Page 37 of Sinful Chains

“We’re not shutting down the fuck—excuse me, the darn Black Student Union!” Dean Gilbert insisted. “I don’t give a damn—darn what Ohio State did. And that was preemptive anyway. They did that cuz they wanted to!”

Provost Brooks nodded vigorously, a sign of her annoyance. “We all agree, Dean Gilbert. Let’s move on.”

“Okay, and I was making it clear,” he snapped. “For the record.”

A beat of silence passed, then a bomb dropped.

“Omega Theta House.”

It was Dean Roberts, a man I’d never rated one way or the other.

I sat forward, my jaw tightening. "It's off-campus and privately owned and operated, so I'm gonna need somebody to explain why it's coming up in thismeeting. And why it wasn't included this agenda," I said, holding up the piece of paper.

“The thinking is this,” Dean Roberts said, adjusting his glasses. “The university still owns the land it sits on. It's valuable land they can make use of. And I've heard tell of a tentative offer being on the table. That's all."

I exhaled slowly, narrowing my eyes. “That property,” I said, my voice calm but firm, “is a vital piece of this university’s history. Just like the Black Student Union. It’s more than just a structure. It’s where students became men. Where they made connections and served the community. And right now, it’s where alumni stay engaged.” I took a deep breath. “Look, I know Omega’s been offline for a while now, but it’s one of the few places affiliated with this campus that still holds real tradition.”

Provost Sinclair cleared his throat. “They’re simply considering the options. A repurpose, maybe—”

“Repurpose," I repeated, leaning back in my chair, spreading my arms over the armrests, exuding a confidence that had suddenly washed over me. “That's a creativeway to say yall wanna use it as an investment piece. Is this a university, or a fucking real estate company? We Keller Williams up in here? What's good?"

The table fell silent. I could feel them sizing me up, calculating, analyzing. I didn’t usually say much in these meetings, especially after my hearings, so this was new.

Dean Roberts sighed. “We’ll take it under advisement.”

“You do that.”

That little promise meant nothing. It never did in these spaces. But it was all good. They'd met their match with me.

I know how to fight, and I know how to win.

On and on they droned about curriculum and student fees and graduation rates and other shit that I had no fucking hand in. Finally, after a few hours of this shit, someone finally said the words all of us wanted to hear.

“Meeting adjourned.”

I pushed back from the table, the legs of my chair scraping against the hardwood. I left without a word to anybody, frustration buzzing in my veins.

I took a pass by my office on my way out, shutting down my computer and grabbing my shit. I made a mental note to check on the progress of my new key card. I hadn’t been able to find mine in a while, and having to wait on security to let me in was a fucking headache.

I checked my email, and yep, there it was. I put in the request a whole fucking month ago, and the status still read PROCESSING.

Now, I was even more irritated.

Outside, the summer heat blasted me in the face, making my already sour mood even worse. I pulled out my phone, debating whether to call Cruz or Titan, but as I rounded the corner, my eyes landed on Santari.

She stood near the quad, her arms folded in front of her, staring at the founder’s fountain like she was in a trance. She seemed to sense me, glancing up before I could reach her. She smiled, and my bad mood waned slightly.

“Hey, you. What’s wrong?”

I exhaled sharply. “First of all, you’re beautiful.”

She tilted her head, her features softening. “Storm.”

“Second of all, the house was on the table in that meeting back there. You just might get your wish after all.”

Her lips parted, but I didn’t stick around for a response. I kept walking toward the parking lot. I needed time to think.

Miami is the perfect place to drive around with your problems riding shotgun. It’s a vibrant mix of big city energy and seaside tranquility. The air is thick and humid. The breeze is cool and salty. Music and voices are everywhere. The smell of food greets you around every corner. It’salivehere.

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