FORTY-THREE
At the first student house, Chaise walked up to the front door and pressed the bell, not releasing pressure until he heard someone stomping down the hallway, uttering a string of profanities.
The door creaked open and a derelict-looking young man, dressed in a grubby t-shirt and blue shorts, yawned and scratched his mop of wild, unkempt hair. “What the f*****g hell do you want?”
“I want you and all your friends to get out of the house in five minutes.”
“What?” The young man shook his head, frowned deeply. “Who the f*****g hell are you? And what f*****g time do you—”
“Five minutes.” Chaise brought a handgun and waved it under the young man’s nose. “What’s your name?”
“Stefan.”
“Well, Stefan, you’ve got five minutes, or I’ll come back and blow your f*****g head off.”
A li
