazed by her struggling.

Asher just stands there, his mouth open like he might say something, but he doesn’t. He knows better. He’s not an officer, and we outrank him in the Greek hierarchy. He could fight back, but it wouldn’t do him any good. We aren’t cavemen like him and his fraternity brothers. We take what we want because we can, and we don’t need to throw a punch to do it. DSN owns this campus. Asher knows it, and so does everyone else.

“This is barbaric,” Sable hisses, still slapping at Dayton’s back as she glares at me over her shoulder.

Dayton drops her down into a seat with a smirk and takes the spot beside her. I slide in on her other side, boxing her in. Her posture is stiff, her expression a storm of defiance, but I can see the way her chest rises and falls just a little too quickly, the slight tremble in her hands. She might not admit it, but part of her loves this—loves the chaos we bring, the attention, the danger.

The crowd roars again as the announcer’s voice booms through the club, signaling the start of the main event. Silas steps into the ring, his DSN hoodie hanging loosely off his shoulders, the hood shadowing his face. He’s dressed in venom-green shorts that sit just below his hip bones, hands wrapped in black tape courtesy of Levi’s handiwork.

Levi walks beside him and my breath hitches slightly. His composure is like steel, emotions locked down tight as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. His arms are a canvas of ink, the tattoos representing us—four skulls marking our brotherhood—bold on his forearm. He hands Silas a water bottle, squirting some into his mouth, his movements measured and deliberate.

Silas tears off his hoodie, revealing his chiseled, sweat-slicked torso, and the crowd goes wild. The roar is deafening, but all I care about is her reaction. I glance down to catch a glimpse of Sable’s face. Her eyes are locked on Silas, her lips parting slightly, her breath quickening. She’s mesmerized, and I know it. A slow smile spreads across my face. She can’t help herself, and that makes this all the sweeter.

Dayton leans over, his voice a low growl. “A horny little thing, aren’t you?”

Her head snaps toward him, her eyes narrowing in defiance. “No, I’m not. I can just appreciate the male form, can’t I?”

I chuckle, sliding my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into me. Her body tenses, but I don’t let her go. “Oh, I appreciate the male form too, trust me. Take Levi over there.” I point toward the ring, where Levi is helping Silas lace up his gloves. “He’s mine. I mean, I’ll share him with you, of course. Once you get a good look at that body, you’ll want more than just a peek.”

Her spine stiffens under my arm, and she shoots me a look of pure venom, but I see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She’s trying so hard to hold on to her fury. “You two have no right to drag me away from Asher,” she spits, her voice sharp. “I can hang out with whoever I want.”

Dayton chuckles, the sound dark and mocking. “Asher’s a piece of shit. We’re just looking out for your best interests.”

“Looking out for me?” she spits back. “Or controlling me? Did Silas put you up to this?”

I tighten my grip on her shoulder, leaning in closer until my cheek brushes hers. Her skin is warm, and I can feel her pulse quicken beneath my touch. “No. We wanted you for ourselves tonight, actually. But look at how having you in between us pisses him off.”

Sable’s gaze flicks to Silas, who’s glaring in our direction, his jaw clenched as he shoves his mouth guard in. The bell rings, signaling the first round, but his focus is split—half on the fight, half on us.

“If he’s so mad, why are you still here?”

“Because you’re DSN property,” I reply smoothly, brushing a strand of hair away from her neck, exposing the soft skin there. My fingers linger, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my touch.

Her chest rises and falls quickly, and for a moment, I see real fear in her eyes, mingled with anger. “I’m not some damsel. I don’t need saving,” she insists, but her voice trembles.

Dayton’s hand moves to her knee, his touch firm, possessive. “We’re not here to save you, babygirl. We’re here to make sure you’re not wasting your time with the likes of him.”

She pulls away, her face flushed with fury. “I am not your property!”

I smile, a dark, twisted smile. “Not yet. But you will be.”

Her eyes widen, shock flickering across her face before she masks it with anger. “You’re insane,” she whispers.

“Maybe,” I admit, my voice low, almost a purr. “But we know what’s best for you. And it’s not some Omega Chi reject like Asher.”

The crowd erupts as Silas lands a brutal punch, but I barely notice. All I care about is the girl between us, the way her body stiffens, her eyes darting back to the ring as if looking for some escape. But she’s stuck here—with us.

Dayton leans back in his seat, his gaze never leaving Sable. “Just sit back and enjoy the fight, babygirl. We’ll talk more later.”

She bristles at the nickname but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns her attention back to the ring, watching Silas with an intensity that sends another wave of jealousy through me.

Silas moves with a deadly grace, each punch calculated, each hit deliberate. The crowd is on their feet, roaring with excitement. All I can think about is the girl sitting between us and the dark, twisted desire that burns in my veins. But I notice something off in his rhythm. His eyes keep darting to our section, to Sable sitting between us. The anger in his gaze is unmistakable.

Silas lands a heavy blow on his opponent, but his attention isn’t fully there. His focus is split, his movements less fluid, more aggressive. The crowd cheers louder, unaware of his tilted demeanor right now.

“Watch closely. You’re affecting him.” I nod my head at Silas whose whole body is buzzing with energy now.

She looks at me, confused. “What do you mean?”

I smirk. “He’s jealous. Seeing you with us, it’s throwing him off his game.”

Sable’s eyes widen as she watches Silas miss a block, taking a punch to the side of his face. He recoils, shaking his head, but his gaze finds us again, full of rage and frustration.

Dayton chuckles. “Look at him. He’s losing it because of you.”

“I didn’t mean to—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re in his head now. It might even work to his advantage.”

Silas roars, delivering a brutal combination that sends his opponent staggering. The crowd erupts, but Silas’ eyes never leave us. He’s fighting with a ferocity that’s fueled by more than just competition—it’s personal.

Sable watches, her breath hitching with each punch.

He rips off his gloves, throwing them to the ground, and steps out of the ring. The crowd parts for him as he makes his way toward us, his expression a storm of emotions. Levi runs after Silas, trying to catch up with him. “Silas, wait!” he calls, but Silas doesn’t stop. He pushes through the crowd, his eyes never leaving us.

I tighten my hold on Sable, pulling her closer as Silas approaches. His chest rises and falls with barely contained rage as he stops in front of us, glaring at me with pure hatred. “Taunting me with her? Really?”

“Better us than Asher Blackwood.” Dayton shrugs.

“This isn’t over,” he growls, his eyes burning into mine.

“Of course not,” I replied calmly. “It’s just beginning.”