Chapter 15

I’m walking across campus, trying to work out what just went wrong with Odi. I mean, obviously she’s pissed that I didn’t pull out – I’ll admit it’s not in my nature to do so normally, but I was genuinely caught up in the moment with her – but it’s more than that. I felt so connected to her before and now she’s pulling away again. It wouldn’t surprise me if I find her bedroom window locked tonight.

My phone rings and I glance at the caller display with a sigh.

“Yeah?” I ask, tensing. It’s Zie, which means Axel has probably pressured him into calling me.

“Have you stopped sulking yet?” It’s Axel’s low, teasing drawl that comes through the line. He must have borrowed Zie’s phone knowing full well I wouldn’t pick up a call from him directly. I clench my teeth together both in annoyance at being tricked and at his attempt to goad me. “You need to come home. We have work to do.”

“I’m busy,” I snap. I don’t care if I sound childish. Axel’s gone too far and he’s going to have to back down and apologise for once if he wants to move on from this.

“Whatever. If you’re not here in the next hour, you won’t have any say in the candidates we’re facing.”

The line goes dead and I curse under my breath. Damn Axel, trust him to manipulate me into returning home. He knows that I want to choose the other candidates for the Hunting Grounds. I don’t want to return but I’m going to have to. I love Axel like a brother, more than a brother, but that doesn’t mean I trust him. Especially where Odile’s concerned. She needs somebody in her corner, more than ever. And I don’t trust Axel to fully have her best interests at heart. Left to his own devices, the devil only knows who he’d select.

I pick up my pace as I hurry towards the campus medical facility. The place is a joke. There’s not enough staff for demand, and the ‘doctor’ who works there is questionable at best. It’s common knowledge on campus that it’s easy to score a prescription for just about anything if you Google the symptoms first. Doc is too overworked and underpaid to examine patients properly, and most can leave with their drug of choice written out on a green ticket before their arse even hits the chair opposite his ramshackle desk. Not to mention the backhanders he takes for sourcing higher level controlled drugs or how he takes payment from those who don’t want to pay in cash.

There’s no way I’d let Odi step foot in here. I have no such qualms though, especially for her.

I burst through the double doors into the overcrowded waiting area, which mostly seems to be full of junkies looking for their next fix, and storm to the reception desk.

The girl behind it, a first year student judging from her timid wide-eyed stare if I had to guess, trembles under my gaze.

“I need to see the doc.”

“C-certainly, if I can just take your details...”

“No.”

“B-but—”

“I need to see the doctor. Now.”

“We currently have a bit of a wait. It’s about four hours.” I snort at that. Yeah, probably because the doc is seeing to the small gaggle of girls in one corner of the waiting room. Probably here for birth control, though they’ll be getting a damn sight more than that when they enter his office.

“I”m not asking.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t need an appointment.”

“Everyone needs an appointment or they join the end of the queue for walk-ins.” I mean, God loves a trier, so bless this chick for attempting to stand up to me.

“Here’s the thing, doll. The rules don’t apply to me. I’m Trinity. And I’m going in there in thirty seconds regardless of who the doc is balls deep inside, so I suggest you scurry on back there and tell him to finish fast and get his dick clean and tucked back in his pants, otherwise I’ll do all his ‘special patients’ a favour by chopping it off. Get me?”

I casually place the large hunting knife I carry with me at all times on top of the counter and give her my most deranged grin. It works better than Axel’s menacing stare because it seems like I’ll actually relish cutting off this guy’s cock. As if I want to go anywhere near his mangy disease-ridden dick.

The receptionist pales – from my threat, knife, or name drop it’s hard to say – and runs off to warn the doc that I’m coming.

I count to ten then follow her down the dimly lit, grimy corridor, and let myself into the only examination room on the premises. The sleazy doctor is hastily zipping up his fly, ashen-faced, and his ‘patient’ is fumbling to redress as silent tears stream down her face. I guess she didn’t get to finish then.

Despite being absolutely terrified of me, the doc is still pissed enough to level me a glare, but when I stab my knife into the top of his desk with considerable force, he rearranges his expression into something much more suitably deferential.

The receptionist leaves with the patient and the door bangs closed behind them.

“What do you want?” The doc snarls at me, obviously suffering from a severe case of blue balls. It’s the only explanation for his audacity right now. I raise a brow at him and watch in amusement as he gulps and swallows, realising the error of his ways. “I mean, how can I help you today?”

“That’s better.” I grin at him. He’s probably only in his late thirties but his corrupt lifestyle has obviously taken its toll on him because he looks much, much older. Idly, I wonder if he forces himself on his female patients. I can’t imagine anyone being that desperate. “I need the morning after pill. Not for me, obviously.”

“Your whore can go to the GUM clinic for that,” he snaps.

By the time he blinks I’ve already pulled the gun from inside my leather jacket, released the safety, and pointed the pistol right between his eyes.

“Do you really think if I just fucked some whore I’d go anywhere on her behalf for emergency contraceptives? It’s her fucking body, therefore her fucking responsibility and not my problem. Understood?”

“Y-yes.”

“Call my girl a whore again and you’re dead. I wouldn’t let anyone set foot in that cesspit, let alone send them to see you directly, so write the damn script so I can get out of here and leave you to your whores.”

The doctor blusters at my blatant insinuation but we both know his rebuttal is bullshit. He glowers at me but writes the damn prescription out and signs it. I retrieve my knife and pocket my gun while he does.

“Pleasure doing business with you, doc,” I say with a grin.

“What about my payment?” he cries as I turn to leave.

“Not blowing your face off or cutting your dick off is payment enough, wouldn’t you agree?”

“A-absolutely.” He swallows hard, beads of sweat rolling down his greasy face faster than butter melts on hot toast. “P-pleasure doing business with you.”

I shake my head as I look around the waiting room on my way out. I really can’t believe that anyone could be that desperate. I have to make sure Odi knows it isn’t safe here. She can’t ever set foot in this place, under any circumstances. If I find out that Axel used this doctor for Odi’s shot, I’ll kill him.

I almost wish we could put the doc in the Hunting Grounds, to teach him a lesson and send a message to all of the wannabe predators on campus that the women of Trinity College are not easy pickings, but the thought of him having to interact with Odile in the process makes me shudder. I’d rather die than let him anywhere near her – even for a minute.

Which makes me realise I really do care about this stupid contest and who is going to be in Odile’s life for the next few months.

Checking my watch, I realise I have to get home so that I can have that input. I pull out my phone and rattle off a quick text to the group chat. I’m on my way but I need another hour.

Next, I head to the pharmacy to file the prescription. The pharmacist behind the counter looks rushed off their feet and they give me an apologetic smile.

“It’ll be a whi—” I place the gun on the counter and she pales. “I think we can get this done pretty quickly. It’ll be right with you.”

“Much appreciated, thank you, ma’am,” I say with an easy smile.

Less than two minutes later I’m pocketing my gun and my medication. I scrawl a quick note to Odi on the paper bag and hurry back to her room.

By some small miracle, her bedroom window is still open a crack, and I’m infinitely grateful that she’s in a ground floor flat so I can easily climb through and drop the prescription on the bed for her. I can hear the shower running from her small en suite so I don’t hang around. The note, better safe than sorry, is clearly visible so I take off.

I have just enough time to grab a breakfast bagel to go from the campus cafeteria before racing back to our penthouse.

* * *

“You took your sweet time.”

I shake my head at Axel’s sniping attitude and decide to rise above it. “Let’s get this done.”

I join him and Zie in the lounge where a ton of manila folders are heaped in piles all over the coffee table. It’s way more than I was expecting and I raise a brow at how much work we’re facing.

“We got started already,” Zie tells me. “The two biggest piles are the ones we already rejected, so don’t worry. We won’t be here all day.”

“Let’s go over the non-negotiables first,” Axel says, pointing to the pile closest to him. It seems pointless to me but I’m just looking to get through today without a fight. Every time I think of the doc and those women waiting to see him, the patient who was crying, Odi’s fear when she learnt that Axel had given her a birth control shot while she was unconscious…yeah my blood is boiling through my veins and I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to keep the peace today.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Axel sniggers.

I don’t reply. I want to tell him that the doc has pissed me off, but I don’t want to explain what the hell I was doing at the campus medical centre. Better to let him think I’m still sulking over our fight.

“Come on then, who’re the legacies and other non-negotiables, besides us?”

The Hunting Grounds has been around for generations and it isn’t exclusive to Trinity College. It probably dates back to Roman or ancient Greek times or some such shit and it’s been run under many different names. It’s a stupid bullshit contest created by the likes of Axel’s power-hungry ancestors where they compete for power and dominance over their empires – whether they be political, criminal, business, or royal. For the winning individual or team that comes out on top, their power in their chosen sector becomes absolute, giving them advantages in their world that are unparalleled.

There are some rules that have to be adhered to, but the most important one is that the heads of the criminal empire can’t compete for political, business or royal power and vice versa, though alliances can and have been made in the past.

This Hunting Grounds will see us compete against other leaders of criminal organisations for a chance at the top spot which cannot be contested. Some families have always taken part and done well, and as such, any winning family can put forward an ancestor as a champion to compete as a legacy.

We’re legacies too but for Axel, it’s about power, yes, and being the best because he’s a chronic overachiever. But it’s also about upholding that legacy. Our fathers all competed in the last Hunting Grounds – and won as an alliance – so Axel’s feeling the pressure to not only win, but to out-perform his father too.

Their clever manipulation of the alliance system gave them control over the criminal underworld, large sectors of the financial business world and the nation’s politics, and I’m sure Axel is plotting something similar.

Me? I couldn’t care either way. I’d want nothing to do with this bullshit if it wasn’t for Odile.

So where does The Doe come into all of this?

A relatively new addition to the games, The Doe was introduced around a hundred and fifty years back – give or take – as an additional incentive for people to compete. As if absolute power and control wasn’t enough, the introduction of The Doe promised the ultimate prize – the perfect trophy on the winner’s arm.

Up until now, I thought that The Doe’s participation was voluntary. Who wouldn’t want the status and perks that come with being married or aligned to some of the most powerful men in the country? Our mothers certainly reaped the benefits from the last contest, though my mother possibly got a raw deal in the end.

But Odi didn’t ask to play, nor can she back out. I’m not sure what Axel’s thinking but when we win – which is such a given it almost makes a joke out of the whole process – Odi will flip when she learns what it really means to be The Doe.

“Non-negotiables? Obviously The Gods,” Axel replies with a derisive snort. He always dismisses them but I think it’s unwise to underestimate anyone in this game. They”ve already shown an interest in Odile, with their leader, fucking Zeus, making himself known to Odi already at the gym.

It stands to reason that the legacies will be our biggest competition. They’re the sons of the disgruntled parents our fathers beat last time, and they’ll be looking to even out the score and rebalance the scales in their favour.

As if that would ever happen.

“So that’s four spaces taken up, we’re three more. How many slots need filling?” Zie asks with more enthusiasm and interest than I can manage.

“At least thirty but I think we’ll have the fight night round pretty early on to weed out the wheat from the chaff.”

“Whatever that means,” I mumble.

“It means, I’m not having the unworthy anywhere near Odi. Round two will see the numbers halved down to fifteen or twenty, depending on the final count, because I’m not having her in a situation later down the line where she can’t be protected.”

“Okay. Any other legacies?”

“Another eight, all working independently.” He flips open the files, and I stare at the range of faceless strangers. They could be anyone. I’ve never seen them before, and I doubt I’ll memorise their faces anytime soon. “Low on the criminal rung and not really interested in taking part, but forced to because of their family name.”

“Like me,” I grumble deliberately low under my breath.

“So we have fifteen legacies this year? That’s not a lot.” Zie frowns.

“There was a wave of daughters born this generation,” Axel explains with a dismissive wave of his hand.

More fool him, it’s only a matter of time before girls are allowed to compete too, and he could have really made the history books by allowing it this year.

But what Axel wants, Axel gets. Maybe he’s not quite as au fait with killing females as he makes out.

“So we pick another fifteen?” I check.

“Fifteen to thirty. It doesn’t matter so long as we have an even number for some of the challenges.”

“Are we setting the challenges too?” I ask, amused. I mean, this whole thing feels rigged in our favour, so I really don’t see the point in taking it too seriously.

“No. Harry is in charge of everything.”

“Except who takes part.”

“Obviously,” Axel snaps. He hates being questioned almost as much as he hates relinquishing control.

Everyone involved in the game knows that Axel is heading it up, but he has to be careful to ensure that there aren’t any accusations of cheating or rigging once we win. Hence handing power over to Harry when the games begin. I shake my head. Axel’s up to something, and he has no intention of clueing the rest of us in until he deems it necessary, so I let it go. But I suspect that Harry will be less actually in charge and more Axel’s puppet on a string.

“Pass us a stack of files then, may as well get this over and done with.”

“I’ve organised them into categories.”

I snort at Axel. “Of course you have.”

He glowers back. “The red tagged files are potential threats we could take the opportunity to eliminate.”

It’s a large enough pile but of course, not all of our enemies are teenagers on campus, and so it only represents a tiny fraction of what we’re up against out in the real world. Seems pointless to me. I’d rather save our energy for the real threats. “The orange tags are for unsavouries I would like gone for various reasons. The blues could be potential allies. Yellows are valid candidates with the skills required to actually go far in the challenges and potentially join our organisation after graduation. The purple appear to be power-hungry nutters who have volunteered. It’s unlikely they understand what they’re getting into. And anything with a green stamp has been approved by my father – though don’t let that sway you.”

“And the black?” I ask, thumbing through the smallest pile on the coffee table. There’s half a dozen files there at most.

“Rapist scum that we’ll be eliminating one way or another.”

Damn it. I knew I should have thrown the doc’s name in the hat with those bastards.

I settle back with the pile of rapists’ files on my lap, wishing I had some popcorn to enjoy while skimming through their dossiers and planning all of the horrific, twisted ways I will make them pay for their despicable crimes.