Page 1 of Dean's Delinquent

ChapterOne

Dean Anderson

Death.

The stench of it coats my skin and fills my nostrils as I look over the dented, damaged foliage. Though the body has been ostensibly removed, the traces remain for those who know how to look. Hell, part of me worries that even an untrained eye will know what happened here.

Dried blood flecks on a few of the leaves and grasses before puddling into the ground. The once-pristine hedgerows look damaged in some undefinable way. As if someone lay in wait before pouncing on their prey.

Brian Philips. A nobody. He’s not even a frat boy trying to come into The Society. How in the hell did he manage to find his way into my hedge maze?

Pulling out my phone, I glance through the various messages. Other than Chase Ackerman who seemingly OD’d on Fentanyl, no one else is missing yet. Yet, being the operative word.

My brows pull down into a fierce frown as I pull up the app keeping me in touch with all the submissives. The last thing we need is a panic, but I know no other way of getting a consensus so quickly.

Master Anderson

This is Dean Anderson. All submissives have one hour to check in. A simple Yes, Sir. is fine.

Pocketing my phone, I make my way through the different paths, breathing in the cool air. Something is wrong. I feel it down deep in my gut. Unfortunately, I can’t put my finger on what it could be. All I know is my university is at risk. More than that, the very fabric of this secret society is threatening to come apart at the seams.

Could this be a sign? A warning? Is someone targeting us?

Not that it’s out of the realm of possibility, but as far as I understand it, we’re at peace with everyone. Things change so swiftly sometimes, especially when dealing in flesh and blood. Until I get to the bottom of it, I’ll be on edge.

The only question I have now is who do I talk to? Who do I tell? As with any secret society, the lifeblood that keeps it going is keeping it secret. If some of my more powerful members think they’re no longer safe... Well, that just won’t do.

Exhaustion slams into me as I run my hand down my face. It was never supposed to end up like this. How did things get so out of hand?

It’s more than just these two deaths. It’s the matter of some of these members as a whole. Scoundrels. The lot of them. Not that I’m all that different, I suppose.

But then, Iamdifferent. I have to be. Only, in times like these, the mantle of responsibility is no longer a cloak I choose to wear. It’s now more of a set of chains binding me in place.

“I hear trouble,” a voice grumbles next to me in that unmistakable broken English.

Sergei. Of all the people to show up, it’s fucking Sergei. I guess that means there’s no hiding this from Grigori. Fuck my life.

“Not surprised,” I sigh, glancing over at the newcomer. “Whatissurprising is why you’re here.”

“Main job keep bitch safe. Can’t keep bitch safe if pacing halls of mansion. Besides,” Sergei’s lips part into a wide grin, showing off his white teeth. “With bitch behaving, it’s more like drips of paint sliding down walls until stuck.”

Chuckling at his iconic butchering of idioms, I look back at the scene and sober. “I’m worried.”

“Yes. You have pinched look about neck and shoulders. Perhaps I bring Ivanka over to give good Russian massage. She makes all screws loose.”

My lips twist up into a smirk as I shake my head. “I think I understand what you’re saying. And no. If I need a massage, I’ll figure something out. No need to inconvenience you or Grigori.”

A silent pause descends between us as we both look about for clues.

Eventually, a heavy sigh slips from my lips as I pin Sergei with a questioning stare. “You haven’t heard anything from Nikolai, have you? Is there any chance he’s at the bottom of this?”

Sergei’s eyes glitter as he cracks his knuckles. “No. I keep close ear. If he becomes threat to bitch, he meets my knives.”

“Then I’m truly at square one,” I mutter, feeling hopeless for the first time in my remembrance.

“No. You are at topiary maze. Unless maze has square?”

A bark of laughter rips from my throat as I lean over and slap my hand on his shoulder. “You know topiary, but don’t know square one?”

---