Page 119 of The Deceptions
Unfortunately, with the size of this massive party—I don't see us leaving for a few hours. So, I take a deep breath and press on as Oliver, who just loves socializing and showing his face at events, when my bed is beckoning me back home.
"That's weird... Kidnappings, though?" All the more reason I have to join. If their initiations are deadly, then I need to keep track of them and what they're doing. Maybe send their assesto Devil Head Island, where they can rot with the worst of the worst.
Simon side-eyes me and nods. "I had a friend get in there. He had daddy connections and all that fun stuff. He told me about the initiation night. They snuck into his room, tied his hands behind his back, and then dropped his ass out in the middle of nowhere... Naked..." he hisses, shaking his head. "Poor guy had to find his way back to campus without getting arrested. Oh, there he is!" He nods toward a large guy standing by a food table. He has a black shirt with a large snake wrapping around a golden sword with EN etched on the back, incorporating the college's motto printed around it. He's tall, muscular, but very unassuming.
I blanch. "Naked?" I swallow hard. If that's true, I can't let them undress me. They'll see my goods. Probably my tattoo, too, and their suspicions will rise. Once I've collected myself out of my thoughts, I shake my head. "What kind of connections does your friend have?"
My eyes scan the crowd as we wait in the long line, hoping to get into the party. I only count about six guys with the same shirt on, indicating they're a part of the frat.
"His dad's the president." Simon shrugs.
"I thought Wade's mom was the one in charge?" I ask, continuing to search the crowd for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. There's nothing suspicious, though. Well, if you don't count having a party at a cemetery. Now, that’s awfully fucking suspicious in my eyes.
"The President, Oli. You know, of this country," he says in a low voice. I startle, turning to look at Simon with a twisted expression that he must read. He laughs at me, leaning in. "If you notice, there are a few Secret Service guys around the perimeter, watching for any threats against him." Now that he mentions it, there are plain-clothed Secret Service membersnext to him with guns on their hips and eyeing the crowd. Well, some of them. A few stuff their faces with food, looking more relaxed than they should.
What's the president's son doing at Greenwood University and in a gang? Why didn't Jonathan mention this?
"Why is the president's son here?" I blurt out before I can bite my tongue.
Irritation simmers under my skin, spreading like a wildfire. Until the rage fully consumes me. I've stepped into a battlefield blindfolded. Only told half-truths and misinformation.
How didn't I know the president's son was here? Why wasn't it in my paperwork before I stepped foot on campus?
Everything should have been presented to me on a silver platter. People here with those types of connections should have been named with details, so I knew who I was dealing with. Hell, even having roommates should have been in my main briefing.
Jonathan basically threw me into the deep end with an unknown amount of sharks lurking around and ready to bite my feet off. And there’s a lot of goddamn sharks around me with sharp teeth.
Immediately, I roll my lips together. I shouldn't have said that out loud. I can't bring attention to myself with all those questions. Although I don't think Simon really minds. Or notices that I can't keep my questions to myself. He seems happy to explain it all.
"He got recruited to the Water Polo team," Simon says with a dreamy grin. "You should see them play," he sighs, staring off at the man in question. "He plays, too." He fans himself slightly, nodding toward—Oh, God.
"Mack?" I question, earning a nod in return.
Macklyn Owens? How strange. The baseball-loving little boy with a backwards Cubs hat, grinning as he raised his baseball bat in the air and hit a ball over the fence.
A grin would light up his face as Hux huffed on the pitcher's mound, complaining about the hit. Mack soared around the bases, touching home with a whoop.
Baseball bled through his veins. He wanted to play in high school, but Franco denied him the chance. So, he settled for playing on his own time.
I'd bet a million dollars that Mack didn't get to choose water polo. No. In fact, I'm sure he was placed there intentionally by Franco.
"So, do all the frat members live together?"
It's something I've been wondering about. Mack, Hux, and JJ don't seem like the type of guys who would live in a giant party house with other members. Not with Franco on their asses. He'd never let them off their leashes that easily.
He'd want to isolate them in their own home and keep his eyes on them. Like always.
"Yup. Well, except for the kings. They live in that mansion on the hill. All alone. It's poetic, if you ask me." He waves his hand toward Franco's mansion—the home I'm all too familiar with.
"Alone?" I quirk a brow, hoping Franco is as far away as possible.
Simon shrugs again. "No one is really allowed there. Very secretive and exclusive. Last year there was a rumor about a couple of guys going up there to fuck with the kings and they vanished! Poof!”
“Vanished?” I ask, needing more information.
Simon shrugs. “It was a rumor.” He grins again. “Or is it? You never know with the kings and the others.”
Finally after what seems like an eternity, we make it to the front of the long ass line leading into the cemetery. The music gets louder. Laughs grow. Conversations flow. And alcohol is in every student's hand as they mingle. My eyes widen at the sightof the party. Who knew a party in such a dismal place could look so enticing.
