19

Weston
I’d had several ‘what the fuck’ moments since becoming the cream of the Elite echelon, including the first time I’d killed a man in cold blood because it was required. After that, killing had become easy, a part of the requirements of living the opulent life of one of the Damned. I’d laughed the first time I’d heard other students whisper our name as I’d passed, said as if they’d been issuing a curse.
The truth was, the members of the Elite were untouchable, more so since Clinton had taken charge of the house. Christian and I knew he’d tracked the former Elite President to his parents’ vacation house in Maine, shooting him between the eyes like he would a deer. That was the beginning of our rise to power. It was pointless for administrators to waste their time attempting to crate the animals. They were simply looking forward to the day of our graduation.
While Christian was a scary fuck, his hot temper getting him into bloody situations, I was known as the charmer, someone who could easily get under a person’s skin, destroying them before they had a chance to blink. Then there was Clinton, a man born evil. He enjoyed the act of torture more than anyone else I’d ever known.
However, I hadn’t honestly believed he’d go through with the plan he’d concocted a year and a half ago regarding Ava . He’d been so hell bent on plotting her demise that I was shocked he’d managed to accomplish anything else. This entire night was a ‘what the fuck’ moment that would remain at the top of the list for a long time.
Not that I hadn’t enjoyed the art of seduction with the beautiful woman. She’d stirred something inside of me that I’d thought no longer existed. A single taste of her would never be enough. I ached with need, longing to drive my cock into her tight pussy. What concerned me was his obvious obsession with her. I had no qualms admitting I wanted to capture and keep her, but I had a feeling Clinton would go too far just like he did with everything else.
If her father really was the assassin called The Iceman, then the man wouldn’t take a backseat to the fact that his daughter was missing. As far as I was concerned, taking the word of a traumatized twelve-year-old hellbent on revenge, which was the age he’d been when his brother had been murdered, wasn’t intelligent. However, challenging Clinton had its own issues.
Now we were standing in the middle of a freaking rainstorm since some fucker had set one of the outbuildings on fire just to piss us off. I had a feeling I knew who’d done so to prove a point.
Theodore.
He’d been an issue since the beginning, believing he’d become president of the house because his father had been. Not a chance in hell, the weak piece of shit.
“Fuck. Fuck!” Clinton hissed. “You know it’s that fuckhead.”
Christian stood with his arms crossed as other members of the house used fire extinguishers to augment the slowing rainstorm.
“Find the fucker!” Clinton yelled. As with every order one of the three of us doled out, four of the other members jogged into the night in search of Theo. My guess was that he’d hung around to watch the circus.
“We can’t be sure it’s him,” I suggested, but there was no other logical choice. But at this point, if there weren’t limits placed on Clinton, he’d go off the deep end.
He shot me a hateful look. “You know better, dude. I’m going to hunt that bastard down and handle him the right way. He’s going to bleed.”
He’d raised his voice to the point that the folks remaining outside glanced in our direction, including a few of the girls huddling under the front porch. While our reputation as bastards, monsters, and killers went far beyond the pristine iron gates of the college, up to this point there’d been no evidence left of a single crime. And I certainly hadn’t spent four long years in the establishment to have it yanked out from under me two weeks prior to being freed.
I got in his face, struggling to get his attention. “You need to keep your mouth shut. That asshole isn’t going anywhere. Maybe keep your voice down so no one knows what the hell is going on.”
“And why don’t you shut your trap,” he retorted, getting all the way in my face.
While most of the time I could tolerate his bullshit, tonight wasn’t one of them. I shoved my hands against him, shaking my head.
He grinned but didn’t hesitate, issuing a hard punch, then another.
“Jesus Christ,” Christian snarled. “Why don’t the two of you knock it off.”
I rubbed my jaw, noticing Kennedy had joined the group of girls. It was easy to tell she was searching for her friend. “Yeah, fine. He’s fuckin’ long gone by now. Let’s get back to our night.”
Exhaling, Clinton stood to his full height. Then he issued a hard jab to my gut. That was it. I was finished with dealing with his crap. I lunged my body toward him, bending over and catching him in the chest, the force pitching us both to the ground and into the mud.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” several of the other members cheered.
Both Clinton and I issued several savage punches. This had more to do about Ava than it did anything else. He wanted her all to himself, and that wasn’t going to happen.
No one tried to stop us. They knew better than to get in the middle.
After issuing several additional jabs, I struggled to my feet. The man was fucking deranged as far as I was concerned. Clinton remained where he was as I paced the area.
“You’re an asshole. You know that”?” he asked as he hoisted himself to his feet.
“You both are,” Christian finally piped in.
Before I had a chance to launch into Clinton again, the three other members returned.
“What did you find, Franco?” I asked.
He walked closer, eyeing the girls then turning his back. “Theo’s car is still here.”
“Fuck,” I snarled, unhappy I’d been right. “The fucker wanted a distraction. That’s what the fire was all about.”
“That means he’s still in the estate.” Christian took long strides closer.
“Ava . He’ll do what he can to use her against us,” Clinton hissed. “The party’s over. Get everyone out of here!”
At least he had one decent idea. “Go around the backside to the playroom,” I instructed Christian.
“He can still get into the room,” he explained. “The locks weren’t changed.”
A stupid move on our part and one I had a feeling would cost us.
“Exactly.” I trailed behind Clinton as we entered the house, both of us bounding up the master stairs to the fourth floor. We didn’t need to go to the end of the hallway to discover the door was open. I jogged there anyway, checking the room quickly. “Not here.”
While it was possible that she’d managed to get out of the room, my bets were on Theo’s interference. Whatever he had planned for her was meant to embarrass us or worse.
We couldn’t allow that to happen.
“We need to fucking find him!” Clinton roared, his rage reaching a new level.
“Spread out. Room by room!” I bellowed when I saw Christian.
“Whatever happens, Theo doesn’t leave alive.”
Christian and I glanced at each other as Clinton kicked open one of the doors. Then he lifted his fist in solidarity.
We did the same.
I might not like his tactics or his all-consuming anger, but when a member breached the rules, we came together as a force. When outsiders threatened our wellbeing, we reacted without remorse.
No hesitation.
No regret.
And no conscience.
We were a brotherhood. We’d made an oath to protect the house, the traditions, and other members. As well as the women who served our needs.
No matter what efforts were necessary to do so or the consequences.
Theodore Watkins would pay the price.