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Chapter 2

Trey

If I’m a Devil, my father is the Grim Reaper.

At my side, his loafers click across the pavement and his lip curls at the helmet in my hands. He hates the bike, but his money paid for it. Bribery when his gardener threatened to sue him for poor working conditions and harassment, and I needed to lie through my teeth and deny the allegations.

He straightens his tie, leading the way to the athletic building that houses the rink. “You’re lucky I didn’t disown you with the mess you made.”

The mess . He means the attempted murder. At least, what should’ve been an attempted murder charge. Maybe two. Prison time. I made sure to use a dull knife so Novak would be spared, but damn did it feel good to cut open that asshole’s throat. In that moment, it was like I was dragging the blade across my father’s neck. But no matter how much of a jackass Novak was, he didn’t deserve to pay the price of my father’s deeds. Violet didn’t either.

Mine is the kind of father who’s got enough money to throw at any problem and make it go away, which is how I managed to skip prison time for probation. How I managed to get back on the Diamond University campus and its hockey team. How he manages to make people vanish and get away with it. How he manages to get away with beating his son within an inch of his life.

I was certain the night I dragged that knife across Novak’s throat was going to be my death sentence, but Father spared me. Left me broken, bloody, and bruised on the floor for nearly twelve hours until I was finally able to stand. I wish he would’ve ended it. Dumped my body with my mother’s.

Hurting Violet, hurting Novak, was my ticket out. Prison or death. I didn’t care which—only that whatever fate awaited me would free me from my father’s grasp.

But I should’ve learned a long time ago. No one ever escapes him.

I shrug, adjusting the heavy bag on my shoulder filled with all the hockey shit I was hoping I’d never have to touch again. The only part of hockey I can stand is the fighting. I’ll happily knock a two-hundred-pound motherfucker to the ice, but I couldn’t give less of a shit about the score on the board. “You said I needed to make captain. By any means necessary.”

“ Discreetly , Trey. With a single brain cell in that dense head of yours. Not with a dull knife in front of half a dozen witnesses.”

“Next time you want my competition eliminated, be a little more specific. Or, better yet, handle it yourself.” We both know how skilled he is at that.

“I don’t have time for your childish insolence.” His dark eyes flash. Somehow, there’s always a vacancy to them. Flat, lifeless. Like he’s a body and a brain but nothing more. “Let’s find your coach. I’ve got far more important matters on my plate than the politics of a college hockey team.”

“Thought you were Head of Athletics.”

“What was that?” His eyes flash, and I bite back my words.

His title is merely that. He outsources the actual job duties to his subordinates but still manages to take home a hefty salary. One of those open secrets that everyone knows, but no one does shit about it because he uses his businesses to donate generously to the teams, especially the Diamond Devils.

Men like my father don’t suffer consequences for their actions. They get away with their crimes for a lifetime because money and influence make you untouchable. Above the law. Above nature.

An image flashes of the little demon from the haunt by my side as I slash my father’s throat, both of us laughing as the blood splashes our faces and pools at our feet. Her beaming at me with his blood on her teeth as she launches herself at me and I fuck her in the crimson puddle beneath us.

But even though she nearly let me fuck her out in the open on the haystacks, she’s not as crazy as me. If she knew how deranged I am, she wouldn’t have let me do what I did to her.

Vanderbilt and Rockefeller were talking a big game about how they were going to scare the psycho who can’t be scared. Obviously, I had to join in. Give her a night she’d never forget. But I’m the one who can’t shake off the memory of her tight little body writhing beneath me, her skin covered in ink I wanted to memorize, piercings lining her ears and sparkling in her nose and splitting her brow that made me want to explore the rest of her, her glorious tits and ass barely covered by the black crop top and tiny skirt, the heels of her boots digging into my spine as I rubbed my cock between her legs until she was shuddering and screaming.

Fuck, that was the best sound I’ve ever heard. Better than the screams of terror from all the easy prey that night. I’m great in bed, but I’ve never made a girl come by grinding on her before.

Juliet Hayes . I’ll find her again. Give her another night with the masked man, but this time, I’ll fuck her when I catch her.

Inside the rink, Father claps a hand on my shoulder before reaching out to shake Coach’s with a grin. The grin that manages to convince anyone who doesn’t know him that he’s charming and friendly. Trustworthy.

Coach grins back at him as they shake hands. He knows who signs his checks. Father could easily have him fired. “Charles! How are you?”

“Fantastic, as always. Just wanted to make sure Trey here made it to practice on time. Had some transportation issues this morning.” He lies like he breathes air.

Coach’s gaze drops to my fat lip, but he doesn’t say a damn word because who is he to question whether the Head of Athletics punched his son in the mouth yesterday? “Glad to have you back, Trey.”

I suppress a laugh. Not a single person on this team is happy to see me, including Coach. I might’ve been a decent defenseman, but I’m not a team player. Definitely not the type of guy who wants to deal with anybody while I’m sober, especially a bunch of roid-raging frat boys in helmets.

But Father was his university’s hockey captain, so I’ll follow in his footsteps. I’m not his son—I’m his clone. Except when he remembers I have a brain and a mouth of my own. One that he has to turn off and shut up.

Father’s hand on my shoulder squeezes. “Since it’s Trey’s senior year, we expect he’ll be captain.”

Coach’s smile starts to wane. “That’s up to the team.”

“I’m sure you can persuade them.” Father claps me on the back, the smile never slipping from his face even when he wants to strangle Coach for daring to defy him. “Trey will prove his worthiness.”

Coach nods. “I’ll be sure to discuss it with the team.”

Father’s smile sours, and I’m happy to get the hell out of there when he tells me to hit the locker room. No desire to watch as my father rips Coach a new asshole. I’ll be captain. No question about it.

In the locker room, I trade my leather jacket and bike helmet for my hockey gear. Haven’t missed this shit one bit, but taking out my rage on some giant, bumbling idiots will help quench my bloodlust. For a little while.

On the ice, skates roar and shouts echo. Most of the Devils hardly pay any attention to me. They only care that they’ve got another ruthless player on their team, especially now that they’ve lost Novak. But a few of the Devils are targeting me more than the puck.

Luke Valentine, Damien Vanderbilt, Knox Rockefeller, and Finn Ashby. They’re still loyal to Novak, even with his ass off campus in the NHL. Valentine resents me for what I did to his little friends. That’s clear by the glare that never leaves the back of my head while he guards the net. Good thing he’s our goalie—he might be pissed enough to wipe me out. I don’t need another concussion. All the head trauma is probably why I’m as fucked up as I am.

When Coach disappears, the three Devils hone in on me, the puck forgotten. Vanderbilt skates right for me, not bothering to hide his intentions as he slams into me.

I’m flat on my back in seconds, teeth clacking together and head swimming. Fuck . Pain rips through my back and limbs, rattling my brain. These helmets don’t do shit for mitigating the pain. They only keep you alive, and what good is that?

“Fuck off, Vanderbilt!” When I climb back onto my skates, fury boils in my veins. The excuse I’ve been needing to tear the lid off the screaming kettle and let it rip.

Vanderbilt is the biggest motherfucker on the team, at least six-seven and built like the Hulk. I don’t give a fuck. Let him knock out my teeth, break a few bones, and bench me for the season.

I swing at him and Vanderbilt drags me to the wall, slamming me against it. My vision blurs as the guys shout and chant around us.

My fist collides with his throat and he chokes, bending just enough for me to send my knee into his abdomen.

Rockefeller and Valentine separate us, holding both of us back like charging bulls. Ashby gets between us, hands up.

I shake off Rockefeller’s hold. “Don’t fuck with your captain.”

“You’re not our captain,” Valentine snarls.

“We’ll see what Coach says about that.”

Vanderbilt straightens and points his stick at me. “Daddy’s money can’t buy everything.”

The rage hasn’t lessened—it’s only boiling faster. “His money’s got nothing to do with it. Whatever I want, I get.”

I might not give a fuck about captain, but I want the title if they plan on keeping it from me.

“What the hell’s going on? Get your asses moving!” Coach’s shout sends the other players back into position.

Valentine and his cronies ignore Coach’s order. Rockefeller nods at me. “Were you the guy who grabbed Juliet in the corn maze?”

I shrug. “So what if I was?”

The four of them exchange snickers beneath their helmets. “You’ll never manage to get a girl like her,” Vanderbilt says, amused.

“I already have.”

The four of them laugh, even Ashby, the Devil I’ve never heard utter a word. Valentine shakes his head. “You have no clue who you’re dealing with. She’s unhinged. She’ll give you a run for your fucking money.”

He’s wrong. My little demon is already putty in my hands. A snap of my fingers and she’ll be spreading her legs, slipping on my jersey, and cheering for me from the stands.

“Like I said. Whatever I want, I get.”

In the parking lot, I slip on my helmet and kickstart my bike, engine roaring. Made sure to get the loudest one I could find so Father will grit his teeth every time he hears me ripping around campus or up his driveway.

“Lamont!” Coach half-jogs toward me, gripping a clipboard as he holds out his other hand to me. “Congratulations. You’re our new captain.”

I shake his hand. “They chose me?”

His lips flatten, emotionless gaze telling me everything I need to know. “Something like that.”

That’s what I thought. “See you tomorrow.”

Engine whining, leather gloves twisting the handlebars, I take off for the dining hall.

In front of me, an incredible ass sways on the sidewalk, covered by a thin, skin-tight black skirt. Her top stops just above her ass, revealing a sliver of inked skin. Can’t tell from this distance what it is, but I’m going to trace the lines of that tattoo until I have it memorized. Dark tights cover her legs, disappearing beneath her skirt. Exactly where I want to be. Her long black hair mixed with streaks of crimson swishes with every step, practically begging me to pull it. Tug it while she’s blowing me, her tears mixing with her saliva.

I’ll oblige her. I’ll do every dirty thing she craves. Everything she whispered to me that night when I had her pinned down, writhing beneath me.

She doesn’t flinch at the roar of the engine as I rev it beside her, slowing until I match her pace and flip up my visor. Her blue eyes land on me, electric and piercing. Vicious.

I won Juliet over with my mask on, and now I’ll convince her to respond to me the same way with the mask off. I’ll get her to fall for me and make the Devils eat their words.

“Trey Lamont.” My name leaves her mouth in a taunt. A singsong like she’s not scared of me in the slightest.

She should be.

Juliet Hayes knows my name, but she doesn’t know the identity of the man beneath the mask. “Have we met?”

My little demon rolls her gorgeous eyes and keeps walking, hips swinging. I need to grab that fucking ass and take it while I fuck her into the dirt. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“What reputation is that?”

“That you’re fucking deranged.” A little snicker curls at the edge of her mouth. She likes that I’m fucking deranged, but she can’t admit it.

“I’ve heard the same about you.” The psycho . I want to find out exactly how psychotic she is.

“You haven’t heard anything close to what I’ve heard about you.” The sun beams down on her, turning her black hair shiny. “Tell me: how do you get away with trying to kill a guy in front of multiple witnesses? Now that’s impressive.”

Something’s off about her tone. Can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or if part of her secretly wants to know my methods. Maybe she’s plotting a murder of her own. Just hope it’s not mine. I’d rather not kill her. She’ll be much more fun to play with. “Let me give you a ride, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

That makes her stop in her tracks. I’ve got her now. Girls either fall for the hockey helmet or the bike helmet. Doesn’t take much. “On the bike?”

I grin. “On whatever you want.”

“I don’t ride bikes.” She bats her lashes before striding down the sidewalk again. “Or hockey players.”

Little does she know, she almost did.

“You can use my helmet.” I don’t give a shit if I have to go without it. Splattering my brains on the concrete at seventy miles an hour will be a great way to go.

Juliet flips me her middle finger. “Fuck off already.”

My bike tire hits the sidewalk as I snatch her arm, teeth clenching. Her fucking attitude is starting to piss me off. I’d like to fuck it out of her mouth.

Her eyes widen for a split second before she schools them back to neutrality. Refusing to let me know I scare her.

The touch is electrifying. By the spark in her eyes, she feels it too. Two demons sent from hell to find each other.

A glint of white gold on her finger catches in the sunlight. A slithering serpent. “Nice ring.”

My little demon flashes me a sickly sweet smile. “Careful. She bites.”

“I bite back.”

She jerks away from me, the warmth of her arm disappearing from my palm and our connection breaking with it.

Without another word, she spins and launches a kick at my bike so hard it wobbles beneath me, the metallic thud rattling my brain.

Valentine wasn’t lying—she is a fucking psycho. My hands grip the handlebars hard enough to splinter them. “Nobody fucks with my bike.”

I’ll have her on her knees buffing and cleaning it before she blows me. She’ll swallow two loads and promise to be a good girl before I let her stand back up.

“Nobody fucks with me .” She backs away, keeping her eyes on mine. “Be careful. You don’t want to start shit with me. I’ll bring hell raining down on you.”

I grin. “Do it.”

My little demon saunters away.

With my mask on, she wanted to fuck me, but without it, she wants nothing to do with me.

Juliet glances back only when someone shouts her name. A brunette waves over her head, half-jogging to catch up with her. Valentine’s chick. She frowns at me when she notices who’s lingering on his bike beside her friend.

I flip my visor back in place before twisting the throttle and taking off, rear wheel squealing as the front nearly comes off the pavement.

My little demon will be more difficult to catch than I thought.