Page 14 of Slick & Spooky
“Use your words, Pledge.”
He eases up only a fraction. Enough to let Tripp drag in one ugly gasp.
“N-no…”
Knox leans closer, heat pouring off him, menace woven into every syllable. “I can’t hear you.”
“No, Sir…” Tripp croaks, voice breaking.
Knox lets it hang there knowing every brother in the room will absorb it. Meanwhile, the moment etches itself into me like it’s carving out space I didn’t offer.
“Because from where I’m standing,” Knox says slowly, “it looks like you’ve got an issue with Finley.” His eyes cut to me and my whole body goes hot. “So let me make this clear.”
He slams Tripp harder against the wall, a thud that rattles the frames.
“Any issue you have with him? You have with me.”
Tripp’s frantic nodding is all but sobs now. Knox releases him without ceremony and he crumples to the floor, coughing, broken, like a puppet cut loose.
I can’t breathe. Not from fear, but from want. He followed me and stood up for me when I didn’t ask him to.
My cock is aching from it, but that doesn’t matter. My pledge brothers already don’t respect me, and if they think the President himself has to fight my battles I’m finished.
Even if we both know that little display wasn’t about politics or pledging or the house. It’s about him and me.
Knox doesn’t even glance at Tripp as he walks off, like what happened cost him nothing.
I meet his stare and force myself to give them a show. My lips curl into a sneer they can all believe.
“Respectfully, Sir…” I drag the word out, dripping it in sugar and venom at the same time. “…I had it handled.”
His brow ticks up, unimpressed. “Didn’t look like it.”
“It’s part of pledging. Part of brotherhood. We handle problems head-on so they don’t rot.” My words are clipped. An armor I don’t actually feel. “So while I appreciate the backup I don’t need you swooping in to fix things.”
“That’s what you want?” His voice is barely a whisper, words only for me.
This isn’t the Knox everyone else gets. Not the President with the steady hands and perfect mask. This is the Knox I’ve tasted. The one who stuck to me like smoke, seeping into places I can’t wash clean.
Always the savior, never the storm. He breaks just enough to keep me whole.
I step closer. “They already think my name buys me special treatment. I don’t need them thinking you hand it out because you fucked me once.”
His eyes drop to my lips and then drift back up my face. I don’t flinch under his gaze. Not with half my pledge brothers burning holes in my back.
“Fair play,Finley?” he asks, tilting his head. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
It shouldn’t affect me, but it does. My name curls off his tongue and sends heat crawling up the back of my neck. The sight of the flush in my cheeks lights a spark behind his eyes, something wicked and knowing that flickers long enough for me to see myself in it.
It’s a challenge, sure, but there’s something else there too. Like he’s trying to pass down a truth I haven’t earned yet.
I force the smirk. I have to. We’ve got an audience.
“Fuck me again,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. “Maybe I’ll start believing your protective bullshit actually means something.”
He laughs then turns to the rest of the room with a nod that wipes it all clean.
“As you were, Pledges.”