CHAPTERTWELVE
MICAH
“This just keeps getting fucking more interesting,” Brock said as if I already didn’t know the Sterling situation was quickly tumbling out of control. That only meant it was my turn to take the reins.
So far Sterling had been calling all the shots while I played catch-up, trying to uncover his intentions. I still might not know what the fucker’s agenda was, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t dominate the game.
I stared at the matte black envelope Brock had handed me.What the fuck is he up to?This felt like bait, and I didn’t care that my name was Bradford. Despite my forefathers all being a part of Chi Sigma, I didn’t believe with Sterling as current president that my name would have given me a free pass.
However, perhaps I could use this little ticket to my advantage. That had been my play from the beginning, but I assumed after I rearranged his face last weekend that rushing for Chi Sigma had been removed from the table.
Apparently not.
Weren't fraternities just concealed secret societies? Or a guise for asshole bullies who were one dead animal away from being serial killers in the making? There was something about the whole eternal brotherhood that I found disturbing. Not like what I had with Brock, Fynn, and Grayson. Our bond went deeper than parties, drunk nights, and being jackasses.
No one was more surprised when I got the invitation to rush Chi Sigma than me. Not even Brock appeared stunned by the letter, nor the identical one with his name scribbled on it.
“No shit,” I groused, the letter in my fingers crinkling.
Brock tapped the envelope against his palm. “You have to admit, this guy has balls.”
A growl rumbled in the back of my throat. “Which is exactly why I don’t want him tangled up with Mads. He’s made this personal.” I tore open the envelope and slipped out the printed card. Only a date, time, place, and password were typed on the invitation.
August 29th
Midnight
Ash Woods
PASSWORD: Manwhore
I read over the text again, fighting the urge to ball the shit up and burn it over our stove.
Brock glanced over my shoulder. “Manwhore, huh?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fuckers. Why do I get the feeling that the passwords are actually frat-given nicknames?”
Reaching behind me, I plucked the letter from Brock’s fingers. “What the hell does yours say?” My eyes went straight to the bottom of the card.Midas. “Midas,” I repeated aloud after saying it in my head and glancing up. “You’re shitting me. As in you have the Midas touch?”
Brock grinned. “Maybe they aren’t as bad as we think?”
I socked him in the shoulder, my lips twitching despite trying to keep a straight face. “Get the fuck out of here. It’s obvious they don’t know jack about football.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Relax. They just want something from me. I’m intrigued to find out what that is.” He clapped me on the back.
“It’s either your dick or your money,” I muttered, tossing the stupid invitation on the kitchen counter.
“I think based on our passwords, it’syourdick they want.” He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to razz me as the smirk on his lips lingered.
Sauntering into the living area, I sank into the couch, kicking my feet up on the coffee table. “Mads might have something to say about that.”
Brock snorted a sarcastic snicker. “All jokes aside, I’d feel better if we had someone tailing the girls.” The other side of the couch groaned as he folded himself into the cushions.
“Mads and Kenna would spot them so quickly, and I’m pretty sure Josie’s caught on to your tricks. They’ll find a way to dodge him. They always do,” I shot down the suggestion.
“And they always end up in trouble,” he pointed out.
“So true,” I grunted in agreement.
“Fine,” Brock huffed, crossing his arms. “At the very least, one of us should keep an eye on them.”