That’s when two suited bodyguards push through the crowd toward us. Connor is one of them, towering and broad, and he recognizes us instantly. “Easy, boys,” he says, raising his hands in a show of calm authority. He steps forward with another man flanking him. I know that one, too—Marcus Wu, Omega Chi class of last year, now wearing an earpiece and a hardened stare.
My stomach churns at the sight of these familiar faces turned enforcers.
It’s like seeing brothers transformed into strangers. No... not strangers, just Syndicate grunts.
Dredyn snarls at them, but I still have him locked tight. His chest heaves under my arm, and I can feel the thunder of his heart even through his jacket. He’s seething, ready to explode again if given the chance. My own heart is hammering just as hard, anger burning under my skin.
My hands itch to fight, wrath coiled inside me, but I force myself to hold steady. If this comes to blows, we’ll be swarmed by security in seconds. We’d lose, and then we’d lose Mara for good.
“Smart move—keeping him restrained,” Connor says to me, his tone almost chiding, as if we’re just some unruly kids. His gaze flicks to Dredyn’s murderous glare. “Last thing you want tonight is an assault charge … or worse.”
“We’re just here to celebrate the President’s victory,” Talon lies smoothly, though his voice drips with sarcasm. “No trouble from us, Connor.” He uses the guard’s first name deliberately, reminding the man of who we all are... who we used to be, together—Omega Chi brothers.
“Go home. Cool off,” Connor says, eyes shifting between us. Up close, I can see new lines on his face. “You should know when you’re outmatched.” The condescension makes my blood boil, but I stay silent, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. Talon gives a thin, mirthless smile.
“Outmatched? Funny,” Talon says quietly. “I remember when you were the one teaching us never to back down.”
Marcus steps between Connor and Talon, head tilted. “This isn’t a college rivalry, kid. This is bigger than AGU.” He reaches into his suit jacket, and for a second, I bristle, thinking he’s going for a weapon. Instead, he pulls out a small black business card. He holds it out to us between two fingers. Dredyn actually recoils a fraction—maybe surprised that it isn’t a gun? I exchange a wary look with Talon and release Dredyn completely as he seems under control. I take the card from Marcus’s hand.
There’s nothing on the front but a single phone number embossed in silver on the black background. No name, no logo. I flip it over. A blood-red image is printed there—a dagger plunged through an open book, crimson blood dripping from the pages of the book.
The symbol of the Syndicate.
My father’s voice echoes in my memory, lecturing about “knowledge wielded with deadly intent.” The book and dagger—the Syndicate’s calling card. Equal parts intellect and violence.
“Give us a call if you need something,” Marcus says, voice flat, eyes unreadable.
Need.
We all know what that implies. If we want Mara, if we want anything, it’ll be on the Syndicate’s terms now. My hands shake with barely-restrained wrath as I slide the card into my pocket. I have to, because I’m seconds from ripping it in half otherwise. But a small, rational part of me knows we might need that number.
Dredyn’s lips peel back in a snarl. “Go to hell,” he spits at the guards. His whole frame is as taut as a bowstring; I can feel him trembling again under my hand.
Connor’s expression doesn’t so much as flinch. He simply adjusts his suit jacket and replies, “Already been. It’s not so bad once you’re running the place.”
Talon’s fingers dig harder into Dredyn’s shoulder, cautioning him not to take the bait. I give a short whistle under my breath—our old signal to pull back. Dredyn’s gaze snaps to me. I meet his eyes with a hard stare and quickly sign, at my side,“Later.”We’ll deal with this later.
He exhales, a shudder of pure hatred, but nods once. The fight hasn’t left his posture, but at least he’s listening.
Satisfied we’re not about to cause more trouble this second, Connor and Marcus back off. “Good boys,” Marcus mutters, and I have to fist my hands to keep from wiping that smug look off his face.
They escort us toward the exit, staying a few paces behind, like we’re unruly guests being seen out. The crowd is still buzzing with excitement about the engagement, most of them oblivious to our little confrontation in the back.
At the grand double doors, Connor leans in one last time. “For what it’s worth... walk away. You can’t fight this.”
Walk away? Not a chance in hell.
We step out into the cool night, and the doors shut behind us, cutting off the din of celebration inside. The three of us stand there on the sidewalk, beneath a flickering streetlamp, shaking with adrenaline and rage. Dredyn immediately yanks away from our hold and paces, running his hands through his messy black hair. “Fuck!” he shouts into the night, voice echoing off the nearby buildings. I watch him; he looks like a wolf who just had his mate ripped away.
Talon exhales a long breath and straightens his jacket, trying to regain his composure. Under the lamplight, his face is pale with anger, freckles standing out stark on his skin. “They think they can just... pawn her off like some bargaining chip,” hemutters bitterly, eyes flicking to me. “He killed your sister, Jasper!”
I pull the black card back out and stare at the blood-red dagger stabbing the book.
Dredyn practically rips the card from my fingers to view it up close. “Bastards,” he growls. For a moment, I fear he’ll tear it in half, but he doesn’t. Instead, he crushes it in his fist, shaking. When he looks up at us, there’s fire in his eyes.
“They think they can scare us off? Take Mara and just... just own her?”
“They want a war?” Talon says slowly, a cruel smile ghosting on his lips. “We’ll give them a goddamn war.”
