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That video, the one featuring the actual Olivia Pratt in a starring role.
“What is this?” I ask.
“The inner sanctum,” Brady growls before letting out a mocking laugh. “It’s just a room for Havoc business, only seniors allowed. The door is locked to keep it from being trashed like the rest of this place. Guys always act like the house doesn’t need to stay standing after they graduate.”
But this feels like more than just a room.
It feels like a place where bad things are supposed to happen.
“Impressive.” I swing the key on my finger, pretending to be interested. “And why are we here?”
“Because we have business.” He closes the door and moves past me to a set of chairs in the far corner. “Have a seat.”
I drop into the chair next to him because I don’t have a choice. “What’s up, Brady?”
“You know the alumni were worried about you,” he says conversationally, as he sets his drink on the table. “It got to the point where they were seriously reconsidering whether you were fit to be a member of Havoc House at all, much less president.”
My jaw clenches tight even as I try not to betray any reaction. “And now?”
“Now, that’s all behind us. You’ve proven whose side you’re really on. Good choice by the way.” Brady leans back in the chair and regards me with focused intent. “That Pratt bitch won’t bother anyone again.”
I wanted to punch Brady in the face when I first saw him. Now I’m not sure I’d be happy with anything short of wrapping my hands around his neck and squeezing until his eyes pop out of their sockets.
“Public humiliation is effective,” I agree. “But you can’t be absolutely sure that she won’t come back.”
Brady’s smile widens. “Oh, I’m sure.”
Despite the smile on his face, the look in his eyes is cold enough to freeze.
He fucking did it.
And I’m supposed to let him get away with it.
Brady gets up and moves to a low bookshelf along the wall. The books neatly lined up on it are all leather-bound and old, but none of them have any titles or author names printed on the spines. They look like if you pull the right one, a hidden passage will be revealed.
He pulls out the book on the furthest end. I’m more than a little disappointed when the whole shelf doesn’t swing out like something out of a movie.
“These are the ledgers.”
I take the heavy book when he offers it to me and it naturally falls open to reveal rows and rows of names writing in cramped script. “The ledgers?”
“Every member of Havoc House has their name in one of these books. I’ll be the one to write all your names in that one, assuming you earn the right before the year is over.”
The book feels even heavier as I flip through the pages. I recognize many of the names, although some are so faded, they’re practically illegible. “You make that sound like a question.”
“Nothing is ever guaranteed, even the Initiation. I hope you’re not walking around with the idea that this is all just a game.” Brady does a slow circle around a long table at the center of the room. The wood is shiny without a speck of dust. “Havoc House can make all your dreams come true. In return, you live and die for it.”
The word die hangs in the air between us like something physical.
I flip another page in the ledger, even though I hadn’t caught a single name on the previous one. All I can think about is how much I want to hurt this asshole. “Let’s hope that last one won’t be necessary.”
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. It’s up to you to make sure your Havoc brothers are ready, Mr. President. You need to make sure that everyone has a copy of the Havoc House bylaws because it’s expected you will all have them memorized.”
I got a photocopy of the Havoc House bylaws instead of a present for my thirteenth birthday. My father wanted to make sure I had every edge when I finally arrived at St. Bart’s. His efforts came in useful when presidential nominations came around and I’d been currying favor with the right people since my freshman year.
Havoc House has never been an actual democracy, but they like to play pretend at it.
My father came right out and told me when I was young that he would cut me off if I failed to meet up to his expectations. I have no use for a son that isn’t worthy of my name, he would always say. As if I was supposed to know what the fuck it means to be worthy. And he made damn sure that I’ve seen every facet of the life I’d be giving up without his support.
