I doubt the anniversary of her death has gotten any easier for him. He told me once that he feels like he failed Juliette. I wince inwardly because that’s a lot for one person to handle, to take on responsibility for another person’s death. I can’t imagine.
I wave at them both before dropping my duffel bag on one of the stools and grabbing a water from the fridge. While chugging down half the bottle, I subtly attempt to assess Kingston’s state of mind, then shift my gaze to check in with Archer. He shakes his head ever so slightly, his expression pinched.
Hmm.The rigid way Kingston’s holding his body gives me the idea that something is up. I tip the water to my lips again, finishing it.
“How was the workout?” Archer’s brow lifts as his eyes scan my face.
I’ve had to remind myself all day to stop grinding my teeth and unlock my jaw. I both shrug and give a small nod, then gesture toward the patio doors. I can only assume that whatever is going on is not a discussion we should be having within earshot of… well, anyone at all.
Kingston bites his lip, glancing over his shoulder. “Agreed. We have things to discuss—both last night’s events and a couple new developments—that no one else needs to hear.”
Oh, great.I’m anxious to know what the hell’s been going on, but don’t like the edge of anger in his voice, or the way he squares his shoulders when he stands. My gaze falls to Archer, shooting him a briefWhat the hell is going on?look.
His steel-colored eyes lock on mine for a moment before they drift to Kingston’s retreating back. “I don’t know, man. I guess we’re about to find out. Come on.” He scoots off the barstool with a resigned shrug before he follows Kingston across the expansive living area and out the door to the back patio.
The last time we were out here was the day we gave Elliot a rundown on the rules she’d be abiding by while she undergoes the initiation process. It seems like forever ago, but it’s been a little over a week. Funny how a person can take up residence in our home—and our thoughts—so quickly. Hell, thoughts of her have been all-consuming for me since I fucking laid eyes on her. But now the urge to claim her runs an equal race with the one that says protect her at all costs. She’s ours. To touch, to care for, to worship. The possessive beast in me roars back to life, and I sincerely wish I could simply be with her. Fuck all this noise.
But no. There’s brotherhood business to attend to. I settle myself onto the edge of the couch cushion next to Archer. The twitching anxiety under my skin is driving me insane. Archer, who is much more relaxed than I am, absentmindedly claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. He always can tell when I’m about ready to go out of my mind. He waits for me to release the breath I’ve been holding before he turns his focus on Kingston. “So. Can we discuss last night first? I imagine you reamed them, but what’d they have to say for themselves when you confronted them?”
I’ve been dying to hear this, but with Kingston ushering us off to class, there simply hadn’t been time to talk about it until now.
“Well first, I sent the initiates out. They don’t get to see this shit. And I don’t think Dane or Zeke are involved, seeing as how they were outside the entire time. I did letthemobserve the subsequent shit show that went down when I questioned the others, though.”
Archer purses his lips, his brows drawing together. “Alec, Joel, and Stuart… Those fuckers were in that house. I think any of the three wouldn’t have batted an eye at messing with her. Alec especially. He was a dick when we had him as a freshman initiate, and he’s even more of a dick now, especially where she’s concerned.”
Kingston practically growls, “Joel and Stuart were fairly tight-lipped, and Alec couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut, so Imadehim shut up.” He shrugs, flexing his fingers before clenching them into a fist, a dangerous smirk twisting his lips. “The dude never learns. They all got an ugly reminder I’m not someone to be fucked with.”
A grim expression sets up residence on my face.I wish I’d been there. Except it’s distinctly possible I’d have beaten the shit out of him.Thinking back, I bet Archer and Kingston are right. My guess is that it was all of them, plus that fucknut freshman, Bridger.
The protective, possessive beast inside me snarls, and I try my best to beat him back. This isn’t the time for me to lose it. Right now, we have to strategize.
Archer thoughtfully runs a hand over his jaw. “Taggart seemed beside himself when he found Elliot at the door, so I doubt he had anything to do with it. But go ahead and add that fucker Bridger to the list of possibilities.”
Pressing my lips together tightly, I gesture to him that he’s spot on.
“Funny you should say that.” Kingston lets out a harsh sigh.
My eyes flick to his as my stomach rolls at his tone. I can already tell from the way Kingston’s shoulders have tensed that I’m not going to appreciate one bit whatever he’s about to say.
“This afternoon, Elliot confided in me that during the first initiate game, Bridger apparently thought it’d be within the bounds of the rules to shove her out of his way on purpose when it became clear she might make it back to the house before the buzzer. Pushed her so hard she fell to her hands and knees. It wasn’t an accidental bump. Dane knew. Elliot told him she didn’t want to say anything.”
Archer tenses at my side, but I can’t control myself. This is too much. I surge from the couch, my chest heaving. “What. The. Fuck.” I bite out. Those words are all I have in me to say out loud, but they give my friends an excellent idea of my state of mind. My throat constricts, and I whip my phone from my pocket, letting my thumbs fly to do more talking for me.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Where is that little asshole?
I’m going to take his head off.
My jaw is locked up so goddamn tight, I swear I feel my teeth cracking.
Kingston glances at his phone, reading my words, then holds up a hand. “I know. I’m pretty fucking pissed, too. But there’s more. Sit down, and I’ll tell you what else she’s been hiding from us.”
I don’t realize Archer’s risen from his spot on the couch to stand beside me until he murmurs, “Come on, man. Let’s sit and talk through it. We’ll sort it all out.” He’s always fucking cool about this kind of shit, and I will admit sometimes it makes me fucking mad when he doesn’t hardly react at all about anything. But in this case… he’s right. We should hear everything before we figure out a plan of action.
I wonder if they’ll let me at Bridger, because I’d really like to wipe the perpetually smug look off his face. I exhale heavily as Archer and I take our seats again.
Kingston shakes his head, leans back in his chair, then runs the pads of a couple fingers over his lips. I have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever he’s about to say. His mouth contorts into something that is part smile, part grimace. “So, Bridger shoves her down during the first game, almost destroying her chances of finishing in time. Then during the second game, she ends up trapped inside that closet—which had to be scary as hell for her—and fuckin’ knocked out before she could get to the door. I’m concerned with what it’s done to her mental state and how she’ll deal with the rest of the brotherhood going forward.” Kingston lets loose a frustrated groan. “Because as if that wasn’t enough—get this—some little asshat has been sending her threatening notes. I can only assume since they were delivered to her room that it’s someone within the brotherhood.” Before we have a chance to ask questions, he shifts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his jeans, and draws out a small stack of folded notebook paper. He chucks it onto the table between us. He gestures to them. “See for yourself.”
