Page 51 of The Deceptions
“Ready for our last year here? Can you believe it? The last time we stand here on a first fucking day,” Jaxon says, turning to look over his shoulder at the people milling around campus across the street.
“Can’t come soon enough,” I huff, aching to go home and surround myself with music and nothing else. My bedroom is my damn sanctuary. The only spot I can be myself and relax.
“You’re telling me. Levi and I were just talking about life after this shit hole,” he quips, slapping his brother on the chest. In return, Levi shoves him off without saying anything.
“This is our shit hole,” I quip, crossing my arms when Jaxon smirks, eager to retort, but doesn't get the chance.
“Eager to rule your piece of your kingdom?” Mack asks, wiggling his brows.
If there’s one ally we’ve gained through the past four years, it’s these two, despite them being our supposed enemies or whatever Franco claims. We’ve done our best to keep up the illusion of spying on the others brought here by him.
Jaxon rolls his eyes toward the sky. “Oh yes, so eager to run the club and games and shit. I can’t wait to leave the weather here and go back to the cold winters and more duties.”
Levi glares at his brother before slapping him on the shoulder and nodding to the side.
“Anyway. Duty calls. We have to set up the house and welcome our new little pledges into the family business. They’ll be so pleased to see what we have in store for them.” He grins so brightly, I know it’s going to be bloody.
“No deaths,” JJ says, narrowing his eyes.
“In all the years you’ve known me, have I ever murdered someone?” JJ’s eyes narrow at Jaxon, who huffs. “Okay, on campus? What do you fellas take me for? A killer? You guys are so insulting.” He puts a hand over his heart, shaking his head as Levi pulls him away. I don’t think that one likes us very much. Or anyone really.
With that, the Rizuto brothers march away down the sidewalk and walk up the stairs to their home on campus.
“Let’s check in at the frat house,” I say, nodding toward the large home looming a few steps away.
“Gotta check on our little pledges! You think they set up the margarita machine yet? That’s always a hit.” Mack wiggles his brows again with a laugh.
“You seriously sent them a list of shit to do already?” JJ huffs as we walk beside each other.
“Um. Of course I did! What fun is it to have little pledges at our disposal if I can’t order them to set up the damn margarita machine?” He scoffs at JJ, giving him a dirty look. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”
We continue our walk, and just as we're passing by our lovely neighbors, a familiar voice rings out tauntingly.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in!” Malic sing-songs from the porch, while sporting his familiar grin.
He stands tall near the railing of their wrap-around porch, lording over us. His massive muscles bulge as he crosses his arms. Malic is huge, but I could take him any day of the week. Maybe a punch to the gut would shut him up for once.
His partner in crime, Wilder, gives him an exasperated look, running his hand over his shaved head. It's eerie to see Wilder and Mack in the same vicinity. Not only do they want to murder each other on sight, but the similarities between the two are uncanny. You'd never guess they weren't full brothers. Same eyes. Same hair color. Same build. They'd be twins if Wilder hadn't decided to shave his head.
“Looks like shit to me,” Mack hisses, cracking his knuckles, ready for a damn fight.
Sometimes I wonder how the two of them managed to get a home here on Syndicate Strip. No one knows exactly who their boss is. All we know is they're from Greenwood. We grew up with them. And now, they're working for some guy here? Franco hasn't said much on that front. Only that we need to keep our eyes on them and try to figure out the identity of their boss. But he says that about everyone who lives on the strip.
“Shit, huh?” Wilder quips, standing to lean against the railing with that familiar cigarette resting between his lips.
“Yeah, shit, asshole.” Mack squares up, eager to get his fingers around Wilder’s throat and take his brother's life.
“So brotherly,” Malic jokes, cocking his head. “But this is a fight I'd love to feast my eyes on. Which brother will win? The loose cannon or the one with a stick up his ass?”
Wilder whips his gaze to Malic. “I better be the loose cannon.”
Malic only grins in response, giving me time to reel Mack in.
“Cool it,” I grit out, putting a hand on Mack’s chest before he marches up the stairs and punches them both. He’s prone to losing control of the anger clinging to him. “He’s not worth it out here.” I eye the crowds meandering through campus across the road from the strip. There's not a lot of traffic on this side of campus, but there are still witnesses around.
The last thing we need is someone calling the cops because a gang-brawl has spilled out onto the lawns. Franco is never pleased when we get ourselves into trouble. Even though the law is well on our side of things.
“Save it for the fight,” JJ mutters under his breath so only Mack can hear him.
