Page 8 of Born into Madness
“I will,” I tell her. “I’ll let the others know what’s going on, too.”
“Val might decide to sit this one out,” Niki says. “Yel’s about to pop that baby out, and he’s way too worried about her to focus on anything else right now.”
“True enough,” I say. “We’ll call him in if we need him, but for now he doesn’t need to worry about it. Send me Tom Sullivan’s class schedule when you get it and find out what you can about these Alpha guys. I’ll go on campus and do a little snooping.” Standing so I can leave with Mia, I drink the last of my Coke and then grab the empty plate. “I need to get back, too.”
They both share a smile because they know why, but I ignore it. My dog tends to get violent when left alone too long, and I miss the little monster. I’d found the Doberman when we’d gone to Colombia to rescue Max and Talia from a cartel. He’d been hit by a stray bullet, and I’d felt compelled to help him. It’s an unusual enough emotion for me to feel, so I didn’t second-guess it. When he’d rewarded my efforts by trying to bite me, well, it was kind of love at first sight after that. I think my little demon dog might be my spirit animal. I’d named him Chort after the shapeshifting devil in Slavic folklore. It fits him.
After saying a quick goodbye to our aunt, Mia and I leave together. When we’re on the main road, she gives me a wave before veering off towards the house she shares with Dario, while I keep straight. I’d bought an old warehouse and had the thing gutted. There’s still an industrial feel to it, but everything inside is brand-new, including the security system Niki installed. From the outside, you’d never know it’s a sleek, modern fortress that’s completely impenetrable.
Pulling up to the garage, I punch in the code and then press my thumb to the scanner like I’d done earlier at Niki’s, and when the garage door lifts, I drive into the spacious three-car garage. There’s another code by the door, this one with a retina scanner, and once the light turns green, I step inside the one place that feels like I can fully let my guard down. It’s just me and Chort, no more masks, no more wondering about everyone around me, no more worrying about anything.
There’s no one here to look at me funny if I miss a social cue, or raise a brow when I don’t do what 99.9% of other males would do. I’d had to go to one of our strip clubs last week with a few of our men, and I’ve never felt so out of place. The naked dancing women at Pink hadn’t done shit for me, and I still don’t understand the lure of the place, but it’s obvious I was the only one who didn’t get it. My family may be full of violent men, but not a single one of them is a cheater, so they don’t hang out there, but that doesn’t mean they don’t understand why men go and spend all their money there. I’m left out of the loop on that one, and if the men who’d gone with me weren’t scared shitless of me, I’m sure they would’ve had some things to say about it. One look from me, though, and the jokes died on their tongues.
Stepping in, I look around the room while I set my weapons on the kitchen island. I don’t see any destroyed furniture, which is a nice step up from his usual behavior, but it’s not like him to not greet me. The place is as open-floor as you can get, and whenI scan the large living area and don’t see his black-and-brown body, I say, “Chort, where are you?”
When I’m met with silence, a cold fear starts to run up my spine. There’s no way anyone could get in here to hurt him. He has a doggy door, but the small backyard is rigged with motion sensors and security cameras. I’ll get an alert on my phone the second something crosses the fence.
My heart races, and I savor it, even as unease prickles my senses. Another reminder that I’m human, that I’m capable of caring about something, because so help me, if anyone hurts my dog, I will fucking destroy them with a slowness that will bring insanity before it brings death.
I don’t relax until I hear his whine. It’s not anI’m hurtwhine. It’s hisI’m pissed at you and poutingwhine, and I let out a relieved laugh when I hear it.
“I wasn’t gone that long,” I say, eyeing the stairs that lead to the loft-style bedroom. When I hear his annoyed whine again, I head for the stairs, taking them two at a time until I’m standing in my bedroom, eyeing the dog that’s sprawled out on my king-size bed. I let out a sigh when I see the shredded pillow.
“I was hoping you’d outgrown this,” I tell him.
He grunts and wiggles around some more so he’s thoroughly fucked up the blankets, and then he stills and turns those golden-brown eyes up at me. I’m incapable of getting mad at him, and he knows it. He also takes full advantage of it.
Reaching down to scratch his belly, I say, “I would’ve taken you with me, but you know you would’ve just tried to eat everyone at the club.”
He paws at my arm and then gently gnaws on it. When he doesn’t break skin, I grin, because if that’s not anI love you, then I don’t know what is.
“Come on, let’s get you supper. I’ll give you extra steak tonight to make up for it, okay?”
With a quick lick to my arm, he hops up and trots down the stairs. I take one last look at the destroyed pillow, deciding I’ll deal with it later, before following after the temperamental Doberman who obviously runs this house.
While I make his supper, I tell him about my day. I don’t know if other people talk to their dogs, but Chort seems to like it. When I set his food dish down, I pet his head and give him a good scratch behind the ears.
“Think I can pass for a college student?”
He tilts his head like he’s trying to understand, gives another grunt, and then attacks his food.
“Yeah, I think you’re right, but I’m going for it anyway. Since I won’t be blending in, maybe I’ll bring you along.”
He perks up at that, and the decision is made.
Chort and I are about to experience college life.
Chapter 2
Cynthia
I’m pulled from sleep way before I’m ready to face the day. Pulling the covers up higher, I try to escape back into the comforting darkness, but my roommate is dead set on denying me this small luxury. The dorm room we share is tiny, so in her defense there’s really no way to be perfectly silent, but there’s no need for her to be quite this loud.
Brittney made the campus cheer squad this year, and she never fails to loudly complain about the fact that she’s forced to room with a non-cheerleader. I think her early morning noises are payback for my lack of pom-poms. Not only do I lack the amount of school pride it would take to get my ass out of bed at the butt crack of dawn so I can go run three miles, but I also lack the coordination. I’ll go to the football games and clap when everyone else does, but my ass does not need to be jumping around on the sidelines.
I keep my eyes closed until I hear the loud bang of our door when Brittney slams it shut. I groan into my pillow, wishing like hell my best friend was still my roommate instead of living it up at the Kappa Theta Rho mansion with her own private bedroom. As soon as the thought hits me, I feel guilty about it. Savanna’s mom had been a Kappa back in the day, and she’d been soexcited when Savanna was invited to join. Grace has been like a second mom to me, and I know how much this means to her. I would never steal that joy from her, not even if it allowed me to ditch my chipper, pep-rally-in-human-form roommate.
I briefly think about texting Savanna, but then decide not to inflict this five a.m. punishment on anyone else and instead throw back the covers and force myself out of bed. There’s no point in trying to go back to sleep. I could use the extra time to make up some classwork anyway.
