“I’m not sure,” she giggle-whispers back. “I just got here two minutes ago.”
I’m about to ask her how the rest of her night at the party was when Jude’s icy voice cuts through the air again.
“Ash, you feel like contributing here? I know you’re eavesdropping.”
Across the common room, Asher Volkov glances up from his phone and sighs heavily. “Not really, man,” he says in a bored tone, running a tattooed hand through his short hair. “I don’t get involved with drama, and I definitely don’t get involved with Kirill’s drama.”
Ohhh, I get it. The target of Jude’s ire is Kirill Tsarenko, heir to the Tsarenko Bratva empire. I knownothingabout him aside from the very public, well-known parts: he rides a very loud motorcycle around campus, has atonof tattoos, apparently sleeps with anything with a pulse, and is quite possibly legit insane.
Jude’s icy blue eyes narrow on Asher. “You’re friends with him, though.”
Asher rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Iknowthe guy. But if you’re looking for insider info, talk to my brother or my cousin. I just told you: I’m not getting involved.”
Asher has become somewhat of a de facto link between The Order and The Reckless, due to his brother Cade being a member of that particular group of lunatics and psychos. With a few exceptions, like Asher and Jude being in The Order, orDrago and his sister Tatiana being in Para Bellum, the more hardcore bratva heirstendto gravitate to The Reckless. It makes sense, given that the president of that club is none other than Adrik Volkov, heir to the Volkov Bratva, Asher’s cousin, and quite possibly the literal Prince of Darkness.
I mean, the guy makes Drago Krylov seemwarm, fuzzy and approachable.
Having a liaison like Asher is pretty useful, since The Reckless are sort of their own entity on campus. The other clubs intersect at times, but Adrik Volkov runs The Reckless like its own dark fiefdom, hanging off the edge of the cliffs like a dragon’s lair.
Asher frowns. “What’s your issue with Kirill?”
Jude doesn’t reply, his steely gaze stabbing out the window as the Machiavellian wheels in his head turn almost visibly.
Plenty of people are scared of Jude, and I totally get why. He’sfreakishlysmart, calculating, and at times, downright sinister. For instance, late last year, some drunk guy at a party tried to get handsy with Aurora, and Jude saw it.
That same guy was later found whimpering in one of the lesser-used faculty parking lots with two smashed-up hands and the phrase “I will keep my hands to myself” written fifty times on the pavement next to him.
…In his ownblood.
Next to me Lucia sighs heavily, and I turn to arch a brow at the dreamy look on her face as she eyes Jude.
“Hon,no,” Wren says, making a sour face and shaking her head. “Just, no.”
Lucia pouts as Jude rolls his neck, shoves his hand through his dark hair, and strides out of the room like a regent.
“But he’ssohot.” She winces and glances at me. “Sorry.”
I shrug. “I’m with Wren, but not because he’s my cousin. He’s…”
“Legitimately sociopathic?” Wren interrupts. “Dude's going to be a fucking Bond villain when he grows up, I swear. For real, Lucia… He’s crazy.”
Lucia sighs. “All the good onesare.”
“Fitting in nicely already, I see.”
We’re all still giggling when we hear Damiano's low bass-toned voice as he steps around the side of the couch.
“Morning, cuz,” Lucia grins. “Okay that I’m crashing your clubhouse?”
Damiano chuckles, running his fingers over his short dark hair. “Please. Already got a room picked out for you for next year, kid.”
“Lay off thekidstuff and I might actually pledge The Order!” Lucia winks.
Damiano chuckles deeply. “It’s adorable that you actually think you’ve got a choice in the matter.”
Lucia looks like she’s got a biting reply in the chamber, but Damiano turns his attention to me, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Lena, can I have a word?”