I stumbled to the door in a haze of pain, flung it open, and tore down the hallway, checking all the rooms, the front door, every corner of the house. Nothing. No trace of him. Like he’d vanished into thin air.
I stood there, chest heaving, the crimson envelope burning a hole in my mind. That mask, that envelope, it could only mean one thing. I’d finally gotten my first Sphinx trial.
Even if the guy had just seen my dick…all I could feel at that moment wasrelief. For months, I’d watched Jace and Parker breeze through their trials like they were nothing. Jace treated it like a joke. Parker barely mentioned his unless he was dragging us along to help him. None of it was a big deal to them.
For me, though…the Sphinx was everything.
I’d spent my whole college career terrified of losing what little I’d scraped together. No matter how many NIL checks came in, no matter how many fans wore my jersey, that fear stayed put. One wrong move, one bad play, and I’d be back where I started…just another broke kid from nowhere with a busted dream and a family hanging by a thread.
But the Sphinx…the Sphinx was my way out. My safety net. My ticket to a life where doors wouldn’t slam in my face. Membership meant power that didn’t depend on touchdowns or stats. It meantcontrol.
I stumbled back to the bed, eyes locked on the crimson envelope like it might disappear if I blinked. My hands shook as I tore it open, the paper giving way with a rough rip. Inside was a single card, black ink scrawled in neat handwriting:Membership Dossier. Rutherford College.
I just stared at it, the words refusing to make sense. Rutherford College? The elite school with the kind of money that could buy a new building every time one needed fresh paint?The only thing I really knew about Rutherford, besides their reputation for breeding trust fund geniuses and that they also had a prep school called Rutherford Academy on their same campus, was that their football program waselite. Not as good as ours right now, obviously, but Jackson Parker had played there before going pro. Now he was lighting up the NFL, and I’d even gone to a few of his games, watching from the stands while pretending I didn’t envy every damn second of his life.
And what the hell was amembership dossieranyway? Now was one of those times when Parker’s big brain would’ve actually come in handy. He probably would’ve rattled off some theory about secret archives and power structures while I stood there trying to make sense of a damn envelope.
I frowned, trying to sift through the blur of memory. The night of our Sphinx initiation felt like something out of a half-remembered dream, so unreal I still wasn’t sure it had actually happened. I remembered the bag yanked over my head, the rough hands dragging me down a flight of stairs, the air growing colder the deeper we went. Then the smell of wax and smoke. Candles everywhere, flickering off the stone walls. Dozens of people stood in front of us, their faces hidden behind those sleek black masks, their voices distorted and rhythmic.
I swallowed hard.
Was this membership dossier some kind of record of everyone who’d ever worn the mask? Every name, every generation, carved into something meant to last forever?
If so, this wasn’t just a file. It was their holy grail.
What the hell was I supposed to do with it?Steal it?
The question burned in my mind, wild and impossible. If there was one thing I’d learned from helping Parker with his trial and hearing Jace’s stories, though, it was that nothing the Sphinx did ever made sense until it was too late to back out.
Fuck. How was I going to steal something from Rutherford? Where would it even be?
I flipped open my laptop, the screen lighting up my dark room with a soft blue glow. My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I typedRutherford College Sphinxinto the search bar.
Nothing.
I tried again, this time justRutherford College secret society.A few hits came up, rumors, conspiracy blogs, an article about some fraternity scandal, but nothing even close to what I was looking for.
That didn’t make sense. We didn’t even have a Sphinx chapter there. So why the hell would my trial be tied to that school?
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand down my face. My mind spun through every name that might have answers, every connection that might make sense…until one stood out.
Jagger.
Jace’s older brother.
The guy who somehow knew everything about everyone and was also impossibly rich. No one was really sure what he did for a living, but the general consensus wassomething illegal. Probably mafia-adjacent. Definitely sketchy.
I pulled out my phone and shot him a text.
Me: So…you know anything about Rutherford College?
It took a few minutes before the typing bubbles appeared.
Jagger: The fancy one? Why the hell are you asking me about that?
That was a fair question. I’d probably just interrupted him mid-weapons deal. He probably had a gun in one hand and his phone in the other.
Me: I just need some…info.
