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“We’ve been nice enough not to butcher him and his friends on sight after what they did to us. If it were up to me, I would’ve dunked her in myself for having the balls to fall into my lap.”
“Lucky it wasn’t your lap she fell into, then,” Kai says.
My eyes narrow, and I stare him down for a moment. “You … wanted that to happen, didn’t you?”
“Oh, do I hear a twinge of jealousy?” Milo taunts, but I ignore him.
Kai snorts. “Of course not.” He fishes a small metal flask from his pocket and takes a sip. “But I won’t pass up the opportunity to score some points with those fuckers. Keep them from attacking us when we’re weak.”
“Weak?” I snatch the flask from his hand. “Phantoms aren’t weak. Those Skull & Serpent Boys will get what they deserve and you’d better be ready.” I take a big sip and shove it back against his chest. “Now are you on my side or theirs?”
He tilts his head and grins. “Do you really have to ask?”
Milo rubs his hands together. “I can’t fucking wait.”
My eyes land on that girl again. The girl Felix called Lana … His sister. “Maybe she can be our way in to that fucking snake den.”
* * *
Lana
After our firstclasses are over, we eat dinner together and chat about our day. Irina and Brooke are good company, and I can definitely see myself hanging out with them during the coming months. They seem very loyal, and I need that type of friend going to this school as a Rivera. Everyone both reveres our family name and despises it in the same breath.
We’re a family with a lot of power. A dozen brands under my father’s belt like the Rivera clubs make it hard for people to look beyond our wealth and influence. Besides, now that my father is also dean of Spine Ridge University, it makes it really hard for me to walk around anywhere without getting eyeballed from a million different directions.
I’m so glad Irina and Brooke don’t seem the least bit scared of all of that. Too bad they can’t follow me everywhere.
When the night falls, and all the Beta Pi sorority girls are fast asleep, I’m still scrolling on the web, determined to find my next target. The kind of place I want to go to is not one to look for during the day, and especially not on any regular website. This Tor Browser allows me to search through directories, watching, lurking, and waiting for bait.
And when I finally have it, a wicked smile forms on my lips.
I type out the words I know will cause a ripple in the pond and press send.
Now it’s time to move.
I open my closet and take out my bag that I keep for special occasions such as this one. I check if I’ve got all my gear before I sling it over my shoulder and walk to my mirror. I put on the red ribbon and tie it firmly into my hair, along with some red lipstick and the highest laced booty heels I can find in my closet. Then I grab the black kitten mask and tuck it into my bag.
I’m so glad my dad got me a room without any roommates. The privilege of being rich sure comes in handy when you have nefarious plans.
I smile at myself in the mirror before I strut out the door, putting my bag over both shoulders. I head straight out the back door, worried someone might still be awake. My motorcycle is out front, and I jump on and put on my helmet and gloves, and insert my earbuds, then race off into oblivion.
Violent music blasts through the earpieces as I veer left and right across the road and head for the gates that lead off the compound. My mind goes a million miles an hour, and the bike can’t keep up. I need to go faster, harder, louder.
Where I’m going, there are no tears of happiness, no smiles of bliss, not even an inkling of emotion except rage.
Straight into hell’s mouth.
Down, down, down, I go along the mountain and into the bustling city, where white collar business and crime go hand in hand. But I’m not looking for a butt-clenching crook, nor have I hooked a big fish. I’m headed into the outskirts of Crescent Vale City, going for the lowest of the lows. Where pure scum live in houses not even a roach would touch.
I park my motorcycle outside the most repugnant house I’ve ever seen, barely staying upright with crooked wooden beams and taped-off windows. The stench of drugs meets my nostrils halfway across the street.
Taking off my helmet, I fish my kitten mask from my bag and slip it on.
I clutch my bag close to my shoulder as I head into the house without a second thought.
The putrid smell of pot makes me recoil, but I continue through the narrow hallway littered with fast-food packages. In the far back, a loud television blasts, the sounds of squealing women faking orgasms drawing me closer.
In front of the screen is a big red chair covered in stains, inside a man with a potbelly, wearing only a pair of underpants and a shirt that’s too small to cover his body.
