Page 12 of Terror Tuesday

“Fuck you, Lex. You got the last one!”

With a sigh, I reach in, pull the keys out, and toss them to Lex. “He’ll drive. You can’t take corners the way he can.”

Lex’s smirk is demented. He’s a crazy motherfucker. I’m not scared of anything, but I don’t want to piss him off. It’d be like trying to reason with a tiger mid-feast—stupid, suicidal, and bound to end in blood.

Beckham slumps, then gets out and slides into Remington’s Porsche on the other side, while Lex takes position behind the wheel.

“Straight to the shop,” I instruct them. “No passing Go. No joy rides. We can’t let anyone see this out and about tonight.”

Lex caresses the leather on the wheel. “Got it. Just a clean chop and pieces sold off, so no one suspects you just took out the president and secretary ofBetawhile framing the president ofOmega,who happens to be the president ofTheta’ssister.” Those crystal eyes lift to mine, lips spreading into something feral. His grin is all teeth and lunacy. “Want to go for another threat and take out someSigmasorIotastonight?” Grabbing his crotch, he readjusts himself at the thought.

“Focus, initiate. Get the job done as instructed without straying off to do your own thing. Locke, you’re in charge of making sure Lynx doesn’t do something too stupid.” As a senior member ofDelta, they have to follow my orders. Even if I’m not an officer.

Beckham’s jaw drops, as if to protest, and I know he’s thinking no one can control Lex. He’s right. But at least that’ll give us someone to blame if tonight’s clean-up doesn’t go well.

Lex raises the window, and I step back, tossing my laptop into my bag and hoisting it over my arms. When he peels out of the driveway of Sanguine House, the abandoned old manor thatBetauses for the Greek Games, my jaw tenses.Audacious madcap. He’s probably hunting for bodies to put bullets in tonight.

The rain sheets down in spitting drizzles, and I bend to tie my bootlace. Skirting through the thickets near the stone walls that frame the abandoned mansion, I make my way to the back of Delta house’s garage on the next lot over.

As I enter, the buzz of the electric door opens with a hum, drowned out by the loud roar of my motorcycle’s engine along with another beside it.

My youngest brother, Vander, freshman initiate of Delta rips off my helmet and shakes out his red hair, just as my cousin, Oz, steps off his Harley parked next to him.

“Got it here in one piece. Good job,” I tell my brother as he turns off the engine.

Oz gives me a coy grin, then slaps my shoulder. “You’ve missed the last threeCall of Dutycampaigns. Van keeps getting sniped.”

Vander grins from under his damp curls. “I still got you out, didn’t I?”

“You got me killed,” Oz mutters, digging in his pocket as his phone vibrates. “Next time, don’t stop to loot bodies. Justsaying. I gotta take this… Another day, another luscious dick waiting for me.” His eyebrows raise lasciviously as he dances toward the house.

Vander flashes me a look as I check over the bike carefully. If he scratched it? He’s getting every mark back on his skin. “You good? You’ve been ghosting hard lately.”

“Working,” I tell him simply.

He kicks at the concrete like he’s got more to say.

“What?”

“I ran into Mrs. Meyerson earlier this evening.”

My stomach knots as I try to regulate my breathing. Steady. I grunt an acknowledgement.

“You ever think about Abby?” he asks, voice quieter. “Valencia’s friend. The one who liked our money more than you?”

Vander was too young to remember how hung up on her I was. How she led me on. Until my sister confessed she’d overheard her discussing our family’s wealth.

And what a “gross dork” she thought I was. Yeah, I had thick glasses and wiry braces. Probably talked way too much about paladin builds forWorld of Warcraft. But she convinced me she was into it.

Abby Meyerson, the cool girl from a society family, was determined to get me to fall for her. For Prada. Or Gucci.

After Valencia told on her, I wised up to the facts.

People are users. Only want something in exchange for their own gains.

“No, I don’t think about Abby. Why?”

He shrugs, wandering closer to the door to close it. “I remember when you found out what a bitch she really was. You didn’t talk for, like, three weeks. Just…shut down. Then she got murdered.”