Pride (Page 21)

I slam the rest of my beer, needing the alcohol to hit me faster. I need to numb my mind and the booze isn’t doing the job. Nothing is. My brain refuses to shut down. I haven’t talked to Micah since that night he got his task. Wondering if he went through with it. I refused to hear Envy’s task. Whatever destruction was in store for him, I couldn’t bear the burden of knowing. But there was one thing that’s for certain. He was going through with it. That gleam in his eye told me so.

I can’t stop thinking about when the next one will be handed down? What horrific things will the next brother have to do?

I just want to leave and find Megan. I’m struggling to find reason in what I’m truly doing with her. I like her. Fuck, it might be more. But I can’t imagine doing the horrific things Lillian wants me to do. Why the fuck does she hate her so much? Was she jealous of her? She’s her brother’s daughter, for Christ’s sake. Was she disgusted by her secret fetish for kink? Being a sadist cunt seems worse than having a dark taste for sex. And so fucking what? Megan stands for so much more than her bedroom desires. She’s amazing, smart. A hard worker, and a great teacher. She wants to help people. In the last class, she was urging people to sign up for the New Orleans Homeless missionary charity to help support the homeless and less fortunate. How does someone that selfless deserve to be chastised and defaced?

I wasn’t going to do it. I couldn’t. But every time I told myself I wouldn’t go through with it, my sister’s face came into view. No matter how I broke it down, I was fucked. Someone was going to suffer. The more time that goes by, the more questions that arise. How long has this cult society been going on? How long have people been getting away with such disgusting acts? Maybe I was searching for the wrong answers. Maybe if I got down to the root of The Elite, I could expose them. Take them down. Ruin Lillian herself. Maybe if I did that, I wouldn’t have to ruin the only good thing that’s come into my life.

“There ain’t shit you can do that’ll get rid of this look, so move along,” I tell her, knowing no one will fire me up the way Megan does. I push off the wall, but she blocks my exit.

“Oh, come on. We can grab some drinks and maybe go in the hot tub. There’re tons of private rooms. We can get to know each other a little better.” She raises her hand, but before it makes contact with my chest, my fingers wrap around her wrist. She groans at my hard grip. I learn closer with my cruel stare. “What exactly you wanna do? How ‘bout you let me tie you up and fuck your ass. Play a little game of who can scream louder? Maybe we can explore what else you like shoved up you while we’re at it.”

Her facial expression morphs into disgust. She rips her hand from my grip and slaps me hard. “You’re a sick fuck,” she spits and walks away. Unfazed, I snag a beer from some tool walking passed me and chug it. He dares to turn my way, but the threat in my eyes has him scurrying off like a little pussy. It’s late, and I know no one will be on campus. Now is the perfect time to take a little visit to Lillian’s office and see what else she has locked up in that desk of hers. I walk by Sloth, who nods at me as if he can read my mind.

I’m out the door and headed to my car. Pulling my keys out of my front pocket, I notice a cloud of smoke in the shadows. I backtrack to see Sloth appear from the darkness. “How the fuck did you—?”

“I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” he says, taking a huge puff of a joint.

“Do what? How’d you get out here before me?”

He takes a step forward, illuminating himself under the streetlight. “There’s persistence in elimination. And in elimination takes strategy.”

This guy needs to lay off the fucking weed. “You know, I don’t really have time for fucking riddles, so if you could just spit out whatever it is you want to tell me, I got shit to do.” He takes another drag and flicks the half-smoked joint in the street. He saunters up to me, lighting up a cigarette. “The best work is done when no one’s looking. The problem is, they always are.” He turns his head to stare off down the street. I follow his lead but see nothing but an abandoned alley. He returns his gaze back to mine. “I’ll see you around, alpha. Sooner rather than later.” Like a ghost, he disappears back into the shadows of the night.

I jump in my car, weirded out by that encounter. What the hell does he mean? It was a warning, that’s for sure, but how does he know so much? I start my car and pull away, unsure where I’m going. My plans to break into Lillian’s office are now diverted.

Fuck the whole Elite. Right now, my only thoughts are on seeing Megan and fucking her until all the bad shit floating around in my head disappears. I head toward her house, and my phone dings. I growl at the bad timing and lift my screen to read my incoming text.

Cunt Griffin: Detour time. Head down Miller to the French Quarter. Enjoy the scenery.

I slam my hands on my steering wheel. I want to message back telling her to go to hell. Ignore her demand, shut my phone down, and spend the entire night with Megan. Besides wanting to take every single part of her until my dick threatens to fall off, I want to get to know her. Her likes and dislikes. What she eats for breakfast, the brand of shampoo she uses. I would even sit and listen to her political views if it meant just hearing her voice.

I run my hands through my hair and tug at the sudden headache making its way through my skull. Just fucking do it and be done, I tell myself, taking a detour through town until I find myself in the heart of Bourbon Street. Never a care for what day or time it is, the French Quarter is always alive with music. Street performers block half the streets while people scatter along the sidewalks dancing and laughing, drinking and exposing themselves as if every day were Mardi Gras.

When I come up to the stoplight on Bourbon Street, a group of college kids parade across the street, holding beers and sloshing booze onto the pavement. Just as the light changes to green, a couple ignores the sign and crosses. Annoyance strikes on my nerves, and I raise my fist to slam on my horn when I recognize her. My hand stalls in mid-air as I watch Megan, on the arm of some guy, trotting along the street. The asshole turns to wave at me, thanking me for not running his ass over.

My eyes lock on them as they make it across the street, his hand dipping low on her back to escort her onto the sidewalk. Seeing his hand on her infuriates me. I want to jump the curb and run him over just to get him off her. A honking car behind me forces me to accelerate and drive just as I catch them popping into a nearby restaurant. I flip the asshole behind me the bird, take a right, and park a few blocks down. Throwing my hoodie over my head, I jump out and head back toward the place they walked in to. I don’t know what I’m doing. Why I find myself standing outside the window of the table they were just seated at. I watch in disgust as he pulls out her seat and she smiles at him. The same fucking smile she gives me. They order drinks from the waitress, and every so often, she laughs at something he says. My teeth grind every time he reaches over to pat the top of her hand. The urge to know what they’re talking about grates at me. I’m about to storm in there and rough her dorky ass date up. But is that what this is? Is he just another me? Someone she’s trying to convince to go home with her and play her dark and twisted games with until she’s done getting off? Is this the evidence I’ve been desperately searching for that proves she’s not so innocent?

Fuck! The realization hurts. How fucking stupid of me to think we had something more, deeper. She was probably just being nice, so you’d keep her secret. Her dirty little secret. I watch her raise her finger to the waitress. Her lips move, and I read them. Check please. That didn’t take long to convince him—not as fast as she convinced me.

I pull away from the window, unable to watch any more. My phone dings, and I rip it from my back pocket.

Cunt Griffin: Now that your love-sick puppy dog faze is over, get back to the task at hand. xoxo

The rage inside rumbles deep in my chest. That bitch set me up, wanting me to see this. My anger threatens to detonate. I need to get out of here before I end up inside, ripping that motherfucker’s head off. I hang a right, knocking into a college frat boy.

“Hey, watch it, asshole.”

He opens his mouth to talk more shit, but doesn’t get another word out, because I raise my fist and smash it into his face. Blood splatters as I break his nose. Pulling back, I strike him again, over and over, until the sounds of a girl screaming she’s calling the cops compels me back to reality. When the fog finally rises, I pry open my eyes and grimace at the kid, bloody and unconscious at my feet. I glower at the small crowd I’ve caused. Even people from the restaurant are peeking out the window, curious to the commotion. Jumping up, I take a step back, throw my hoodie back over my head for disguise, and begin jogging down the street. I run past my car to avoid them seeing what I drive. Can’t risk them taking down my plates if those pussies really do call the cops. I run for almost a mile until I see neon lights and slip into the hole in the wall bar.

Megan

“Yes, Mother…I know…I am! Tell Dad I love him too. I won’t, Mom. I’ll see you both on Sunday. Love you too!”

I throw the phone down and snatch my book back up in my hands. I flip to where my favorite worn bookmark holds my place, and curl back into my chair, wrapping my feet under the large cashmere blanket Mom bought me for Christmas last year. My eyes find where I left off when vicious pounding on my door has my arms shooting to the sky, tossing my book. Startled by the intrusion, the book falls to the floor, losing my page.