Chapter 3

Thorn University

Soren

The cold plastic slides over my face, and immediately suctions itself to my skin. Tonight, I'm on the hunt. I will fucking find who took two of ours, and Taylor's little friend. This shit has gotten old, and I'm tired of some disaster constantly happening and cockblocking me. Death doesn't bother me. Maybe it's because I don't really care about any of the assholes who died. But it bothers her. Then I feel like a dick by trying to… while she's crying and worrying. I get more when there are fewer funerals and disappearances. So the only logical thing to do is find this cockblocker, Angel Maker, and deliver their head to Taylor. It'll be like slaying the Boogie Man. She'll be excited and jump on my cock.

Problem. Solved.

As it stands right now, Taylor and Steffan are beside themselves. Between the three of us, I know what it's like to be taken. To feel fucking helpless. An involuntary shiver takes my body, but not from the wind, from my blood boiling with rage from memories. Well, look at that, I can feel sympathy. Even for the obnoxious Kali, bitchy Chanda, and pretty boy Lee.

Steffan has barely slept since we got back from the police station. It's been three days. My brother, the king, the one who is usually the calm planner, is overreacting to everything. He's irritable too. Some of that, though, may be due to Taylor's parents showing up out of nowhere.Her mom couldn't wait and rushed her as we we're leaving the police department while her father found closer parking. I couldn't escape fast enough, not really interested in having to explain our intentions with their daughter. In the end, Taylor wanted to talk with them alone. I left only once I knew Steffan could safely monitor her.

Our girl is not adjusting at all. She's torn between comforting Steffan, they both love the man who was taken from them, trying to be strong for me, and dealing with her own survivor's guilt. Steffan thinks it's a good idea if she wants to talk to the psychologist, I personally think it's the worst idea ever. Part of therapy is being honest, and let's face it, Taylor can never be forthcoming with her about the majority of the things that have happened to her at home, or at Thorn University.

And now her parents show up, asking her to meet separately from us, and then taking her away to "visit." I know they're trying to convince her to leave and move back home permanently, and it has me seeing red. Lots of red. Blood red. I wonder if Taylor would eventually forgive me if I took care of her parents for her? Not like kill them, but make them too scared to ever contact their daughter again. Eh, she might not. It seems a relationship with her parents is important to her. Another aspect I don't understand. I never felt a desire to spend time with my parents, and any time spent with them had me wanting to go take a swim with Allison. What does that say about me? I'd rather swim with an alligator than sit at the same table as my parents. I've never bonded with anyone other than my twin, and Taylor.

I don't believe I have a heart, but if I do, Taylor's name is tattooed all over the hardened organ. If she were to leave us, all of us, I don't know what would happen. The Illicit has always been a job, a chore. It was nothing I ever really wanted. Until Taylor. Until I had someone I wanted to protect, someone I wanted to build a better life for. If she decides to withdraw, and moves back home with her parents, none of this means anything anymore. What meaning would my life even have?

It doesn't have to change. She can stay if the threat is removed. I'm tired of playing defense with the killer. This shit show has gone on long enough. This asshole has taken, and taken from us. Everything. Our scabs. Our brothers. Our allies. Our families. Not that I personally care who got turned into ground beef, but I don't like having stuff taken from me. The police have been sniffing around, so it's only a matter of time before The Illicit is under fire. It's already started with the FBI showing up. Our livelihood and legacy are being threatened. A few dead bodies are nothing new, but an entire pledge class wiped out. Minus Succo… unfortunately. If we had to save one, I would've picked one of the computer geniuses. Instead, we got dealt with one who has already pledged his loyalty to the Concord family, and which was done by thinking only with his dick.

"Where the fuck are you sneaking off to?" Think of the idiot too long and they fucking appear. My black boots echo off the marble floor as I continue walking toward the back door. "Hey! Carmichael! I'm talking to you!"

On second thought, I do have a minute to rip his head off. I spin around on my heels so fast, that alone almost knocks him on his ass. "Since when do I seek permission from anyone, much less a damn scab?" Before he can react, I shove him hard against the wall. "Don't follow me. Don't ever call after me and use my family name. You're not family. You're not even a brother yet. You're barely part of The Illicit with your dying name."

He hisses through his teeth as he struggles against me. Managing to wiggle enough from underneath my hold to where he can speak. "If you're looking for them, I want to be there."

By them he means Chanda. Of course he's chomping at the bit to tail me. He isn't brave enough to go sniffing for her out there on his own. Or smart enough to know where to begin. Last time he was with her, he got his ass handed to him and she went missing. Doesn't mean he should be my problem. Or… I press my forearm harder into him, a dark chuckle escapes me as I let him struggle a minute longer before I release him.

"Keep up. Keep quiet."

Succo's eyebrows pull together. "Why are you smiling?"

Because if I need bait, or a shield to block bullets, it's going to be you. Instead of voicing that thought, I pat his shoulder, and say "Because I just realized there's a better chance of survival as a team."

He punches my shoulder and walks ahead of me toward the door. "Yeah, sure. I'm not going to be your frontline guy in case anything could be a trap, if that's what you're thinking."

He's smarter than I thought. Well, hopefully those instincts will be useful. As we stomp down the steps of the back porch, I light a cigarette and mentally run through all the different locations where we could start looking. One of the underground sex clubs? A motorcycle club bar? If it's a member of The Illicit who is involved, maybe we should check one of our own social scenes. There's a bar downtown that's one of ours. That should be as good a place as any to start.

"Let's take one of the BMWs. I don't want to take one of our personal vehicles that someone might recognize." We walk into the massive garage that's lined with cars. I snag the key for the beamer off the rack and click it for the headlights to blink so I can find the damn thing.

Succo hops into the passenger side, "Where are we heading?"

"No clue where to even begin looking, but they're not working alone, and they have intimate knowledge about The Illicit. We'll start downtown. Find people and ask some questions. See where that leads."

"Why there?" Succo scratches his chin in thought. "Think one of The Illicit knows something they haven't told Steff?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. Na?ve little pledge. Of course, someone knows something they haven't told Steffan. It's The Fucking Illicit. People get bought out all the time to keep their mouth shut. Or they're scared of pissing off someone even higher in power.

Flooring the pedal, we fly around the curve away from the mansion. "The asshole who is behind this isn't working alone—we know that. But they have resources and inside information. So, yes." I pull another deep drag from my cig and exhale. "Yes," I repeat, "this is someone who knows things only an insider would know, but isn't speaking up. Information that only an Illicit would have the privilege of knowing."

The rest of the ride is in silence, thank fuck. When we arrive at the sleek nightclub where the music is too loud, there are too many people, and I'm too wound up, I waste no time charging through the club. I need answers now, and someone is going to give them to me, even if I have to spend the entire night and litter the streets with bodies.

Succo nudges me but takes a step back when I snarl at him. He quickly recovers himself and steps back into my space. "Chill. You're like a rabid dog hungry for blood," he yells over the music. "I was going to ask if we're looking for anyone in particular?"

"No. Let's get upstairs. That's the VIP."

As if sensing the danger radiating from me, most of the people clear a path. Nobody dares to stop me as I go straight past the bouncers and into the exclusive area of the club. My ears find a hint of relief the farther up we go. The music isn't as head-splitting loud.

A thought occurs to me as I turn back at the simple-minded pledge on my heels. I smirk at Succo. "Funny."

"What is?" He arches a single brow.

"You're so clueless about where we are. I guess Chanda didn't bring you here?" His brow furrows, and I almost want to throw my head back. I lean forward and waggle my eyebrows. "She's very familiar with this place."

His lips form a stern, straight line. "It's an Illicit club. Don't see why it's news she would come here. She's an Illicit."

"Oh, that she is. This is where she fucked and killed my father after all."

My body is slammed against the wall and a laugh escapes me. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Succo presses his forearm against my neck. "I'm trying to find her, along with others who are missing, and you're bringing up that shit! Focus on what's important!"

I easily maneuver out of his hold with a swipe up of my arm and then kick his legs out from under him. As his ass hits the floor, I continue walking. Well, that was a moment of fun.

He catches up to me, and without bothering to glance over at him, I say, "I am focused, dipshit. You're the one who isn't. I mention Chanda was here, and you lose your shit—not because this could be a clue to who might've taken her—but because you're jealous and thinking with your cock. Seriously."

Poor Succo still looks confused. I sigh and turn to face him. "Did you miss the part about her murdering the head of The Illicit? She did that here. Scene of the crime. Keep up."

"You think someone here took her as revenge?"

"There's motive. But also, my simple-minded sidekick, I would like to remind you that the person who sent your little succubus told her to come here, and they knew where my father would be, and when, and made it so easy for her to carry out her murderous, slutty deed."

Succo releases a sound of frustration as we begin walking again. "I would appreciate it if you'd stop with the insults and offensive remarks toward Chanda."

"Tell me, are you pissed because they're true, or are you still being jealous?"

"Both." At least he's honest.

"Not my fault you're dating a praying mantis, and have a weak ego."

"We can't all be comfortable with our partner fucking multiple people, sometimes at once."

"You've got some balls, Scab." I speak the words calmly, but he's entering dangerous territory. Nobody talks about my little mouse. This is a one-way street. I can talk shit and rile him up, but don't fuck with me unless you're prepared to bleed. Before I can knock his teeth out, a male voice calls out my last name.

"Carmichael. What's a fraternity member doing here?"

I spin on my heels and see it's my father's cousin, Percy Carmichael. Rumor has it, he's hoping to make a run for head of The Illicit. His argument is that Steffan is too young and inexperienced. He has a motive to be behind this—power. Remove the leader, and the next in line until he would be the obvious choice to lead. This is some Lion King shit. Or Hamlet. Or some other bullshit royal family drama. But he doesn't look as cool as Scar. Not as suave either. I would make a good Scar, but I wouldn't throw Steffan off a cliff… well… if I did, it wouldn't be to become the leader.

Fuck. That.

Percy Carmichael's voice has an air of authority as he speaks to me. "I asked you a question, boy."

Boy? Ooookay. The audacity of some motherfuckers. I swing my fist as hard as I can into his face. Succo curses but doesn't stop me when I grab Uncle Percy by the neck.

"I have some questions for you, boy. What do you know about my father's death, and the Concord children's disappearance?"

His eyes widen with a hint of gleam. "Lee? Someone has Lee?"

"Don't fuck with me. I'm going to count down from five, and you better tell me everything you know."

"I don't–don–"

"Five."

"Soren! I–I–"

"Four."

He begins to turn an angry crimson as he spews, "You've always been a fucking psycho! Unhand me, you degenerate!"

"Three."

"The only Concord I've seen was Chanda. I swear."

"Two."

"Lee hasn't been seen. She was in here. Did they take–"

"One."

"SOREN, PLEASE!"

I pull back and then lay into him. Pouring everything I have into every punch. Sweet mercy, releasing all this stress and tension feels euphoric. God, yes. I needed this.

"What's happening!" A rush of bodies come out. Some men try to pull me off. I turn and begin punching every person I can get my hands on. I tried talking, now it's time to make the streets run red and litter them with bodies. Maybe after that, someone will come forth with useful information.

Taylor won't be happy until I find them. I need her. I want her to be happy. So until then I will beat all these fuckers within an inch of their lives.

For Taylor.