Maybe that was when the switch flipped. When I stopped assuming people meant what they said — and started learning how to find what they didn’t.
So I got good at digging. At pulling threads. At spotting the fraying seams in someone’s carefully crafted version of the truth.
And Zeta Gamma Gamma’s version? It looked really fucking polished. But I could see the fray. I just needed one loose stitch to unravel it all.
I felt nauseous — this was big. Too big. The kind of big that settled deep in your gut and made everything feel too loud, too bright, too close.
I swallowed hard, pressing my palms into the edge of the desk, hoping it would keep me grounded. My hands were trembling, just slightly.
I was one fucking person. One exhausted, furious, not-quite-okay person trying to dig through a mountain of rot with a damn teaspoon.
My gaze fell to a note wedged between two receipts. It was Dom’s handwriting, hastily scrawled on the back of a flyer.
In case no one reminded you today, you’re hot, terrifying, and probably right. Go get ’em, Goddess.
I rolled my eyes when he left it on the counter for me after flashing me that casual, careless grin, like he couldn’t imagine a version of me doubting myself.
As if he hadn’t been around long enough to see what people did when they decided the girl on the pedestal didn’t deserve to stay there.
My fingers grazed the edge of the paper, as if it might steady me. My phone was within reach. Opening our message thread, I stared blankly at the blinking cursor.
I could tell him. Could let someone in for once, justoneperson.
But I never typed out the words buzzing through my head. I didn’t let myself. Tucking my phone face down beneath a stack of papers, I got back to work.
I’d printed out a stack of the most damning files to help me visualize the whole mess. I smoothed out the forged receipt and taped it to the wall beside the other evidence.
The adhesive was putting up a fight; the corner curled under my thumb, as if even the lie itself were resisting being part of this puzzle.
“Not enough to burn them,” I said softly, the words for no one but myself. My jaw clenched as I took a step back, studying the incomplete picture, the bones of the truth still waiting to be unearthed.
“Yet.”
Twenty Seven
Dom
With classes officially underway, all the freshman nonsense to navigate, and the season kicking off, I was more than a little swamped.
It took me longer to adjust than I’d expected — my body wasn’t exactly thrilled about the extra training, either.
I’d wanted to go back to Sierra’s room the very next night, craving a repeat of that rush — the thrill of the forbidden — even if she’d technically given me permission.
That first time had been a serious gamble, but I knew it would pay off the second I heard what she told my sister.
If she ever found out I’d been eavesdropping on their little girl’s night, she’d have my balls. But holy hell, that conversation had been a gold mine.
Standing under that balcony in the dark, my mind kept flashing back to our first night — how unsure she’d been, how she’d pulled back like she didn’t want to want me.
“If you were my girl, I’d never fucking leave this pussy. I’d be fucking you every chance I get, waking you up with my cock every morning. I’d live in this delicious little fuckhole.”
“I wouldn’t mind that.”
“You’d want that? Me fucking you in your sleep? Just take you without asking?”
And then … that pause. That sharp inhale before she told Ella “No comment” when asked if she wanted her brother.
No comment.
