Page 79 of Mr. Match

He leans against the server cabinet and scratches his chin. “They’re blackmailing you pretty hard,” he says.

“They are, Pax. Only they’re not blackmailing me with some stupid threat to go to the cops. I made that up to try to explain away my involvement with the Misters. I didn’t really connect the dots that this was the origin of all our trouble until today. I had suspicions, but that’s all they were. Now I have proof. They own this site, OK? Hook-Me-Up on the clear web is ours. But Hook-Me-Up on the dark web belongs to them.”

“Who is them?” Pax asks.

“My guess would be as good as yours, Paxton. I have a few good ones, but I don’t know anything for sure. Other than who it isn’t. But none of this is the important part. None of this is why I’m showing you all this now. Every year since this site popped up on our server, they’ve added to it, Paxton. The first year, that night that girl accused us of rape, they added the drug marketplace. The second year it was pirate shit. Music, books, term papers. The third year it was assassins.” I scroll down the main page so he can see all the different marketplaces. “Ten in all, one for each year. A little reminder on the anniversary to keep me in line. To keep the threat fresh.”

He zeroes in on the worst of them. Which isn’t the hitmen. And then he gets a disgusted look on his face. “What the fuck are you doing, Shrike?”

“I’m not doing this, Pax. You, of all people, have to know I’m not doing this. I have no control over this site. I get no money from it.”

“But you host it.”

“I host it, yeah. Because they make me. They have everything tied into me, my sisters, my parents.”

“That’s why you covered for Allen that night.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t understand anything back then. I had no clue that eleven years later I’d still be dealing with this shit. That every year it would get worse. Darker. Sicker. If I knew this would be my life, Pax, I’d have taken my chances with the rape charge.”

We both look up at the ceiling. Footsteps creaking the old floorboards.

“That’s West,” Pax says.

“Yeah. But I don’t want to show him this yet. We just had an anniversary, right? It’s eleven years now. But we still only have ten categories in the marketplace.”

I don’t need to spell it out for Pax. He gets it immediately. “They have a surprise coming, don’t they?”

I nod. “They set us up again. I’m not sure how, but they did. And brother, we are going down this time. They are planning something that will take us all out at once, and probably tie it all back to the rape charge eleven years ago.”

Pax walks to the other side of the room. Stops, turns back. Paces towards me and then turns again. This goes on for a few more laps and then he looks me in the eyes. “Fuck that,” he says.

“Fuck that,” I agree.

“I’m done with this life. I say we put it all on the line right now. We tie this shit up with a bow or we go down trying.”

“What do you have mind?” I ask, so fucking thankful I can finally get his opinion on all this.

He smiles. But it’s not a Paxton Vance smile.

It’s a Mr. Mysterious smile.

“I’m gonna kill Mr. Corporate and Liam fucking Henry is gonna tell me everything.”

Chapter Thirty-Four - KATYA

The house is not big. Lily wasn’t lying. It’s small, ultra-modern, and looks brand new. It sits on a lot right across the street from the west end of the CSU campus, and it’s sandwiched in between a Greek fraternity on one side and Greek sorority with a for-sale sign in the yard, on the other.

As if that wasn’t enough to make my stomach twist with apprehension, there is a metal sign over the front door engraved with the words The Antimony Association.

So… not a house. Right.

“Lily,” I say with as much patience as I can muster up. “Tell me again who these people are?”

“Oh, there’s Lauren!” Lily exclaims. Completely ignoring me. Lauren is greeting a group of young men and women on the concrete slab outside the open front door that must be the new version of a porch. All of them are dressed up like they are going to a board meeting instead of a science-nerd college brunch, and they all look decidedly upper-class, despite Lauren’s insistence to the contrary yesterday morning. “Lauren!” Lily calls. She runs up to her—leaving me to traverse the front walkway alone—and gives her an excited hug.

“There you are!” Lauren says, looking down on Lily with a benevolent smile. Like she’s some kind of queen. And then Lauren meets my curious gaze. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“Hi, Lauren,” I say. “This is a very nice house. Is it yours?”