Page 55 of Fight or Flight
Until Jace, the idea of fighting with someone as foreplay was so far removed from my reality that I would have laughed if someone had told me I’d be into it with anyone, let alone with him.
I don’t enjoy fighting or verbally sparring with anyone, let alone someone I’m thinking of hooking up with. I don’t get any pleasure out of sniping or trading insults, and someone pissing me off is usually the best way to make me lose all interest in them.
In all the years I’ve been hooking up with women, I’ve never once had the desire to toss one of them around or manhandle them, and I definitely would have stopped things if someone pulled out the dominatrix moves and tried to wrestle me into submission or top from the bottom, or whatever it’s called whena woman bosses a guy around and makes him do what she wants.
Tearing my eyes from my reflection, I scoop up my phone and turn away from the mirror.
I’ll have plenty of time to obsess over all the things I’ve learned about myself later. Right now I need to get dressed so I can get my ass over to the main house before the meeting starts.
Killian and the twins are already waiting in the main foyer when I arrive, and it feels like there’s a giant spotlight on me as I approach them.
“Hey,” Killian greets, giving me a quick upnod as I come to stand with them.
“Hey.” I upnod him back. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Jax shakes his head at the same time Killian says, “Nope.”
“Why is your hair wet?” Jace asks conversationally.
I flick my gaze to him. “I just got out of the shower when the text about the meeting came through.”
A sly grin lifts the corner of his mouth. “So does that mean you were naked when you answered the text?”
I pin him with a flat look. “Why does that matter?”
“Because I was too.” His smile shifts into a smirk. “Only I wasn’t getting out of the shower. I was…engaged in other things, if you know what I mean.”
A sour sensation fills my stomach at his words. Was he hooking up with someone? Did he just finish fucking someone’s brains out, and that’s why he seems so chill right now?
And why do I care? Jace is free to do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. So why does the thought that he mighthave been balls deep in some random when we were summoned bother me?
“Good, you’re all here,” Nico says as he strides into the foyer. “Follow me.”
Dutifully, we fall into step behind him as he leads us through a maze of hallways and doorways until he finally stops in front of what looks like a plain stretch of wall.
We wait as he kneels and runs his finger over the ridge of the baseboard. He must have pushed a hidden button or something, because a section of the wall pops forward, revealing a secret door.
I glance at the others as he pulls a ring full of what looks like skeleton keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door, and it’s telling that none of them seem shocked by any of this.
I haven’t spent a lot of time in the main house outside of events and parties, but I know the entire building is riddled with hidden rooms and extends multiple stories underground. I’ve only seen a few of the many secrets the building houses, but the Hawthorne cousins are different.
They’ve been part of the inner circle of the leadership since we were in our second year and have been heavily involved in the day-to-day workings of the Rebels ever since.
Then there’s me, the guy who’s been kept just as much in the dark as ninety percent of the frat’s membership about what actually goes on behind closed doors.
“Wait for us in there,” Nico says and points into the room.
Feeling even more out of my element than I did when I first walked into the building, I follow the others inside and look around as the door swings shut behind us.
The room is completely different from what I’ve seen of the house, but at the same time, it’s exactly what I’d expect to find behind a secret door.
It has the same textured wallpaper and dark wood accents as the rest of the house, and the giant chandelier hanging over our heads is similar to the ones in our rooms at Hamilton House, but the space is otherwise empty.
It’s also tiny, probably only eight square feet if I had to guess, and there are no windows, no door other than the one we came through, and there isn’t a stitch of furniture or any sort of decor anywhere.
It’s hard to explain, but the room doesn’t just look different, itfeelsdifferent too. Cold and sterile, and completely silent, like we’re cut off from the rest of the building.
A loud click, like an electronic lock engaging, rings out, and the pot lights in the ceiling blink off, plunging the room into pitch-black darkness.
