Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Actually, that reason is aggression. Something Kane can rise above but we can’t.
“If you’re done fighting like chickens, get dressed, Jude. I don’t have all night.”
Kane leaves first, and I throw on my sweatpants and shirt in record time before following him to the coach’s office down the hall of Vipers Arena—the pride and joy of Graystone University and, honestly, the entire town of Graystone Ridge.
We were born and bred here, raised in this pocket of wealth where centuries-old tradition collides with modern edge.
A place where old money doesn’t fade—it evolves, sharpens, and makes sure everyone remembers who built this town.
I find Kane leaning against the desk, staring at his phone with a tilted head and a hooded expression.
Not sure who or what captured his attention, but it’s bad news for the other party. While it’s true that he’s calm and collected, like all of us, he was born with a demon lurking inside him.
“Sorry I’m late!” Preston barges in behind me. “Not really sorry, but anyway. I’m here now. You’re welcome, bitches.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” I grunt as I close the door he left wide open.
“Nonsense. Everything has to do with me.” He grins, trudging to Kane’s side and hitting his shoulder. “What’s the plan? And don’t be boring.”
Kane doesn’t acknowledge either of us for a while, still staring at his phone.
Even though Kane is the captain, he shouldn’t have free access to the coach’s office.
In theory, at least.
In practice, the three of us have unrestricted access—not just to Graystone University, or GU, but to the entire town of Graystone Ridge.
Our clearance comes in the form of the black ring on each of our index fingers.
They’re more than just symbols of status. They’re proof that we belong—not only to the founding families of this town, but to the secret society that shadows it.
Vencor.
Callahan. Davenport. Armstrong. Osborn.
The four pillars of Graystone Ridge. The originators of Vencor. The ones who’ve held this place together—and in their grip—for generations.
The black rings mean we’re Senior members.
The highest rank attainable for anyone outside of direct bloodlines.
Trial, Member, Senior, and Founder.
That’s the order.
And while we currently hold Senior status, we’re in the final stretch. After graduation, we’ll face our last trial and ascend to the position we were always meant to inherit.
Founder.
Kane taps his index finger against the back of his phone. His ring bears the Davenport family crest—a compass rose. It’s a symbol of control, steering direction, and navigating dominance. Fitting, considering the Davenports have monopolized the import and export industry.
I twirl my own ring slowly.
It’s etched with the Callahan crest—a caduceus twisted in thorny vines.
A corrupted version of the medical symbol.
It represents our family’s unrelenting grip on the pharmaceutical sector. Hell, ever since my brother, Julian, took over the Callahan empire, we’ve become unrivaled.
Pres wears the Armstrong crest—a sun and a crescent moon. A nod to his family’s hold on energy, in all its forms.
Then there are the Osborns. They don’t currently have a college-aged member—at least, not officially—but their crest is a lion’s head framed with gears, reflecting their control over real estate, construction, and every inch of urban development in this town.
Over the centuries, the four families learned to carefully and calculatedly share power.
That uneasy balance eventually gave birth to Vencor, the society we now oversee.
It’s through Vencor that we’ve built our empire—recruiting, shaping, and eliminating as needed. Ensuring that Graystone Ridge stays exactly the way it was always meant to be and that our legacy never dies.
“What the hell are you watching?” Pres peers over Kane’s shoulder. “Is it porn? If yes, why am I not invited?”
Kane slips his phone into his pocket and shoves Pres away. “Why are you even here?”
Pres releases an exasperated sigh. “You keep asking that, and yet you can’t live without me.”
“Highly debatable.”
“You little ungrateful cretin—”
“Anyway.” Kane slides his attention to me. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I need another name from the list,” I speak in a calm tone I don’t feel.
He raises a brow. “You already took care of Violet?”
My throat constricts, and I feel the veins popping in my neck, my muscles tightening and sporadic fire spreading across my skin.
At just the mention of her name.
All their names.
And she is just another fucking name.
“It’s time for the next name,” I say, ignoring his question.
“What the fuck!” Preston jumps up. “Why haven’t I been on this Violet’s hunt, big man? I thought we were bros, but then you go on killing sprees without inviting me?”
“There was no hunt.” Kane tilts his head to the side. “Was there?”
“That’s none of your business. Give me the next name.”
“Whoa. Hold up.” Pres stalks toward me, then circles me. “You mean to tell me you’ve had this Violet’s name for a while, and it didn’t result in a hunt? Blink once if you’ve been possessed.”