Page 205 of Filthy Elites

“I’m not sure, but Miller is the smartest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.” His hands move down my neck, rubbing circles with his thumbs. “Whatever you think you have on him? He’s got double.”

A chill runs up my spin. It could be from Knox’s firm touch or the cooling of the water, but I know better. No one knows about Miller’s involvement but me, and now Knox. I never told Grayson. For some insane reason, I protected him, which means that he possibly has the upper hand.Why? Why did I do that?

Knox’s hands travel down to my shoulders, fingers pushing into the upper part of my chest. The movement causes my breasts to bob in the water, nipples cresting the surface of the water before dipping back under again. The peaks are pebbled, hard and erect from the cool air and Knox’s strong touch. His wet fingers trail under my chin, tilting my face upward. I open my eyes, looking into his bold green ones. He thumbs my bottom lip, parting my mouth before bending and brushing his lips across mine.

“Jesus,” he says, “you’re sexy as fuck, you know that?”

There’s no response to that, and he doesn’t seem to expect one, kissing me again and dipping his hand under the water to cup my breast. His fingers discover my nipples, tugging and twisting the firm flesh. My back arches, heat building in my belly. I shouldn’t want this—or him—but my body never does what my mind wants.

Knox pulls away with a sigh, dragging his hand out of the water. “As much as I want to, I need to stop.”

I try to calm my breathing. “Why?”

“I didn’t clear it with Miller.”

I blink. “That was for real?”

“I promised him. He told me to take care of you. He didn’t tell me to kiss you.” His eyes dart to my tits. “Or touch you like that.”

“Oh.” I slide back to a sitting position. “Okay.”

He leans over, dropping his hand into the water at the end of the tub. The drain gurgles and bubbles under the surface. “Once this is empty, take a rinse off shower. I’ll send a goat to get your things from the barn.”

“Right.” My skin burns and not just from the water. I feel it inside and out. “Thank you.”

He stands. “This will be over soon. Tonight’s the last night. From there, we’ll figure out what we’re going to do with you.”

He exits the bathroom, leaving me in the draining water. I pull my knees to my chest, feeling lost and confused. I thought I was in control of this, that I was the one with the power, but what Knox said about Miller is terrifying.

What if he has one up on me and Grayson? What if all of this has been for nothing?

One thing is for sure, after tonight we’ll know. I just don’t know who will come out on top.

TWENTY-SIX

Reagan

Clean and in fresh clothes, I curl up on Knox’s bed while he works on his laptop. I feel better since my bath, my muscles loose and the sensation in my backside less raw. I shouldn’t feel comfortable with this man—not after what transpired earlier in the day, but I’m too worn out to fight anymore. After tonight everything will be over, and I can move on with my life. I pull the blanket over my shoulders and drift off to the steady tapping of Knox’s fingers on the keyboard.

It’s a creaking sound that wakes me, and I blink into the dark room. Knox’s room, I remind myself. I rise up but a gloved hand wraps around my mouth. “Don’t fight,” someone whispers in my ear, before wrapping a blindfold over my eyes and cinching my wrists with a tie. The words remind me of what Knox said to me in the parlor, telling me not to fight as he pushed inside. I bite down on a cry as the plastic cuts into my skin, but don’t struggle as I’m hauled out of bed and dragged into the hall.

Footsteps echo in the hallway, but other than that, there’s no sound. I’m lifted off the ground by two strong arms and carried down the stairs. It’s gentler than I’d expect, and I wonder if it’s Miller or Knox. I say a silent thanks that whoever it is didn’t just kick me down the stairs.

A moment later we’re outside, the crickets loud in the rural night. I hear the unmistakable sound of a van door sliding open, and I’m tossed in against the hard floor. Other than the sound of my body slamming into the floor, the men kidnapping me are completely silent. I wait, catching my breath, for other goats to get thrown in the back with me. After a beat, there’s nothing but the sound of the closing van door, followed by the two front doors slamming shut.

I wait for anything—something to clue me in on what to expect, but the driver cranks up the car and the radio and blasts the music so loud that the walls of the vehicle shake. I can’t see anything or hear anything. I’m alone, but maybe this is part of the initiation. We go at it solo? We meet our new brothers at the end?

Gravel crunches under the tires and the van lurches to a stop, music cutting off at the same time. Outside I hear muffled voices—the first since I was told not to fight. I can only make out the scattered word…stupid. Bullshit. I told you…

The door is thrown open, slamming into the jamb and, to my surprise, I feel my feet stuffed into my shoes, then I’m yanked out. The air smells clean. Fresh. Like nature.

“Your mission tonight,” someone says, voice disguised so I can’t make it out, “forty-seven is to climb the mountain of brotherhood. The path, like life, is filled with obstacles. Overcome those, climb to the top and you’ll be rewarded for all your hard work and efforts this week.”

Someone touches my chin, and the scent of bitter alcohol assaults my nostrils. “Drink up,” I’m told, the rim of a glass—a shot glass—pressed against my lips. I open my mouth and accept the liquor, swallowing it down. It burns and I cough. For the first time, I speak. “Can I take off the blindfold?”

“Once you get on the trail.”

A hand grips my forearm, and I take uneasy steps over the rugged terrain. Other than our footsteps, it’s hauntingly quiet. If there are other goats out here, they’re either silent or we’re doing this in shifts. That or this whole thing is some stupid prank. Whatever it is, I know this journey is the way out of here. It’s a means to an end.

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