Page 171 of Filthy Elites

If Grayson notices, he doesn’t say anything. “How’s it going? Besides the sleep deprivation. Any intel on where they’re keeping you? I know the frat house is empty other than a skeleton crew of members.”

“We’re off campus at some farm, complete with a barn.” I raise an eyebrow. “That the recruits sleep in.”

“Ah,” a smile twitches at his lips, “because you’re goats. Royer’s clever.”

“It’s degrading.”

“Of course. The whole point is to break each of you down into a shell of your former selves and then rebuild you into the perfect Zeta Sig.” He straightens, raking his fingers through his hair. “Any idea where it’s located?”

“No. We’re blindfolded to and from campus and they took our phones.” I unclip the pager from my waistband. “They gave us these.”

Again, he looks impressed. For the first time, I think I can accept he’s one ofthem.

“They’ve definitely covered their bases. Unfortunately, we need to catch these guys in the act.” He rubs the thin layer of stubble on his chin. “No other specifics?”

“There’s a big farmhouse the officers and upper classmen are staying in. The guys have nice rooms. The pledges are out in the barn.”

He frowns. “You’ve seen the rooms?”

I force my voice to stay level. “Miller made me put his clothes away.”

“Hansen?” he asks, and I nod. “Well, that sounds right. He’s never been one to allow an opportunity go by that he can’t exploit.”

I snort. “Seriously.”

He frowns down at me. “You sure none of them have figured out who you are? I know it’s risky. You’ve been around all three of the officers.”

“I’ve kept my distance from Royer. He’s not interested in me.” The room feels warm all the sudden. The sweatshirt I’m wearing is too heavy. “Knox thinks I’m just another goat. Entertaining to boss around. And Miller…”

His eyebrow raises and lips purse. “What about him?”

This could be the moment I get out of this—break free from the chains of my own doing. I could tell Grayson about the abuse, about how he’s using me as his plaything—continuing to blackmail me like he had from day one. But there’s no proof. Just my word against his and if it gets out the lengths I’ve gone to in order to get revenge? Well, I can’t handle another blow like that.

Still, I tell him a semblance of the truth. “He’s chosen me as like… his little bitch for the rest of the week. Made me clean up his room. That kind of thing.”

“It’s common for the officers to pick a pledge to kind of monitor. I guess you got on his radar when you skipped the recruitment process.”

“Great,” I say with a tight smile, “just what I need, another target on my back.”

And Miller pointing his locked and loaded weapon at me.

“Reagan,” Grayson says, taking a step closer. It’s not like the room isn’t tight enough as it is. The space between us cramped. I get a waft of his cologne. It doesn’t smell terrible. “Are you sure everything is okay? If things get dangerous, or too intense, you can let me know. We can call this off.”

I don’t want to call it off. Not now. “I want to see this through,” I tell him. “It’s exhausting and smelly and completely deranged, but I just want to get back at them, and move on with my life.”

He nods, but I see the worry on his face. I may look like a guy, but Grayson thinks I’m weak. I can sense it. And that’s what I’m tired of; these guys thinking I can’t handle anything, that I’m stupid and not strong enough to take what they can dish out.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, giving him a defiant grin. “Bring it on, right?”

Before he can answer, the pager vibrates, and I lift it up to read the screen.

816 Elm Street

2 PM

“Any idea what this is about?” I ask Grayson.

He shakes his head but memorizes the address and time before looking back at me. “Hopefully, it’s something we can use.”

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