“Or, do you want to tell your father to go fuck himself? Do you want to watch us destroy anyone who tries to control you? Do you want to be ours—really ours—consequences be damned?”
My heart is hammering so hard in my chest I can barely breathe.
This is the moment—the choice.
Good daughter or something darker.
Cage or chaos.
I look at each of them—these violent, possessive, utterly unhinged men who’ve somehow become the only thing I want.
“I want to give them all the biggest ‘fuck you’ they’ve ever seen. I want to watch it all burn.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Oh, Princess, you have no idea what you just unleashed.”
“Welcome to the war.”
“Now, go back to your dorm,” he orders. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you smile for Chase if he shows up. You play nice for your father. You be the perfect, political princess.”
“And at night?” I manage.
His grin is feral. “At night, you’re ours to ruin.”
NINETEEN
DREDYN
Chapel parties after an AGU win? Pure fucking chaos. Both Omega Chi Kappa boys and some of DSN are out in full, reckless force. And I’m sprawled out on a half-broken pew outside the chapel.
Mad, Rook, and CJ flank me on the pew, passing around the flask of spiced rum. Mad’s eyes are glazed as he nudges me. “Dredyn, you see the new girl over there?” he slurs, chin jerking toward a blonde who’s cheers-ing a red solo cup with another girl with crazy hair. “Thinking I might take her home. Her name is Sable. Asher was telling me about her.”
CJ barks a laugh. “Shoot your shot, man, before Rook beats you to it.”
Rook grins. “I don’t steal teammates’ girls. Unless they ask real nicely.”
At this point I’m half listening, my eyes scanning the area for the only girl that matters to me. But then I catch a flash of a DSN officer—Dayton Hughes. My father works for him, which means that, inevitably, in the future, I will work for Dayton.
Doesn’t mean he’s above me . . . just means there will becertain jobs he can’t do without me. I cut through the crowd and call out his name. “Hughes!”
I don’t miss the flicker of distaste in his face. Doesn’t matter how polite his smile is. I’m Omega Chi. He’s Delta Sigma. The Syndicate might want us to “coexist,” but we both know it’s a constant dick-measuring contest.
He sizes me up. “Steele,” he says, offering his hand.
“Big turnout tonight. Lots of fresh meat.”
“Virgins aren’t really my thing.”
“Oh, yeah? Prefer them a bit used? I could hook you up with my leftovers.”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says. “I prefer not to contract a disease.”
I laugh. “I’ll have you know we test regularly.”
“But y’all still don’t wrap it,” he fires back.
I shrug, unbothered. He’s not wrong. Girls spread their legs for OCK knowing damn well what they’re signing up for. And they beg for more every time. “Touché.” I let my gaze wander, like I’m already bored, then I drop the bait. “Guess we’ll see who wins the prize tonight. My linebacker, Asher, says there’s a new girl. Pretty little blonde. Tight.”
