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I won’t give up.
I won’t fucking stop.
Not now … not ever.
Not until I’ve chased him to the ends of the earth.
Felix
I throw a knife at a dude punching away at one of my pledges, and it knocks him to the ground.
“Thanks,” the pledge mumbles.
“Consider this your hazing,” I reply, and he nods with a smirk before he continues fighting off the men who are pouring in from two sides. It’s a relentless assault, and it doesn’t seem to be coordinated at all. Almost as if someone other than her father is also sending people to attack us.
My eyes land on Penelope, who’s fighting off some dudes near the side entrance, thrusting her knives into their throats. Smoke bombs fill the area, clouding everything, and she runs, coughing her lungs out.
More men swarm in from the front, but I still make the choice to rush to Penelope’s aid instead, cutting my way through people like they’re made of butter.
“Pen!” I grasp her hand and pull her to me.
“Dylan,” she says between heavy breaths. “He’s gone.”
“What do you mean gone?” I ask.
“They smashed his head in,” she says. “I looked everywhere, but I can’t find him.”
Fuck. Did they take him somewhere to kill him in cold blood?
I turn around for a moment to pull one of my knives from the flesh of one of these fuckers, ready to chase after whoever took Dylan. Because I don’t leave any of my boys behind.
CLICK!
I pause.
“Don’t move.”
As my eyes rise to meet the face of the man in the trench coat, his gun is pointed right at me.
His jaw barely unclenches when he speaks. “Give me my fucking daughter.”
I push Penelope behind me, despite the fact that he could pull the trigger at any moment. I refuse to move. I don’t care who he is. No one points a gun at my girl.
BANG!
A shot enters my shoulder, and I grind my teeth together in pain.
“Move,” he growls. “Next shot will enter your brain.”
Instinct makes me flick my knife open, and I push the tip against his belly.
“Do it then. Cut me if you dare,” the guy taunts.
And it takes every fucking ounce of self-control not to because I can feel the bullet moving in my muscles.
But he’s her father.
And I’ve already hurt her enough.
“After all the fucking shit you did to my daughters … You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” the guy grits, pushing the metal farther into my forehead. “But your reign of terror over this fucking campus ends today.”
Suddenly, Penelope lunges out from behind me and grabs her father’s wrist.
BANG!
The gun goes off, a bullet burying itself into the wall behind me. My skin sizzles from the shot grazing past my cheek as I jerk away from the pungent smell of burnt steel. A drop of warm blood rolls down my face, and I pick it up with my index finger.
“Stop,” Penelope says, and her voice echoes through the halls.
Her father immediately grabs her arm and tugs at her. “Come.”
“Dad, wait,” she says, and she jerks free from his grip. “He’s not the enemy.”
“Like hell he isn’t,” her father grits. “He’s the one responsible for my daughter’s death together with that Caruso family.” The gun clicks again, ready to fire.
She grabs his arm and forces it to lower. “Eve was pregnant.”
His eyes widen and immediately home in on me again. “Yours?”
“We don’t know,” I reply.
His nostrils flare. “We?”
“It’s … complicated.”
“Eve was in a relationship with Felix, Dylan, and Alistair,” Penelope explains. “They didn’t kill her.”
“A relationship?” he parrots, looking leery.
“It’s true,” I say.
“Yet she never once thought of dying until she met you.”
My face tightens as I stare into the barrel of his gun, unafraid. “And I take full responsibility.”
Penelope clutches her father’s face, forcing him to look at her. “Eve jumped because the dean made her choose between leaving campus and keeping the baby.”
His fingers twist around the trigger, lips twitching.
“That is the Caruso I was talking about,” she says, still holding his gaze. “Not Dylan.”
“But this asshole—”
“Is not the person you want to kill,” she says.
His jaw clenches, and he looks around for a second before lowering his gun. With two fingers in his mouth, he makes a distinct, unique whistle, and the gunfire and knife throwing suddenly cease.
“Retreat,” he calls, and his men stop fighting and walk back to the front entrance.
The frat boys get up on their feet again and brush off their clothes, but they remain vigilant and on edge. No fucking wonder, with these shoot-crazy mobsters coming in to swoop Penelope out of my arms.
Her dad almost killed me for it.
And I would’ve died if it wasn’t for her intervention.
BANG!
Shots are fired from the side entrance, and all three of us duck for cover behind a pillar.
“More buddies of yours?” I ask.
“No, my men listen to my call,” her father retorts. “These are rogues.”
