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"Exactly," Robbie spits. "If he’d gotten into office, he would have pushed his socialist agenda, and all the privileges you’ve come to take for granted would have been snatched away."
“What about Hawk and Nocturnal Enterprises?" I argue. "They’re getting slaughtered in the news."
Robbie waves his hand, uncaring. "A little bad publicity won’t ruin them. It’s all unsubstantiated accusations and hearsay. When the police do their due diligence, they’ll discover that your friend’s company had nothing to do with Compton’s death, and their names will be cleared. A small price to pay to maintain the status quo."
I frown down at him, feeling like I’m really seeing him for the first time. What sort of person is he that he’ll risk another’s reputation, all for the sake of what? Ensuring the rich remain rich and the poor stay poor?
“Speaking of the King’s Elite,” he sighs. “I understand you’ll be given your first job at tonight’s meeting.”
I didn’t even know there was a fucking meeting.
"I don’t care about them," I snarl. "Or their capitalist agenda."
See, I know politics.
Arching an uncanny eyebrow. “You took a vow, Wilder. You can’t simply walk away from this. Not to mention, Grandfather won’t stand for it.”
"I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t give a shit what he wants either," I state, sounding defeated as I drop into the chair opposite him. "I saw that ring on his finger. Was he in that chamber that night? Hell, perhaps he’s the gold-cloaked asshole who made me swallow his blood." Yeah, I’m still pissy about that. "And what about the rest of my so-called family?"
Robbie sighs in exasperation. "Don’t be ridiculous, Wilder. I already told you that being a member of the King’s Elite is part of our family’s legacy. We’re all members. Even your father. While Grandfather likes to be kept informed, he is no longer an active member of the organization. That ring you saw is a proud symbol of his many years of hard work and dedication to the society. As for the rest of the family, I understand Grandfather invited you to dinner on Sunday. Come, and you can find out for yourself."
With more questions than answers, and my beginning to feel like I’m trapped in a corner when it comes to this stupid fucking society and this family of mine that I don’t know—honestly, I’m not entirely convinced I really want to know any longer—I leave Robbie to it.
Needing to clear my head and avoid the humdrum of campus now that it’s mid-afternoon and likely flooded with students, I take the long way back to the frat house.
It’s not a path I take often; I'm not usually a fan of the quiet andbeing one with naturecrap, but with my head a fucking mess and my life falling apart, I need the time to think. Don’t know where the fuck I’m at. I’ve betrayed my best friend and the only fucking family who has ever accepted me—psychotic personality and all. Don’t know what the fuck I’ve gotten myself mixed up in with this society and my family, and I’m as confused as ever regarding Emilia.
I genuinely thought I’d turned a corner when it came to her until that stupid fucking news article. Now she’s furious with me. I should probably apologize, but really, I’m not sure that’s the best thing. She should hate me. She should stay as far away from me as fucking possible, because I’ll only destroy her in the end. It’s all I’m good at. I’ll suck out every good part of her until nothing exists but the dim light in her eye where happiness once shone.
Too busy muttering to myself as I stomp along the leaf-laden path, I don’t hear someone sneak up on me until I feel the cool glide of a needle as it sinks beneath my skin, something cold flooding my system before everything spins.
A bird flies overhead, its black form standing out against the pale blue sky like a beacon, drawing my attention. It takes too long for me to associate the clear view I have of the sky with the sharp stones digging into my spine. Only when a face appears above me, sporting a victorious grin, do I realize I’m flat on my back.
"What the fuck did you do to me, you crazy psycho," I yell, or at least, I try. The words come out as an unintelligible slur, thanks to whatever shit is pumping through my veins.
"Oh, how I have been waiting for this day," a triumphant Mel taunts. "You should never have touched what’s mine. Now you’re about to suffer the consequences."
My eyes close as I succumb to unconsciousness. With the last of my remaining strength, I push out, "Mine."
Chapter21
MEL
Sweat is dripping from my every pore by the time I reach the entrance to the bunker. For a lanky fucker he sure is heavy. Dropping him unceremoniously on the ground, I stretch out the kinks in my back, using my forearm to wipe the sweat from my forehead.
Shaking my arms out, I bend down and pull open the trap door that leads down to the bunker. It’s not the best hiding spot, although I hadn’t exactly planned for this, so it will have to do. After watching him fucking assault my girl in the library, I knew I couldn’t let him get away with that. No one touches what’s mine.
I was coming for him anyway; his actions today simply accelerated the timeline.
It was challenging enough not to kill him after watching him fuck my girl on the cameras. If it weren’t for the fact that it would have freaked Emilia out and made it that much harder to get to her, then I’d have gutted him a long time ago.
But Emilia’s in love withmenow. She doesn’t care about him, and she sure as fuck doesn’t want him touching her. I didn’t need to see the way she attacked him to know that. So now it’s my turn to have some fun.
I’m jittery with excitement at the thought of his warm blood spilling over my hands as I rip out his intestines. Maybe I’ll twist them into balloon animals before he passes out.
Faced with the steep stairs leading down into the bunker, I sigh. Yeah, there’s no fucking way I’m carrying the sack of potatoes down there. I’m likely to twist an ankle and end up hurting myself.
Dragging him by the arm to the open door, I shove him down the steps, watching in glee as he bounces down each one. Once he is lying in a crumpled heap on the concrete floor, I close the trapdoor behind me and descend the stairs, stepping over his prone form.
