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“Syn, no one thinks they’re more important than you, Royal, or Gemini,” Alice says.
“And yet it wasn’t one of us that called this meeting.”
Alice shifts uncomfortably, lowering her head.
“I did,” Eddie says, our Sergeant-at-Arms. If there was ever a figurehead position, it’s his. Only, it seems he’s not aware of it. “And I did so because there are a lot of unhappy members of the Elite.”
Syn stares coldly at the dark-haired guy but doesn’t say anything.
Oblivious, Eddie ploughs on. “Here’s the thing. You spent weeks telling everyone that Victoria Anderson—Reynolds—whoever… that by the time you were done with her, she’d be leaving here…” Eddie frowns. “Okay, you didn’t say it outright, but you implied it would be in a body bag. Then, out of nowhere, she’s an initiate—which wasn’t even discussed with the rest of the exec.”
“I mean, we understand that she’s now bound to a contract and NDA,” Alice hurriedly adds.
“Yes, we get that.” Eddie rolls his eyes. “But you have her living in this house. And while you might have been distracted by that girl at the beginning of the year, it was us who kept the hazing going on our initiates—”
“Hazing is illegal,” Syn says. “Watch your words, or I will have you charged with defamation.”
If Eddie knows what’s best for him, he needs to shut up now.
Of course, he doesn’t.
“Initiation challenges,” he says. “The point is, this year’s initiation continued as it should. Until she came along. And now we’re told to treat her like she’s one of us, instead of the initiate she is? And what hazing has she suffered in the last two, nearly three, weeks? Served you at meals? Whoop-dee-doo. You said she had the same responsibilities, and yet this house is…” Eddie runs his finger over the tabletop and holds it up. “Filthy. Worse, she’s walking around this campus with a smile on her face.”
Syn settles his hands on the table in front of him, clasping them together.
Beside me, Gemini exhales softly, but I can hear his words. “You’re done.”
No one else seems to have heard him.
“And is there anything else you would like to get off your chest?”
Although Syn’s body is relaxed and there’s only a hint of concern in his voice, looking at Syn right now is like looking at an angler fish. In the dark depths of the ocean, they attract their prey with a glowing light, the rest of their bodies hidden. That’s Syn. Luring Eddie and the others to take the bait.
“Initiates are here to service us, as well as you,” Eddie blindly continues.
Done is probably an understatement.
“Eddie, I’d leave it there,” Rylan, another member of the exec, mutters at him.
“If you were at least being seen to be hazing her properly, and if she walked around the campus looking completely broken like you promised, that would be one thing. Instead, it’s coming across as favoritism, and the whole of the Elite is upset about it. You need to do something before you’re facing a coup.”
Done is definitely an understatement. I’ll be surprised if there’s a body left to identify.
Syn says nothing, instead, stares at Eddie with an eerie expression on his face. He looks like one of those weird dolls with a painted-on smile. Although, if I was going to compare him to any doll, it would be Jigsaw.
The exec sits in silence, waiting for Syn’s response. But he keeps quiet until all of them are squirming.
Finally, Eddie let’s out an irritated sigh. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Taking a deep breath, Syn leans forward, placing his hands on the table before he pushes and gets to his feet. With his palms still on the dark wood, he narrows his eyes at Eddie. “Coups are not organized by the masses. They’re organized by individuals. People who get power-hungry and think they know best. In this case, you.”
Eddie pales.
“I always knew you had as many brain cells as a jellyfish. Seargent-at-Arms means that you are in charge of discipline within the Elite, so if there was even a whisper of a coup, you should be ensuring that doesn’t happen.” Syn straightens, although the ice doesn’t leave his glare. “However, I don’t believe those whispers came from anywhere other than someone in this room.”
“You’re deflecting.” Something feral flashes through Alice’s eyes, but it’s like seeing a kitten try to square off against a street dog.
Syn smiles. “And here’s our puppeteer.” Folding his arms, the smile turns into a sneer of disgust. “You disappoint me, Finchlin. Lumley’s blowjobs are subpar at best.”
