Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I pull out my laptop and start pulling up passcodes for Ariah’s house. It won’t be long before a request is made. I should start a pool on who will break first.
I could add my opinion to the mix, but I don’t have one. The jury’s still out on the new girl. I ran an initial background check on her and her family as soon as we discovered someone had moved into the old Washington place. There was nothing alarming. Still, she’s an unknown piece on the board, and I don’t like unknowns.
What I do know is that Ariah’s doing something that no other girl, except Shay, ever does— stand up to Sam. Sam is repugnant. Everything she represents makes my stomach churn. However, like Wes said earlier, there’s a pecking order and Sam’s positioned herself on the tier just below ours when really she’s no better than anyone she lords over.
Her family has no true position of power in this town. They have no seat on the council. The Davenports have a long history in Edgewood, it’s just not a powerful one. There are five original bloodlines, and they aren’t one of them.
“Can’t you just see her, Lev?” Wyatt asks, pulling me into the conversation. I was fine being left out of it.
“See what?” I reply.
“See her as ours,” he claims with such surety that I’d almost believe it’s already so.
Lifting my focus from the screen in front of me, I remind him, “No, Wy. She won’t be ours, our fates are already sealed, and she’s not an option.”
Mirth fills his eyes, now more green than brown, as he scoffs, rebuffing my statement, “You fuckers are always steps behind.” It’s almost as if he knows more than he’s letting on.
“Do you know something we don’t?” Wes voices my thoughts.
He grins, cranking up the music and focusing back on the road, done with this conversation.
Wes grips the muscle of his thigh, his chest expanding and retracting as he tries to reign in his anger. Wyatt’s poking the bear. These two never know when to quit.
A message pings in my inbox. Pulling it up, I see a report from one of my programs. I’ve finally got a hit. I’ve kept this project a secret, running this facial recognition software for months hoping for something. I won’t say anything until I get a current location.
Clicking the message open, I freeze and my eyesight glitches. A reel of images plays like a slideshow through my mind’s eye. There he is.
“Gotcha, you dumb fuck,” I mumble, but I must be too loud because Owen leans over, and I watch as the color bleeds from his face— his skin turning paler. I snap my laptop closed. Imperceptibly, I shake my head so he says nothing when the music cuts out, and the question I know is coming is voiced.
“What the hell is going on back there?” Wyatt’s eyes appear in the rearview mirror.
Changing the subject, I reply, “Wy. You’ve got to tone it down. You’re going to scare the girl.”
It’s not a joke, Wyatt fixates and there is no rhyme or reason for why he does. He just does. So, my redirect has the desired effect I hope for.
Chuckling, he says, “Fear only heightens euphoria. What’s a little scare when it eventually turns to blissful screams?”
Shaking off his shock, some life seeps back into Owen, and he adds, “Screams are life’s aphrodisiacs.” Then, he cuts his eyes back in my direction, and I know we’re going to discuss this at some point. I’m just not ready to do that yet. I need more information. I can’t say anything until I’m sure I’ve connected all the dots. Once I do, we can eliminate the snake in our midst.
Wyatt pulls into the entrance of the Fraternitas, and our demeanors instantly change. Tonight we go through our third rite.
“Let’s get this shit over with,” Wes says, opening his door, and we all follow suit.
* * *
“Over the summer,you all began your journey from childhood into manhood,” Mr. Edgewood begins. He looks like the bulky older blond version of Wes. “Now, you enter the third stage, the second to last requirement to becoming full-fledged brothers,” he announces from his seat. “You all have been given an individual task that must be completed before the final selection is made in June. You must work as a team to discover who Senator Baker has been meeting with since he was turned down by us for his bid for the Presidency.”
“All files relating to the Senator have already been loaded to the private servers. Lev will get you all the files and ensure they stay encrypted,” my father states from the left of Wes’s dad.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Edgewood relays his final directive, “You all are expected to discover what the Senator has been up to and who he’s been up to it with. Don’t fail.” With that, we’re dismissed.
We exit the room, and none of us speak until we are back in the car.
“What do you think the Senator could be doing that warrants them to bring us in?” Wes mumbles, but I ignore him and begin digging.
Five minutes into the drive and I’ve found our first hit.
“Glen Matthews,” I interject, pausing their conversation.
