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Pushing aside any lingering guilt, I slide open the tab and pull out the thick, expensive-feeling cardstock. My gaze lingers on the embossed emblem at the top—a snake coiled around a crown. There’s something empowering yet deadly about the striking image. Or perhaps I’m simply picking up on the symbolism of the snake and crown.
Power and death.
Not ominous at all.
Dismissing it, I slide my gaze down to read the actual message.
Midnight.Kappa Epsilon Library.
I roll my eyes.Are these letters capable of saying anything different? They’re going to lose their sinister vibe if they don’t start switching up the text.
I spend the rest of the class mulling over what’s going to happen tonight, not listening to a word the lecturer says. Who needs ethics anyway? Every time he poses an ethical dilemma, I always choose the opposite response to everyone else. I’m clearly not cut out for making ethically sound decisions. Not that I needed to take a class to learn that. That’s a lesson I learned long ago.
I’ve come to accept that I’m a morally gray person. Learned to embrace it even. Knowing you’re not confined to the same social boundaries as others is freeing. You’re unburdened, knowing you don’t have to make the socially acceptable choice in any given situation. You’ll just do whatever the fuck you want and screw everyone else.
Half of the idiots in this class are too busy looking around them to see what choice their classmates will agree with so that they can choose the same one. Meanwhile, I’m picking whatever option will be best for me and mine.
Besides, what sort of ethical dilemma is it when posed with the option of killing your hospitalized father before midnight to get his health insurance, or letting him live but still having to deal with your family’s financial difficulties?
Obviously, you kill Daddy Dearest.
It’s a no-brainer. Dad’s an asshole who never gave a shit about you anyway. Why the fuck wouldn’t you kill him? Hell, I’d kill him even without the monetary incentive. I’d do it just for shits and giggles.
Weirdly, though, I was the only one with that opinion, and the rest of the class looked at me like I was an axe-murdering maniac coming to slaughter them all.
Bunch of fucking sheep.
The only reason I’m in this class is because I closed my eyes and blindly selected what ones I’d take this year. I really couldn’t give a fuck so long as I passed them. I was genuinely only here for the girls and parties and because of Hadley, Hawk, and the guys. College itself was never my game plan.
Something my guidance counselor seems to have a hard time wrapping her head around. I seriously thought her brain was going to explode when I refused to pick a major. She went on and on about how that wasn’t done and that I wouldn’t get a job after college if I didn’t declare a major.
Like I give a fuck.
The scrape of chairs as students get to their feet signifies the end of class and jolts me out of my reverie. I push back my chair and grab my backpack, shoving the envelope into the outer pocket before exiting the classroom.
Walking across campus, I let myself into the admin building located in what was originally the main house before the property was converted into a university. Making my way through the building until I reach Robbie’s room, I knock on the door and push it open when he calls out.
He lifts his head when I enter. “Hey.”
“What’s tonight?” I ask, getting straight to the point as I drop into one of the chairs opposite his desk.
He rolls his eyes at my poor manners. “You know, I’m really loving this aggrieved version of you. What the hell happened recently that has pissed you off so much.” He arches a brow. “Is it about a girl?”
My eyes narrow in warning before I glance away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m the same as I always have been.”
Robbie snorts, shaking his head as he leans back in his chair. “You were always brusque, but you’ve been particularly crabby this semester. Something tells me it’s not the increased workload that’s getting to you.”
Pursing my lips, I change the topic and repeat, “What’s tonight?”
He watches me for a second before steepling his fingers and resting his forearms on his desk. “The inauguration.”
I just stare blankly at him. “I don’t know what that means.”
“You passed your tasks,” he says with a shrug. “Tonight, you’ll officially become a King’s Elite.”
It still means nothing to me.
What the fuck does it actually mean to be aKing’s Elite?Why would I want to be one? What’s the incentive? Excellent social standing and the entitlement of thinking you’re better than everyone else? In that case, sign me right up (cue sarcastic eye roll).
