The Sinner: A Dark College Romance

I SLAP THE guy that I’ve tied to the chair. His head snaps to the right before popping up. He blinks, green eyes looking around aimlessly before they land on mine. “What—” He jerks on the rope that ties his hands to the back of the chair and his ankles to the legs.

I slap him again just because I can.

“Fuck,” he cries, looking up at me. His eyes go large, and he gasps. Sitting rigid, he looks from me to Tyson, who stands beside me, Turning back to me, his face drains of color. “Sin … you’re dead.”

“You wish.” I punch him in the face so hard this time it knocks the chair back, pinning his arms behind it.

His screams fill the large room and I walk over to him. Pressing my shoe into his stomach, I hold him down. And just to add more weight, I lean my body into it, placing my forearm on my thigh.

“St-op.” He’s gasping. “Please.”

“Where are the Spade brothers?” I ignore him. I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. They called me. But when we arrived, Amelia is dead wearing a mask and we find the other two masked men to be Chance and Holland—shit’s not adding up.

“Who?” He grits his teeth, tilting this head back and screaming once again. His body fighting the position it’s in with no such luck.

“I’m going to slit your fucking throat and watch you drown in your own blood if you don’t start talking,” I warn, pressing my foot farther into his stomach, smashing his arms underneath the chair. I hope I fucking break them. “Tyson.” I reach out my free hand and he hands me an open pocketknife.

I reach across Chance’s chest, placing the tip of the blade into his neck right below his ear and get about an inch before he’s screaming.

“Stop. Stop. Stop. Please. Okay. Okay.” He’s crying.

I smile when I see the small trail of blood running down the side of his neck to the carpet beneath him. “Where are the Spade brothers?” Let’s start with something easy. I should have known that wasn’t them when we stepped out of the hallway. The brothers aren’t that fucking stupid.

“I don’t know who that is.” He’s sobbing, spit flying from his mouth, only to land on his face. “I … swear.”

I look up at Tyson and he shrugs. A quick look at Holland and he’s still out of it. His face busted up pretty good from Tyson’s gun to his face.

“Okay, let’s try this.” I push off his stomach and he takes in a deep breath before sobbing at the heavy weight now gone. “Why the fuck is Amelia dead at the bottom of the stairs?”

“Elli killed her.” He confirms what I already thought.

“Did you have something to do with that?” Otherwise, why would that bitch fucking be here.

He nods.

“Explain it to me,” I demand.

Chance swallows. “Your father came to me. Demanded I make sure that you don’t pursue Elli.”

“Was this before or after you made a deal with me?” I wonder.

Closing his eyes tightly, he lets out a soft sob. “Before.”

“So that’s why you came to me.” I nod, giving a rough laugh. “You made a deal with my father and pretended to help me out.”

“I was always supposed to marry her,” he rushes out. “Back when James was alive. Him and Linc would bring me in … make me watch.”

“What the fuck do you mean make you watch?” I shout. Something tells me he had no problem watching her do anything.

“James would wait until she got fucked up. He’d order her around. Make her a fucking slave and she’d do anything he wanted. They had me watch because Linc said he was training her for me.”

I take a few steps, closing the small space between us, and kick him in the fucking face like I’m a kicker for an NFL team and this game depends on me.

His head snaps to the side, blood splattering across the floor. He begins to choke on it, body convulsing.

Reaching down, I pick up the chair and bring it upright. I grip his busted face, pinching his bloody skin and demand, “Keep going.” The one thing that I’m glad I kept a secret was that me and Elli were married. I called her my wife a few times here and there to him, but he never seemed to have taken it seriously. Now I know why. He thought all along he was going to get my girl. “Talk.” I shake his face and he spits blood out of his split lip.

“Me … and Amelia set you and Elli up,” deep breath, “at Blackout that night. I gave her the video she needed to confront Elli with in the bathroom. I needed Elli pissed at you. If so, she’d throw herself at someone else. Therefore, pissing you off in return.” He cries softly. “She wasn’t going to walk away from you. I needed you to walk away from her.”

I think about his words for a second. “My sister mentioned the video.” He fucking whimpers. “I even asked you what she meant about James and Linc, and you said you didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” He sobs, body shaking uncontrollably.

“I know.” Letting go of his face, I slap his chest. “But why here? Why tonight? You said you thought I was dead.” I rub my chin.

He nods, sniffling. “I got a message that you were dead…”

“Who the fuck from?” I demand, making him jump.

“It was an unknown number.” He cries. “I thought it was the Lords.”

“And?”

“And I called Holland, wondering if he was the one who sent it.” He stops to take a breath. “He said no but that he owed Elli for what you did to Marcus because of her. And since you were dead…” Trailing off, he doesn’t finish that sentence. But I can connect the dots.

I take the pocketknife in my hand and stab him in the thigh. He throws his head back, screaming. “Focus, Chance.” I slap his bloody face enough to get his attention. “Pay attention.”

His bloodshot eyes meet mine, drool running from his busted lips while he bares his teeth at the pain. I remove the knife, making him sob. “Then what? How did you know she was here?”

“We’ve been waiting for her to return home for over an hour. Me and Holland were here. Amelia was at the other house. We knew once she was notified you were dead, she’d return home to one of them.” Sucking in a deep breath, he hangs his head.

I look at Tyson, who has remained silent as I get the information I needed, and he finally speaks, “What is she on right now?’

“Ec-stasy,” comes his shaky voice.

“Did you lace it with anything?” I ask through gritted teeth. I don’t want her going through another two days of hell like the last time she went out. That was torture for her and for me, not being able to help her. Being helpless to the one you love is a different kind of hell.

“No.” He looks up at me through his wet lashes and I arch a brow. “I promise. We just wanted her…”

“Wanted her what?” Tyson snaps, ready to get this over with.

“Begging.” He hangs his head. “Not dead.”

“Tyson.” I nod to Chance, and he walks behind him.

Chance’s head snaps up, wide eyes on mine. “I didn’t know,” he rushes out. “You were dead.”

“Yet here I am.” I hold my arms out wide.

Tyson grabs a hold of Chance’s hair and yanks his head back. I run the tip of the blade slowly across his neck, doing exactly what I told him I’d do. Stepping back, I watch the bastard bleed out onto the floor with a smile on my face.