Page 18 of Terror Tuesday

“Being president doesn’t allow you to just waltz inside,” I say, shutting the door behind him, re-checking the locks, then yanking off my mask.

“No, but being your only friend does.” His lumbering body takes up space on my gaming chair, and I wave my hand at him to move. With a roll of his eyes, he shifts to the club chair in the corner, tossing his arms over the sides.

I minimize the screens I’d been scanning, starting with the president’s house. Then,Omega…I’ve been watching too long—her, mostly. Every blink, every breath. Before my best friend can get a peek at anything, I bring up some classwork andCall of Dutyon the main monitor.

There was a time I was good at headshots. Fast. Focused. Strategic.

Now? I’ve upgraded my internals.

She’s the only game that matters.

“Are you coming to the meeting tonight?” he asks, picking some lint off his gray slacks.

“Do I have to?”

“It’s the Terror Tuesday one, so yeah. You have to participate.”

My neck muscles tighten. I never wanted to become part of this, but as West Tech’s heir, joining a Greek House at Northview University was expected. I decided to make the most of it… Play a game of espionage, subterfuge, and revenge.

“I do enough for the family,” I tell him with an arched eyebrow.

He’s quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. The way we got him to where he is. The hacking I do to keep theDeltassafe.

Finally, we catch eyes. “Yeah, I know you do.”

Placing his elbows on his knees, he leans forward, while I pretend to focus on the paper due tomorrow. Not that I’m writing it. The code runs, scrapes, and stitches together citations while I track camera feeds.

He clears his throat. “The chop went smoothly. Lynx didn’t kill anyone we didn’t plan for. That’s a win. Thanks for keeping him in line. Your brother’s interested in joining them next time.”

I snap my gaze to his. “The fuck? Nerd doesn’t know how to drive, let alone how to shoot. Nah, leave him out of that shit. He’s got clean hands. Let’s keep it that way.”

Another knock, and I jolt. Apollo chuckles low and long.

“What?” I grit out, grabbing my mask, but his hand snags it before I can.

“You. Fucking paranoid. Never smoke weed, my friend.”

Oz yells, “It’s just me!”

With a sigh, I unlock the door and wave him in, then lock it once more.

“Fuck, this is the most people you’ve had in your room,” Oz says, tongue toying with the piercings on his lip.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” My tone is a loaded gun. They ignore it. Oz flops back dramatically on my bed like it’s his.

“Are you going to join Vander, Valor, and me in theCall of Dutytourney coming up, or skip out again?” Oz arches an eyebrow at me, but already knows the answer.

I used to lose hours in those lobbies with Oz and my brothers. Tension in my fingers, headset tight, the rest of the world tuned out. But now, I don’t need simulations. I’ve got a live target.

“I’m busy?—”

“Busy…” he interrupts. “You haven’t been playing much. Not since the start of the semester. Does a certain hobby have anything to do with it?” He scans my monitors, and I flinch, then make sure my camera feeds are still minimized.

Apollo shoots me a glance, unreadable but sharp. He knows. They both probably do. But neither of them will say it out loud unless I crack first.

The truth? I’ve been obsessed. Spending too many nights tracing her movements, gathering intel, confirming theories. Maybe I snapped too early with Hunter—but after years of watching her from afar, I couldn’t wait any longer. Not with her on the verge of being handed off like a prize to someone like him.

That tiny sorority bedroom. Her scent. The heat of her skin so close… It all broke something in me. Shattered the last restraint I had.