Page 79 of The Deceptions
Mack doesn’t say a word as he eats, but I know what’s going through his mind. It’s something he thinks every time someone gets close to us. It’s our fault. We’re the poison in the world. And maybe a part of him is right. Maybe we are the ones who bring death and destruction to everything we touch.
We’re broken.
Mack pulls out his phone, clicks a few times, and sets it on the counter with trembling fingers. “Someone fucked with her grave.”
Ah. That explains the unhinged rage when he entered the house. My heart may break every time I walk by Olivia’s grave, but Mack relishes visiting with her. After every run or when he’s feeling down, Olivia is his person, even in death. He’ll sit there with a rock in his hand and Waffles at his side as he divulges the day’s events to her ghost.
I blink a few times, zooming in on the headstone with a frown. “Who?” My mouth gapes open at the damage. It’s completely torn apart, hit with something hard, and broken through the numbers engraved on her headstone.
“If I fucking knew, you think I’d be sitting here sucking on some goddamn grapes? I’d be tearing their throat out and making a fucking example of them,” Mack grits out, aggressively biting into another grape, spraying its juice onto the countertop. “No one fucks with that.” Not even Franco. He’s respected our grieving through the years, helping us come to terms with the fact that she’s gone.
But never forgotten.
Hux’s fingers flex over the edge of the countertop again, turning white from the force. Red takes over his cheeks, andveins burst from his neck and forehead. “Fuck!” he shouts, picking up a glass and flinging it across the room until it shatters into pieces on the ground. “Fuck! God damn it!” he explodes, clutching his hair and pacing in front of us until he stops, turning his deadly gaze to me. “There are cameras in the fucking area, right, JJ?”
Of course there are. He knows that. We had them installed so we could keep an eye on the people passing through and dumping their animals. Especially after Waffles came about. We’ve saved quite a few animals since then because of the cameras hanging on the trees.
“Yeah.” There’s a burning lump resting in my throat when I nod in agreement. “I’ll take a look at it and see if I can find anything.” And when I do, that asshole will be in a world of fucking hurt. I’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.
"Macklyn." Hux stands tall, his fingers flexing at his sides with the need to hit and bleed to relieve whatever had him worked up in the first place.
“Huxley.” Mack doesn’t bother meeting Hux’s eyes when he shoves more food in his mouth and downs several gulps of water. How he doesn't choke, I’ll never know. “Let me finish my recovery. Some of us run five miles every goddamn day.” He rolls his eyes, swallowing his grapes and taking more in.
“Fine,” Hux spits, heaving a breath.
"So, what has you so worked up?" I ask, trying to diffuse the situation. If I don’t get him talking, he’ll take it out on the two of us instead of working it out in the gym beneath us.
Hux has been a ball of tension for years now. I hardly recognize him from the man I knew five years before. Of course, Olivia's death affected us all in different ways. Losing someone so important to us imploded our entire universe. Fundamentally changing the molecules inside our bodies.
We lost our entire fucking universe that night, and we've never recovered from it.
"Besides Amanda," Mack says, cracking his neck a few times.
"Besides her." Hux curls his fingers over the edge of the countertop, squeezing tight until his knuckles turn white. "I need to see surveillance footage outside the fucking advisor’s office, too."
Mack's face twists. "Why?"
"Because," Hux breathes out, attempting to relieve some tension. "I think I found a new fucking recruit for this year.” His teeth grind, and he blows out a breath, clearly thinking about whatever happened again. “I don’t fucking trust them, either.” I raise a brow. His gut instincts are hardly ever wrong.
“Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Mack mocks, pushing the container of grapes away with a huff. “Weird, you want to add some stranger to the roster, though. It’s usually those fuckers who put their names into the jar at our interest party. You’ve never handpicked someone.” He stares Hux down suspiciously, and I don’t blame him. Hux never takes this part of our job seriously.
We’re supposed to recruit people to our frat, which gives them an open door to Franco’s organization. AKA the mob and our connections in return for their loyalty. And the interested party? One night each year, we hold a graveyard party. How morbid, if you ask me. But if you’re brave enough to eat pizza where the dead lie, then you’re brave enough to join our fraternity.
"How can you be so sure? And why should we trust him here?" I ask, tilting my head and examining his expression. It's shuttering. Almost closed off for interpretation. Weird. That usually means he’s hiding something from me.
"That's why I want to watch the fucking video. So, shall we?" A perfect evasive maneuver from the expert known as Huxley Crewes.
"You heard the man," Mack says, slapping me on the arm. "Get the goods and let's see the newest potential so I can judge." He grins, but it no longer lights up the room like it used to. Long gone is the carefree Macklyn. In his place is a robot, smiling and laughing like his former self, without the same happiness behind it. The same nothingness we all feel day in and day out of our rotten existences because our sun set a long time ago, and now nothing is the same.
I nod, running up the stairs toward my room, and grab my laptop. Once I return, tension holds thick in the air as Huxley moves beside me with anticipation bleeding from his limbs when I take a seat.
"What makes this guy special?" I've never seen him this worked up about a potential recruit to our cause. Sure, we've had some good members come into our house and prove themselves throughout the four years we've been here. But nothing like this.
Hux eyes me. "You'll fucking see." He gestures for me to bring up the surveillance footage, and I do. Clicking through, I bring up the time we were there and start the video. My brows furrow. "Him? He's so..."
"Lanky and fucking soft looking," Mack snorts. "He'd never survive the trials of initiation. Can you imagine that tiny motherfucker on the obstacle course? Or in paintball? Please." We all lean in when Amanda pokes a hysterical finger into his chest, and he grabs it without pause. He doesn't seem to hurt her but restrains her from touching him. I roll my eyes. "Let me guess, she made up another story to try to get you to beat his ass." If there's one thing about Amanda, she likes to create chaos for Hux. If she's not the center of his attention, she makes it her mission to be. That's all she craves from him—attention.
I watch with deep fascination as Hux backs the dude into the wall with a vicious snarl. All for the cameras, of course. He has to protect Amanda even when she isn't watching. Per the rules of their engagement. Even if it fucking kills him on the inside. Most men back down from the vicious stare of Hux. But not this guy. He doesn’t cower an inch. Instead, he raises his chin, staring directly into the eyes of the beast without fear. Standing slightly shorter than Hux’s six-foot frame, he should be terrified. He should be anything but calm and collected. And... Holy shit. My lips part.
