Page 16 of Ruthless Chaos
“We can talk more about your ideas at the meeting tomorrow,” I say to Vance. He nods, leaning against the counter with narrowed eyes.
Ezra’s lips are pressed into a hard line, his hands balled into fists at his side. His stare is openly hostile, as if he’s daring Keller to look at him.
Out of the three of us, he has the worst temper.
Keller slept with Ezra’s girlfriend in sophomore year. Part of me wants to see him beat the shit out of Keller, just so I can make a show out of stopping him and get in a few punches of my own.
The four of us stand in silence for a while.
The tension grows thicker with each passing second. I tamp down my rage with another swig of my drink.
“Why are you here, Keller?” I ask.
“To wish you good luck on getting re-elected this semester,” he says with a smile. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your chance at helping your papa.”
My fingers tighten around the glass; I wish it was his neck. Ezra bristles at my side, and I know he’s just as close to bashing his face in as I am. Vance is uneasy too.
If I don’t do something about him, they will.
“I’d worry about your own problems,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “You should stay out of trouble. I’m sure the last thing your father needs is to lose another son.”
Keller’s bravado falters enough for me to know that he’s hurt.
Two years ago, his youngest brother was murdered. It was a contract killing. To this day, nobody knows who ordered the hit. Even in our world, it’s strange to have a child who isn’t the heir killed.
It was an unfortunate incident, but I’m not above using it against him.
He looks like he wants to say something else but wisely decides against it. Then he slinks away without another word. We stare after him.
“He’s gotten bolder,” Ezra says.
Keller weaves through the crowd, toward the exit.
“Yes.” I drain the contents of my glass, willing the alcohol to calm me. “I wonder what or who has deluded him into thinking that challenging me would be a good idea.”
“His father, probably,” Vance mutters. “He hates your family’s guts.”
I scoff, though Vance is probably right.
Ezra folds his arms, still looking in the direction Keller went. “I’m down for whatever you want to do about him, Duke. It’s been two years since someone’s been killed here. We’re due for another.”
I smirk, thinking of the last murder that happened here.
It was in my sophomore year. I was by the lake one evening when my phone chirped with an alert from the SFU App—they had discovered that one freshman had lied their way through admissions, voiding the Peace Treaty’s protection.
Though the alert had mentioned an investigation by the Executive Body, students took matters into their own hands. The innocent was dead by midnight, since the Peace Treaty also rewards the person who kills the trespasser with moneyorinduction into the House of their choice.
That’s how Cesare became a Kingmaker.
I put a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “His death isn’t worth the blowback. This year is important for us all.”
That seems to break through his murderous haze.
Vance strikes up a conversation about this year’s soccer season, which piques Ezra’s interest. As captain and star striker of our varsity team, Vance is aiming for another undefeated run to solidify his prospects for a professional career when we graduate.
He’s a fourth son, so he can basically do whatever he wants. I’m envious of his freedom. Any dreams I held that diverged from what my father expected were crushed a decade ago.
Keller’s interruption is still on my mind.
