Page 24 of Ruin Me
Thayer arrives then, as if summoned by the mention of having someone’s back. That’s how he rolls – smooth and silent like a shadow gliding through life. “I hear you’re having a group therapy session without me.” His tone is light, but there’s no hiding the concern under that smirk.
“The hits just keep on coming,” I mutter.
“Well, then,” Harrison says, sidling up to the group in time to hear my complaining. Again. He circles an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side with an easy familiarity that sends a shiver through me despite everything. “Let’s get some food in you before you start decking more people with hard truths.”
The corner of my mouth twitches up at that. “Food sounds good,” I admit and finally rememberthe to-go tea in my hand. It had been completely forgotten in the news that splintered my world and my belief in the one parent I thought cared.
But I refuse to let this bend me for a second longer. I can cut my nose off to spite my face and leave Crestmont, never to return, or I can take what that asshole gave me and squeeze every last penny out of that funding to make this world my bitch.
Is that acceptance I hear in the morning?
Gritting my teeth against my inner thoughts, I shrug it off. Maybe it is. Who can tell?
14
VOGUE
Sittingat a small table in the campus café, my fingers curled around my to-go cup of tea, the chatter around me fades into a dull hum as my thoughts fixate on the shadow creeping over Crestmont University. It’s like I can feel eyes on me from every direction, the presence of unseen threats closing in.
I look up to find Callum, Quentin, Harrison, and Thayer, all watching me with varying degrees of concern and curiosity. They’re part of this world, born into it, pulled under by currents too strong to resist, and here I am, caught in the wake of this mess.
“Tell me about them,” I say, setting my cup down, “The rival mafia organisation that shot the place up yesterday. What do they really want with Crestmont? I don’t believe this was about me. Or Quentin. Why attack here where there are hundreds of other people?”
Callum’s lips press into a thin line, his blue eyes darkening. “Never let it be said that you weren’t asmart cookie,” he murmurs. “But you might be right. They want control. They see Crestmont as a strategic point. Crestmont is a power hub, teeming with future leaders, influencers.”
“Don’t forget the money,” Quentin says. “Crestmont has resources and connections. These rivals? They’re looking to siphon off everything this place has to offer.”
“Plus, they hate that we have a stronghold here,” Harrison adds, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He looks every bit the enforcer he is, ready to jump into action. “We represent something they can never be. Legitimate power, respect.”
“By undermining us, they think they can climb out of the gutters,” Thayer finishes, his voice low and steady. “They’re wrong.”
I absorb their words, feeling the gravity of our conversation pull at me. The café, with its warm lights and the smell of coffee beans, feels like a sanctuary for what awaits outside its doors.
My mind races as I piece together what they’ve shared, understanding that Crestmont’s ivy-covered walls are just a façade for the battleground it has become. This is no ordinary college rivalry; it’s a war fought in the shadows, and somehow, I’m right in the middle of it.
“They play dirty, and they play for keeps.” Harrison’s jaw is set as he watches me closely with those eyes that probe into my soul. He sees everything, and there is nowhere to hide.
Picking up the cup again, I take a slow sip of mytea, feeling it scald my tongue. The heat is nothing compared to the burn of realisation that sets in. These guys aren’t just spouting paranoia; they’re talking about real threats, tactics used by people who have no moral compass.
“Great,” I mutter. A new kind of fear creeps in, coiling around me like a cold chain. It’s clear to me that my ties to The Crowned Syndicate, however tenuous they once seemed, have drawn me into a world where danger is currency, and everyone is spending big except me.
“Staying on the sidelines isn’t an option anymore,” Quentin says carefully, gauging my reaction. “It’s not just about being caught in the crossfire. You’re in the game, whether you want to be or not.”
He’s right, and every instinct I have tells me he’s right. Alone, I’m vulnerable, but within the fold of The Crowned Syndicate, at least there’s the semblance of safety.
Right?
“So, I’m in too deep to back out now.” It’s not a question. It’s an acknowledgement of the reality that’s been thrust upon me without my consent.
“Looks like it,” Thayer confirms, his voice low. “But we’ve got your back.”
“Thanks.” The word feels hollow. Gratitude isn’t enough to cover the cost of what’s at stake.
The weight of my situation settles on my shoulders, heavy like an anchor dragging me down. I realise that for all the independence and resourcefulness I’ve honed over the years, it might not beenough. Aligning with The Crowned Syndicate isn’t just a choice—it’s a necessity. It’s survival.
My fingers fiddle with the to-go cup, the tea inside long gone now. Joining The Crowned Syndicate isn’t just signing up for some campus club; it’s stepping into a legacy of blood and shadows. My mother’s face flashes before me, her tired smile after long hours at work—this wasn’t the life she wanted for me. But she lied, and now I’m in this up to my neck.
“Vogue, you good?” Quentin’s voice cuts through my thoughts. His eyes are sharp, trying to read me.
