Maxwell is away on business again, but as soon as he’s back, that dipshit is going to see exactly who’s in charge around here. Things have changed, and there’s no going back now. Not for me, and not for him. I’m going to grind that motherfucker under my heel until he’s dust and get Sab and I away from him and the black memories he’s shoved down our throats our whole lives. Then, I’m going to set about destroying everything he and our grandmother have worked for their whole lives. I’m going to take down the Gunner Foundation from the very roots, because none of these fuckers deserve it.
Fuck him, and fuck this family.
No longer will I be the black sheep of the family. Very soon, I’m going to be an entire fucking flock of black sheep and the motherfucking shepherd to boot, just because I fucking can.
“I like your pool,” Sebastian says as he swims to the edge of it. He leans against the side, and I sit up before leaning down to hand him the blunt. “Way too good for the likes of you.”
I smirk. “Jealous much?”
“Always,” he replies, and the look in his eyes gives me pause. He takes a long pull on the joint and gives a couple coughs, which sets me off laughing all over again. “Fuck, that’s good. What did you put in this?”
I glance over at Sloth where he lays on one of my loungers with his shirt off, his eyes closed behind his dark shades. The guy is either always sleeping or looking like he wants to go to sleep. He smiles, though, showing us he’s awake, and reaches out blindly for the blunt.
“My special recipe.” He smirks.
This is exactly how I expected it to be in The Elite—no pressure, no one giving me orders on what to do, where to go, or who to be. Fucking perfect.
“Well, your special recipe is perfect,” Sebastian says.
“Like I don’t already know that,” Sloth replies arrogantly.
We’ve been hanging out all afternoon. I’m not really sure how it happened, but when I woke up this morning, Sloth had been lying on one of the sun loungers around my pool like it was perfectly normal.
I hadn’t asked any questions, and he pulled out a baggy of weed. At some point, Sebastian showed up with some liquor, and the rest, as they say, is history.
After nearly committing a felony two nights ago helping Lust with a little daddy issue, we need this. It feels good to be around them all just chilling. I hadn’t expected, or even thought about this when I decided to join The Elite, but it was a brotherhood, and I was quickly beginning to trust these men—these brothers.
“Can I ask you a question?” Sebastian asks as he swims on his back around my pool, the joint still dangling from his lips.
I take a shot of whisky and glance at Sloth. Other than Sebastian who I met before all The Elite shit, I pretty much refer to my brothers by their sin names. It’s the only way to keep them all straight in my head. I think Sloth’s eyes are still closed behind his shades, but I can tell he’s listening regardless.
“What?” I ask.
“What’s in it for you?” Sebastian asks. He flips the joint around in his mouth like he’s about to give someone a shotgun, then submerges himself under the water. I’m not sure if it’s to buy me or him several seconds to think of my next words, but I’m glad for it all the same.
He swims to the opposite end of the pool, then kicks off the wall and swims back. When he finally surfaces, he pulls out the joint and blows out a plume of thick smoke.
“Well?” he asks, eyeing me.
I look over at Sloth, who’s actually showing some interest in my answer. He sits up, blinking behind his glasses.
“What’s in it for you?” I ask Sebastian. “Or you?” I say to Sloth. “What’s in it for any of us? Power. Freedom. Control,” I reply, answering honestly.
“But you’ve got everything.” Sebastian drags his hand through his wet hair. “Just look at this shit. You’ve obviously got money, and you’ve clearly got the freedom to do whatever the fuck you please. What more could a man ask for?”
I smile. But it’s not friendly. It’s dark and sinister. Sebastian’s smile falters.
“Revenge,” he says, matter of fact.
“Now that, I can drink to,” Sloth replies. He pours us all another shot of whisky, handing one to me, then to Sebastian. “To revenge,” he says with a smirk.
I drink, but I don’t feel comfortable doing it. I’ve let too much information out, given too much away. I’m not used to trusting other people, to relying on anyone but myself. I look over at my brothers who are talking and laughing, and realize things are different now. I have to trust these people. That’s what I’ve signed up for with The Elite.
We’re a brotherhood, and we’ve bonded.
We’re in this—whateverthe fuck this is—together.
Sabella chooses that moment to walk around the corner of the house, her short dress grazing the tops of her thighs and ruining my good mood. I already know what’s coming. I saw it on Sebastian, God, and Rhett’s face a couple days ago when they first saw her on campus. My sister is hot, smoking hot, and it’s the bane of both of our existences. The amount of boys, then men, I’ve knocked out for staring at her the way my newfound brothers are is too many to mention. I don’t want The Elite world fucking with my family. She’ll always come first. After all, this is all for her.
