Once Fuckface had his fun, Jules left the shadows and positioned himself in the center of the room, staring him down with an icy gaze. Jules hadn’t even had to do anything. Fuckface lost all color in his face, and two of our newest members herded him out of the room. When he emerged the next day, his face was swollen and his pinky was broken.
Even though I hated everything the fraternity was, one very convenient benefit was the brothers always had our backs. Always. Ever since that night, I had wondered why none of Fuckface’s buddies tried to retaliate. Not that I particularly cared, but in our game, we had to know who was who in the zoo, and how much support they had. That was the only way to know how far we could go in our game. Because it was all a game, and we were playing to not only win, but also destroy every fucking player.
The long table was nearly empty, so there wasn’t anyone there to keep Jules’ attention. He nodded and turned his head to stare at the dance floor. Such a steady fucker.
Frantic screaming broke through the thumping music, drawing attention to two girls in the corner, throwing down in a major catfight. A crowd had already gathered, so there must have been some kind of buildup. Another scream sounded as the black haired beauty pulled out an entire strip of hair from her opponent.
Emmett whistled as he leaned back on his elbows. “My money’s on the Super Model.”
“Oh, yeah? And which one is that? Both are hot.” Jamie stood to get a better look. It wasn’t hard. The VIP section was on a platform, allowing us entitled pricks to lord over the commoners.
“Well,” Emmett drawled, “the tall, slender girl with black hair and small tits, that’s the Super Model. The other one has that Slut Next Door vibe to her. All wholesome looks and very little scruples. That’s the one that got her weave ripped out.”
“How can you tell she has very little scruples?” Charles swirled the amber liquid around in his glass.
“Because I had her last year. There were no hard limits. Like I said, very little scruples.” Emmett smirked at the fight down below.
The Super Model got in a good uppercut, right as a new girl rushed into the fight. Damn, Super Model could throw down. I might have to see about adding female fights to the docket. Freddie could thank me later with all the cash he’d make.
The new girl wasn’t there to fight. Her lips moved, but she was too far away to make out any words. She tugged on the arm of Super Model, unsuccessfully trying to pull her away. Slut Next Door noticed her, and instead of bowing out gracefully to save face, she bitch-slapped the new girl.
“Damn. That looked like it hurt,” Jamie mumbled.
“Oh!” Johnny laughed as he pushed his chair back.
“Pin-up did not like that,” Emmett mumbled, walking to the rope that separated us from them. No one even questioned his choice of nickname, because this one had curves for days and long, wavy blonde locks.
The girl he had accurately described as Pin-up stopped pulling on her friend, calmly stepped forward to grab the other girl by the hair, and slammed her head against the table next to them. There wasn’t even a fight after that. Slut Next Door slid slowly down, as if in slow motion, until she plopped on the ground.
Jeers and catcalls nearly burst through the roof as Super Model and Pin-up quickly left the dance floor.
Johnny stood up and looked at Jamie expectantly. “Let’s go line up our prize for after the fight.”
Emmett laughed and tossed back the last of his beer. “Let me guess, Super Model?” Tall, skinny ass women were their style, and the darker, the better. Tan skin, black hair, dark eyes. That was their type exactly.
Jamie shook his head and grinned. “Not tonight. Pin-up is scrappy, and she deserves a fighter. Or two.” Johnny and Jamie straightened each other’s collars and hair before they simultaneously nodded and headed off through the crowd.
Across from me, Derek tossed an arm over the back of his chair, the top button of his shirt strategically unbuttoned like he was fucking Don Juan. “Those two are going to get in trouble. I heard they only ever share.” His voice grated on my nerves.
“What’s wrong with that?” Emmett snatched a glass of champagne off of a passing tray. “They’re having fun, so who cares?”
“Like their family is ever going to allow them to marry the same girl,” Charles put in.
I lifted my glass and pretended to take a sip. “Doesn’t matter what Daddy wants, I doubt they’ll ever get married anyway.” Damn it. Why did Johnny and Jamie have to take off already? They were first generation Alpha Delta Omega, unlike the rest of us. Without the ingrained pretention, those two were actually bearable.
Derek shrugged like this wasn’t a conversation worth continuing.
I glanced at Jules next to me. The spot where the girls had fought had already filled up with new patrons, but it held his complete attention. I nudged his knee with mine, and he jumped. His gaze locked with mine, and he shrugged. Emmett noticed our exchange, quirking an eyebrow before turning away.
In ten minutes, we would head down to the fights. We would watch. We would pretend. Then, when everyone shuffled out, drunk on adrenaline and wasted out of their heads, we would act.
Chapter Two
Emmett
“How much did you put on the twins?” Derek prattled as we descend down the back stairwell. This prick just never stopped talking.
Bloodlust thrummed through my veins. Another job tonight. This one really had my cock stirring. Jules texted me when I went to the bathroom earlier. Nothing like going to take a piss and discovering the night’s target was someone I’d love to filet with my trusty pocket knife.
Milo always had a good laugh at my expense whenever I whipped it out. My precious was nothing like a Boy Scout knife, no matter what Milo said. It had more of a switchblade feel to it, and I always made sure my baby was razor sharp. I touched it through my jeans, excitement building at the prospect of danger. Because these jobs were always dangerous.
We may not have had any choice in taking on these tasks, but we damn sure were using it to our advantage.
“Two hundred. One for each twin,” I answered, but my thoughts weren’t on this douche at all. Old school rap music played low over the speakers, echoing up the staircase. At the bottom, hordes of sloshed college kids packed themselves into the tightest space possible. Old Freddie was probably a good two hundred over the fire code, but what the city didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
“What about Pin-up? Want to put any money on if they bag her or not?” Some random jostled Derek, and he shoved them away with a hard push. It looked a little awkward on him. Derek was not someone who would ever dirty his own hands in the fighting ring. He was the kind of man who would pay an underling to do it for him.
“Nah. I’m not taking that bet.” Jules had already parked his ass in our spot. Every fight night, Milo, Jules, and I had premier seats. Milo helped run the books, and as a perk, the best viewing spots were ours. The Kings of Alpha Delta Omega. I turned to Derek before I left him. “They were determined. As the king of pussy, I know when a girl’s about to fall. And she will, right into their arms. Very few women would turn down the winner of fight night. And identical twins to boot?” I shook my head. “Pin-up doesn’t have a chance.”