Page 80 of The Unravelings

“God, stab me in the eyes with forks,” I groan, covering my eyes and peeking through my fingers.

Hux actually snorts at me. Proof that I’m the life of the party and fucking fun.

“Gladly,” he murmurs. “Then it’s my turn.” His head slightly turns from the gross display of affection on stage.

“Oh, fun! A stabbing circle jerk. I’ll add it to my calendar,” I joke, wiggling my brows.

“Gross,” JJ snorts with amusement, a smile pulling at the edge of his lips.

See? I’m fucking fun. They should let me drink more so I can show them how truly amazing I am.

“Thank you for that warm welcome, Amber!” Franco’s fake enthusiasm leaks through the speakers. He’s so obvious, I’m surprised the entire room doesn’t see it. But nah. All they see is the person who runs this town and can get them rich.

All I see is my prison warden with a fake smile and endearment.

“As you can see, we at Greenwood are the best of the best. Academic excellence at work! Of course, you knew that when your children accepted their enrollment and came to our fine establishment.” Chuckles reverberate through the amused crowd. “Now, onto why we’re here. These men have worked hard side by side with my sons to take their place in our home.” He gestures to his left as six of our recruits walk onto the stage in suits and confident smiles on their faces. Sorry fuckers. We’ve put them through the wringer, being our little initiates.

That was nothing. Now, they’ll face the real world of the Syndicate. Guns. Death. Blood. Casino games. Enemies. It’s all there. They were too stupid to see it, though. They all are. Blinded by the mansions, cars, and expensive lifestyle.

They’ll learn. They always do. But then it’s too late to run away. They’re in this for good. Now, they’ll get a real taste of what they’re up against after tonight, when this pony show of initiation is over. And if they want to leave? Well, too damn bad. They had their choice at the beginning of initiations and didn’t take it. They’re signing their souls away to the devil tonight, and the only way they’ll see freedom is if they take their last breath and get buried in the graveyard.

“These men have faced the fire of initiation and made it through to the other side. I’m pleased to name them as the newest members of the Franco Syndicate. Welcome to the clubhouse, boys.” Franco claps his hands, encouraging the crowd to cheer for them as well.

They whoop and holler, cheering the boys on as they shake Franco’s hand one by one, with proud grins adorning their faces.

Whoopty fucking doo.

They’ve made it now. Been through hell and came out on the winning side.

I’m not bitter. Not at all.

That’s a lie.

“Oh, yay. More people to help make runs,” I grumble. “You think Franco will start handing out jobs to them soon?”

“No,” Huxley grumbles. “He’ll make us train them more now. You know how this goes. They’re basically our trainees living in our damn frat house.” He shakes his head. “I fucking hate this part.”

Facts. It’s the worst part of all this. We’re in charge of our little minions, making sure they don’t stray from the pack and betray us to the Shades or the many other Mafia families on campus. Add this to the list of endless shit I have to do on campus. Between classes and water polo, I’m a fucking zombie by the time it comes to training these assholes.

“Let the fun games begin.” Not.

My eyes roll toward the ceiling as Franco drones on, introducing the little mice to the crowd we invited into our trap.

Now, they’re stuck forever. Like us.

This is the worst part. We were meant to leave this shit hole and Franco behind. Change our names. New location. Far away from this nightmare, with our girl under our arm and smiles on our faces.

Ahhh, that was the fucking dream.

Too bad that dream died in a fiery night of bullshit, taking her and our plans away. Up in smoke. Down in ashes.

Fuck, I really need another drink.

We’re stuck like glue, and now, we have these little ducklings to follow us around and report back to Franco if we do something naughty.

Can’t a guy catch a break?

“What?” Huxley hisses, jaw tight and muscles tensing relentlessly.