Page 111 of Stutter

I pull my phone out and bring up the app that pinpoints her exact location. Maybe I wasn’t able to drug her while her giant lap dog was around but downloading a secret parent app to her phone that connected to my burner while she was busy injecting the wine, was almost too easy.

The hard part had been sticking around to see Jonas rip open her little body suit, yank her tits out and fuck her like a rabid dog fresh off its leash, watch him FaceTime the other two while he fucked her bare, and dumped his entire load into her pussy, slurp it out then spit it on her asshole to take her ass, watching her climax for him over and over until she was a quivering mess made me burn alive with envy.

But I’m a patient man.

It’ll be us in the end.

Like it was always meant to be.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jonas.

I manage to grab Maverick by the shirt collar before he goes tumbling down the freaky secret staircase.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

I nod, continuing down, shivering when I realize the temperature has dropped incredibly the farther we get down.

“Now I know why those kids died back in the seventies getting down here and they closed it off.”

Wrong. They closed it off because too many people were becoming curious as to why the SDC house was hosting secret parties in the woods. So they created this secret entryway to get to the underground room before they were able to build tunnels connecting it from the morgue in the medical department. Those kids died here because they discovered something they shouldn’t have.

I always knew this was here, I just didn’t know how to get into it. Now I do.

And I hate it. It feels like there’s someone behind us watching our every move. I think Mav feels it too, because he tenses every few steps down. We reach the bottom step, looking at the bottom of the doors to see which one looks like the most used. One of them leads underground. I do not want to go underground. I spend enough time there as it is.

Spotting the one with the least amount of dust accumulated like our girl said we would, I turn off the flashlight from my phone, darken the screen, shove it in my pocket and turn the door handle.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Mav murmurs.

“Expecting fog and spooky synthesizer music? Bats?”

Mav holds back a laugh. “I mean, from the journey thus far – yeah, kind of.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “C’mon, let’s get this over with. You have your low light?” I ask, pulling mine out form my jacket pocket.

“Yeah,” he says, doing the same, clicking it on and we close the book-door behind us.

He leads me to the biography section, where Raven said she found it the first time around, and sure enough, glad I have my gloves on, I take the fucking thing and shove it in my backpack. I’ll be burning it, too.

We leave the same way we came in, taking the stairs up and out of the Monroe library.

At home, we’re sitting around the table in the den when I pull it out and place it on the table, the urge to retch growing stronger the longer I stare at it. Damon already had a fire going by the time we got back, slinking off RMU’s campus like a couple of shadows.

Maverick reaches out to touch it.

“NO!” We collectively scream.

He pulls his arm back like we burned him. “What kind of binding is that?”

“S-s-skin.” Raven replies and Mav stares at it in horror.

I sigh. “The story goes like this – Back in 1907, there were six men, the fifth generation of Rayne-Moore’s founding fathers. They wanted something that would tie them together. Something more than just a fraternity or memories of their time here, so they began the Syndicate. It wasn’t murders at first. It was just your run of the mill fancy secret parties in secret locations. Only the elite were allowed. There was another guy, Jacobson,” I point to the leathered flesh-book, “That wouldn’t shut up about it. Started just inviting everyone… people of… “lower” class. People thatweren’t even students here. And the others weren’t happy about it, not to mention, this guy was a fucking skid mark of the group. Some say rape, some say he was gay, which back then, you know… Nobody knows exactly what happened, or how he ended up dead, just that he did.” I reach over and flip to the very first page.

1907 - D. Jacobson – J. Prescott, S. Monroe, A. Anderson, L. Rayne, T. Moore

“They were the first to get away with murder.” Damon concludes.

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