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“You look like shit.” There’s no concern there, just the blunt observation.
“Thanks,” he mutters.
Grabbing a mug for myself, I fill it with black coffee, the dark liquid promising a jolt to my system. “Why are you here at this godforsaken hour? Don’t you have your own home to go to?”
“Just got back from North House. There was a party...” He trails off, shaking his head. “Where’s Alistair?”
“Asleep.” The word cuts through the air like a lance. “Like you should be.”
“No can do. Have something to say.”
“Then say it and get your drunk ass out of my house.”
“I’ll wait for Alistair.”
“No, you’ll say it now and leave.” This little shit is pissing me off on a grand level now, and that is never a good thing.
He debates that for a few moments and then takes another sip. “There’s a bet.”
“So what? There’s always a bet.”
“Not like this one. Or at least, the bet isn’t new, but the target? You’re going to lose your shit.”
I freeze, the mug halfway to my lips. “Who?”
“Ever Knight and the prize? Her virginity.”
His words hit me like ice water. A sick, boiling anger starts to simmer inside me.
“Is that so?” My voice is steady, but inside, there’s a fucking hurricane whipping up in the destruction of my soul. Ever doesn’t belong to them. She’s ours.
“Who has the bet?”
“Eric, Robbie and that utter tosser, Stanley.”
“Second-years?” I mutter, but it’s not really a question. “Who the fuck do they think they are?”
“Entitled shitheads, much like everyone around here, but, like, ten times worse.”
I see red. They don’t get to fantasise about her, bet on her, like she’s some prize to be won. They have made a very serious error in picking this target.
“Planning to send a warning?” Alex says, sipping his coffee as he sways from a raucous night of partying and booze.
“Better than that,” I snap. “I’m planning to end them. Permanently.”
Alistair strides into the kitchen, his presence like a shadow falling over us. He catches the tail end of our conversation, the tension coiling in the air like wire.
“End who?” His voice is calm but edged with something sharp, something dangerous. It’s a tone that commands silence and demands respect.
“Ever’s virginity is apparently up for grabs,” I say without turning, staring Alex down, daring him to look away first. “The new bet by the asshole second-years who think they have a right to even breathe the same air as her.”
Alistair’s reaction is immediate when I turnaround to face him. His eyes darken like a stormy sky. “They want to steal what’s not theirs?” There’s a lethal chill to his words, a promise of violence that isn’t just talk. He will fuck up anyone who tries to screw her, and the rest of us won’t be far behind. One of us has to take her virginity - if the rumours are true, and as much as we’d all like to think it’ll be us, we know it’ll be Alistair. He won’t give us a choice, probably not Ever either.
“If they so much as breathe in Ever’s direction, they’re dead,” he hisses, the threat in his voice cutting through the silence of the kitchen. “Damien. We need to push forward. Now.”
“Agreed.” The word comes out like gravel, rough and edged with malice. My mind races with dark plans. “Those bastards think they can claim what’s not theirs,” I spit out, picturing Ever’s delicate face, oblivious to the vultures circling.
“We’re moving up the timetable.”
