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five

Dad’s broad shoulders stiffen as he slugs a drink of bourbon and offers me one. “Aiden said it went smoothly.”

I snap my narrowed gaze at Aiden, who plucks something off his Italian leather shoe. Fucking tattletale. “Yep.” The glass is heavy, but I slam it all back in one go, the burn of the alcohol easing my irritation from being at home. With him . My father, CEO of Cardell Enterprises.

“I’m glad.”

With a straight face, I manage to say, “I bet you are.”

Henry drops a baseball he’d been tossing in the air, and it rolls on the credenza until it knocks over a picture of all of us on the lake. “Sorry.”

Dad ignores it, but Aiden’s jaw clenches at my youngest brother’s interruption. Dad continues with a pleading voice. “I am, Ryan. I don’t want you to get hurt. Any of you. I love you, Son. I do.”

Part of me softens at his words. I know he loves me, but the fact he’s pushing me to follow a plan I don’t want is infuriating. “I know.”

Aiden stands and brushes off his black sweater, then announces, “I’m going to help Mom, Olivia, and Alice.”

After he exits, I understand that this day was a setup for me. To keep me in line. They must have noticed the distance between us. With graduation looming, they need me to be compliant.

Dad and Aiden are too much alike and have probably been planning this chat for over a year. Henry doesn’t leave, though, and for once, I’m glad he’s here with me.

With a heavy sigh, Dad’s crystal-blue eyes search mine.

Little Xavier Cardell is what everyone calls me, thinking we’re so identical.

Except he and Aiden are more similar than he and I.

Mom says Dad used to be full of joy and pranks, and that he was lighthearted at times, too.

He’s never shown that side to me. To Henry and the girls, sure.

But not to his oldest son, his heir.

My dad’s face is tired as he shuffles some papers around his desk and asks, “Where do you think the orders come from?”

“The Board of Trustees at Northview University.” I pause for him to say something, but he waits for me to continue. I shrug. “So resign. We don’t need them.” I’ve said this many times before.

Lifting his icy stare, he says with a solid voice, “You don’t understand, Ryan. There is no quitting from this.”

My fierce gaze doesn’t waver from his, both of us at a standstill. Him trying to will me into behaving and me trying to find a way out.

“I’m going to be CEO of Cardell Enterprises,” Henry says as he tosses his baseball in the air again and flops into Aiden’s abandoned seat.

Dad and I glance at him. He’s obliviously happy, with a goofy smile painted across his face.

Under his backwards hat, he looks like a fuckboy, so I reach over and slap at the brim until it pops off his head. “Hey!”

“Hay is for horses.”

He grabs his cap and throws it back on, neighing at me.

“Dinner!” Alice yells at us like we didn’t just hear her stomping all the way down the hall to announce it. I rush over and toss her tiny body over my shoulder while she screams, then I run full speed into the living room with Henry laughing right behind us. “Put me down!” she squeals.

“Not unless you say the magic word.”

“Asshole!”

“Alice Elizabeth!” My mom scolds her, and I smirk at my victory for getting my youngest sister into trouble.

When I set her on her feet, she slaps my chest. I fake a gasp like it hurt. “Terrible mouth on this girl, Mom. She’s only sixteen, and she talks like this? You need to up your parenting skills, Dad,” I tell him as we pile up near the dining table.

My oldest sister Olivia hands me a dish, and I slide it over with the rest, then grab her for a swift kiss on the cheek. “How’s Cunter, Livy? Get rid of him yet?”

She shirks me off with a shove of her shoulder and narrows her eyes. “It’s Hunter and no.”

Aiden and I exchange secret glances, our lust for murder heightening.

Her boyfriend is a total douchebag and not only because he’s Beta Kappa Eta’s president.

Why dad hasn’t taken care of him is beyond me, but he gave us orders not to touch him.

Part of me worries she’s been appointed to be his, and the thought makes my blood boil.

As we eat, I sense Mom wanting to discuss something, and the awkwardness reminds me of why I haven’t been here in a month. It’s always the same script—the company, plans after graduation, my appointed . “Hockey starting soon?” she asks benignly, but I bet it’s going to lead into something else.

“Yeah. Practice starts next week.”

“I worry about you hurting your head again. And if you’re not pursuing it for your future…”

“I’m not. No interest in that. But I do want to play.” It’s fun. Just nothing I want to make a career out of. Playing, at least. I could see myself doing something with the NHL, but I’m not sure. Besides, according to everyone else, I don’t get a choice.

“You be careful out there. I’ll still support you, you know that.”

“I haven’t gotten a concussion once,” Henry adds. He’s been super annoying about getting a scholarship as a freshman starter for the Northview Nighthawks baseball team.

“Maybe you need one,” I tell him.

Dad clears his throat and breaks his conversation with Aiden, the two probably planning for world domination at the corner of the table. “I like that you’re playing this year before you come on board. You can work on your MBA when you start at the office.”

My teeth grit as I stare at my half-finished plate, not hungry anymore.

Mom slaps his elbow and interrupts. “Any news on your appointed, Ryan? Get your letter yet?”

With my eyes still on my dish, I shake my head. “No.”

Mom takes a sip of wine and says cheerfully, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be Elina.”

If it is, I may have to veer to the left…

“Fuck! I think Coach is going to make me stay after practice,” Lan says after spitting out his mouth guard. While he skates backward, huffing in deep breaths, he eyes Coach Bell nervously.

He and I are starting forwards and work well together, for the most part. Only when Landon isn’t stuffing his face with candy or late getting to the ice because of fucking random puck bunnies in the weight room. “Bunnies” being plural. Like, all at once.

“Serves you right. You’re slower than a tortoise. Get good,” I say.

He slaps my knee pads with his stick as a warning, and Coach glances at us. With his full chest, he calls out, “Great skills today, Cardell!”

I aim my winning smile his way and return a head nod. “Thanks, Coach! See you tomorrow.” Shoving my glove into Lan’s shoulder, I push him toward the bench.

As soon as we enter the locker room, I rip off my sweaty practice jersey and toss it into the hamper.

“Missed you over the summer, Cardell. Nice moves out there today,” Jax Wilson, our team captain and one of our defenders, says, slapping me on the back. “You going to try for an agent?”

Wiping some of the sweat from my face, I shake my head. “Nah. Not really interested in continuing. Maybe become a scout and travel.” That would be the dream. Live in an RV, tour around the country for prospects, and enjoy my life the way I want. Be free.

“How’s the head? You still getting off balance?”

Once my skates are off, I shrug. “Sometimes, but not too bad. Coach says I gotta start a new cross-training program to help.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Jax turns his conversation to the other team members, but their muffled words fade fast when I open my locker.

My fingers grip the harsh metal edge of the door.

I flinch as our goalie slaps my ass with a towel.

All the mess I’d just mopped off my forehead returns at the sight of a red envelope tucked inside on the bottom shelf.

A wax stamp embossed with a number seals it shut. A nine, not a Theta… This isn’t good.

“You find out about your appointed yet? I got mine…” Landon’s voice sounds so far away; I can’t hear him over the pounding of my heart in my chest. Is this my doomed fate inscribed on one five-by-seven piece of paper?

My hand trembles as I take the stiff card and crack the seal. When I open it, a flood of relief washes over me as I see it’s only an invite to Massacre Monday. I snort a chuckle at how anxious I was. Stupid Greek Games for underclassmen.

The summons is for the following Monday during the waxing crescent moon.

As with all the events, the rules state we can’t bring phones, must present sexually transmitted disease tests before entering, and are forbidden from carrying weapons.

Girls are strongly encouraged to use some form of birth control, though condoms are always provided.

Most of these fucks don’t bother with them, though.

“I’m too old for Massacre Monday,” I say, shaking my head and holding up the card.

Landon strips and runs a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “You’ll most likely be an alumni judge. I don’t know if they’ve had a fifth year participate in the past. But we could use you for the points, bro.”

With a smirk, I flick the invitation back into the locker. It flips over and all the dread returns in full force.

On the back is an announcement for my own Culling ceremony…

To my appointed.

Despite a shower, my body still shivers, that sick feeling in my stomach not going away, even after grabbing dinner at the athletic center cafeteria. Some of the pasta rolls around until I have to pause with my hand on the doorframe of my apartment, hoping to hold it all in.

Like a death warrant, the red envelope sits in my pocket.

When I open the door, I toss the keys into the bowl and think about calling Mom to make me feel better, but halt in my steps.

Elina Burberry kneels on my bed, wearing a pink lacy bra and panties, and one of those strappy garter belt things.

She blinks like she’s nervous, flipping her medium-length blonde hair over one shoulder.

“Hi, honey,” she says, then bites her bottom lip.

She must’ve heard what happened already. How the fuck does she know so fast?