Theirs to Possess And Ruin

Evelyn “I’m so f*****g screwed,” I mutter, weaving through the crowded hallway with Braxon’s gear bag hanging off my shoulder. Students clump around lockers, drift toward their next class, laugh in loose knots I have to cut through just to keep moving. None of them notice me. None of them ever do. “He is going to kill me.” I’m late again. Second time this week. Their practice starts in fifteen minutes, and ever since I became the triplets’ personal assistant, which was not out of my free will, I’ve learned the rule fast: never be tardy, or I’ll be punished. Or worse, fired. And I can’t afford to be fired. At least not right now, when my academic life is finally beginning to take a good turn. My job is to run their errands at school, which means making sure they never have to touch anything themselves. I carry their gear bags, make sure their equipment is cleaned after every practice and game. If it were possible to write their exams for them, I know they’d make me do that too. My entire survival as a scholarship student at this elite university rests in their hands, and they seize every opportunity to remind me I hadn’t gotten here on merit. I got here because their father wrote the check. The locker room is quiet when I reach it, except for a strange sound coming from somewhere inside, past the rows of lined-up lockers. Soft. Muffled. Coming from the changing room at the back. Someone is crying. *Is he bullying someone again,* I think. Brax is the worst of the three Kensington brothers. A monster who takes pleasure in hurting people, like it feeds something in him that nothing else can. I take a breath, knowing I might get punished for barging in, and push the changing room door open anyway. I need to see who he’s tearing apart this time. I freeze in the doorway. Virah is braced against the wall, Braxon’s hands gripping her hips as he drives into her from behind. The gear bag slips off my shoulder and hits the floor with a thud that sounds impossibly loud in the sudden silence. My mouth falls open. I can’t move, can barely breathe. They jerk apart. “What the f**k, you fat freak?” Braxon snaps, yanking his shirt down. Virah smooths her skirt as she shoots me a disdainful glare. I should run. My legs won’t listen. “Oh my God. I didn’t. I’m so sorry.” The words tumble out of me, stupid and useless. “I was just bringing your bag, I didn’t mean to—” “Get the f**k out!” His voice cracks off the tiled walls. I bolt out of the changing room, pulling the door shut behind me, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it hurts. I’m still in the locker room, weaving fast past the long rows of lockers, needing distance more than I need an exit. “Jesus Christ, Brax.” Virah’s voice carries through the door as I flee. “Keep your little errand girl on a leash. Can’t believe she ruined our fun.” “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll deal with her later.” My heart aches, from seeing the boy I’ve loved for the better part of my life f*****g another woman. I knew he f****d around, changed women like his underwear, but not once had I seen him ball deep in any of them. It shouldn’t hurt. At least knowing he’d never really looked at me like someone he found attractive. I’ve seen myself enough times in the mirror. Fat, with extra skin hanging around my stomach. I’ve seen the girls he sleeps with too. Slender girls who look like they belong on runways. I don’t wait to hear more of what they’re saying. I round the end of the lockers at a near run and collide with something solid enough to knock the air out of me. Mason. I stumble back, and his hand shoots out to steady me by the elbow, not out of kindness, I know, but because a fallen scholarship girl in the locker room would raise questions he doesn’t want to answer. His ice blue eyes drop to me, that familiar arrogant smirk already tugging at his mouth. “Look who I found, Zane.” He doesn’t let go of my arm. “Our little pet.” I look past him and see Zane leaning against the lockers, wearing the same infuriating smirk his brother has, like it had been issued to all three of them at birth. They are, infuriatingly, beautiful. All three of them. Campus golden boys, hockey royalty, the kind of notorious that comes with a warning label. Everyone knows the Kensington triplets don’t sleep with the same girl twice. It’s practically a school tradition to keep count. “Where are you running off to, little Eve?” Zane asks, pushing off the lockers to close the distance between us. “I have to get to class,” I say, keeping my eyes on the floor, on anything that isn’t them. “I’m already late.” “We have practice and you’re meant to be there,” Mason says, tilting his head, studying me the way he might study something he’d stepped in. “You’re not going to class. You’ll be in that bleacher, smiling and cheering, I don’t care what it costs you.” Great. Just great. Another day fighting for my life in the hands of these cruel monsters. Another day missing class, knowing if I fail one more exam I could kiss my scholarship goodbye. “Mason, please, I really have to—” He places his finger against my lips, cutting me off, walking me backward until the locker hits my spine and he cages me in. “Shhh, kitten.” His eyes drop to where his finger rests, and he visibly swallows. “You only speak when I tell you to. That’s one of the rules.” Yeah. The rules. How could I forget my life has been carefully written down by them, down to how and when I’m allowed to breathe. f*****g assholes. But I don’t argue. I can’t, even if I’d wanted to. I just nod. “Good girl.” Heat floods through me at the praise, from where his finger is and from how close he’s standing. I hate that my body doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. His finger on my lips, the way he’s looking at my mouth like he wants to kiss me. Or is he going to kiss me? Oh my God, I think he might. Our lips are inches apart, any movement from either of us and they’d clash. I close my eyes, expecting his lips to touch mine. I tip up, reaching for him. “What are you doing?” he asks, and I snap my eyes open to meet his. “Did you think I was going to kiss you?” He laughs, taking a step back. “In your dreams.” I clear my throat, embarrassed. “I didn’t think that. Why would I want to kiss you? Yuck!” “You’re soaked right now, aren’t you, Eve,” Zane accuses, stepping in closer. “I can smell exactly how drenched he made you.” “Aren’t you such a little slut,” Mason says, “getting wet when I haven’t even touched you.” “I’m not.” The word comes out too fast. “Zane is saying nonsense.” “Really?” Zane’s laugh is dark and low as he closes the last of the distance between us. He catches both my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head against the locker, his grip firm enough that struggling only makes it tighter. “Then you won’t mind if I check.”