Page 208 of Filthy Elites

“What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, grappling with me. He grazes my chin with his knuckles, slicing the skin with the edge of his frat ring. I manage to pin him down. Using every ounce of my weight to hold him down. He grunts and fights against me. “What the hell, Miller?”

“You had your chance, asshole,” I say, punching him in the face. It’s enough to get the upper hand, grabbing his shoulders and slamming them down on the granite. “And you fucked it up. You’re going to get the charter revoked, the frat shut down, the police knocking on our doors. Why? Just so you can prove you’re a better sadistic monster than the rest of us?” I stare down into his bruised, entitled face. “I’m not letting you take me down, Royer, and I’m sure as fuck not letting you put your dick anywhere near my girl’s mouth.”

“Your what?” His jaw drops, and he barks out a laugh, spraying blood in the air. “Oh, this is classic Miller Hansen. Falling for my sloppy seconds. God, you’re fucking—”

A foot slams into his side, knocking the breath out of him. I look up and see Reagan rearing back to kick him, or maybe this time, me. I hop out of her way and this one lands on his stomach. He rolls over to his side, groaning in pain.

She stumbles and I reach out to catch her, gripping her by the waist.

“Are you okay?” I ask, wiping the dirt off her forehead.

“What did you say to him?” she asks. “What did you call me?”

Footsteps echo off the rock and lights flash, glaring blindingly.

“Get your hands off of her!” a voice shouts—a man. I release Reagan and shield my eyes from the light, trying to see the man behind the glare. Grayson. I’d sent him my location an hour ago, but out here service is spotty. I had no idea if it went through.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. “Never again.”

A cop comes from behind, jerking me back, snapping cuffs on my wrists. Royer is dragged off the ground and I spot Knox, already cuffed, waiting at the edge of the clearing.

Grayson rushes to Reagan, eyes scanning from head to toe. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Don’t touch me,” she says, backing away warily.

“He didn’t know,” I tell her, realizing she’s afraid that he’s still one of us. “I just told that to Royer to try to get him to stop.”

“I didn’t,” he promises. She holds out for one moment longer, then bursts into tears, lunging for him. My heart aches as I see her curl into him, jealousy stabbing like a knife. I’d told Royer she was mine, but I know it isn’t true. I don’t deserve her.

“We got Rat and Andrea,” Grayson says to me. “Blocked them on the way down the road. It’s why it took us so long to get up here. We had to hike the rest of the way.”

“Good.” I get out before the cop behind me wrenches my arms and drags me back. I catch Reagan’s eye, knowing whatever apologies, excuses, or bullshit I want to give her is never going to happen. I meant what I said: I’m never going to hurt Reagan Lake again.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Reagan

“I brought you some clean clothes.” I look up and see Grayson in the hospital room doorway, holding a paper bag.

“Thanks.”

I’d been subjected to an exam. Not just for injuries, but for evidence, to confirm my side of the story. They checked for bruises, tested my blood alcohol level. They asked if I was sexually assaulted. I said no. What I did with Miller and Knox may have straddled the line of consent, but I accept my part. I wanted it. I wanted them and I couldn’t pretend differently.

After a long week of raw exposure, lying under the harsh blue light and having nurses and detectives examine my body felt intimately worse.

I peer into the bag, seeing a few items from my—Theo’s—dorm room. Grayson is quiet, but I sense the questions he wants to ask. Too bad for him. I’m asking first.

“How long did you know?” I blurt. “About Miller?”

He sits in the mint green chair in the corner. “I’d suspected for a while that something was going on. Miller isn’t especially altruistic. When it became obvious through the video feed that he was helping you through the tasks, I knew he had to be getting something in return. I confronted him that day you saw us together on campus, but he didn’t admit anything.” He picks at the frayed cuff of his shirt. “I didn’t know for sure until he sent me the message tonight.”

“Did you see what happened in the parlor?”

The tips of his ears turn red. “I think I have a pretty good idea. I saw them get out the paddle and then you were alone with Knox—at least until the video went black.” Only because the shirt fell over the pin’s camera. “I know the history of using that paddle on pledges and we tripled our efforts to find you. It gave me the evidence I needed to get the police involved, and they were able to track down the farm through property records. Miller’s father is good, but his fingerprints were all over the purchase of that property. Unfortunately, we just got there too late.” His expression is one of disappointment and frustration. “By the time we raided the farm, you were gone. The other goa—recruits—were clueless. When I got the video of you alone in the dark, I was terrified for you.” He tents his fingers together and stares at them. “I knew they were bad, Reagan. I just had no idea they would go to that level. Thank god Miller was able to send me the geo-tag with your location.”

I think about it all, how angry Royer had been and how if they hadn’t shown up—honestly, if Miller hadn’t come back for me, what could have happened. Royer didn’t just want to hurt me, he wanted me dead. I shiver and wrap my arms around my waist.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” Grayson asks. I nod, knowing I owe him a few truths. “Why did you go along with Miller?”

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