Page 12 of His Last Will

Brodie and Aiden were invited before they even graduated high school just a little over four years ago, with their last name granting them immediate entrance. I was invited to attend based on my academic record, but I’m pretty sure what swayed my invite was my residence and proximity to the Araneae family. I practically killed myself to succeed because my academic record was the only thing of value that was truly mine, and nobody could take it away.

I had only ever heard of one person rejecting the invite, and rumors were the family fell on hard times soon after, and their name and reputation were erased from high society.

The world's most sought-after professors held positions at the university. The curriculum is brutal, and the assignments are demanding. But graduating from VHU guaranteed you top jobs in whatever field you desired. The connections you made here gave you access to a world most people would kill to be in.

University programs included everything from business, pre-med, and pre-law to art, dance, and design.

I got accepted on the finance track, which Brodie was ecstatic about. I could handle finances, which he thought was a tedious time suck and abhorrent. Plus, this way, I could cook the books when needed and make sure no one was trying to undercut us. It gave me a purpose within The Order outside of breeding, which is the track everyone else had placed me on. Vomit.

The next Fortune 500 CEOs were sitting in lectures while they traded stocks. Future Hollywood actors and Broadway stars graced the hallways, making our events the most sought-after by talent scouts.

Among the wealthiest and most elite crowd also stood the world’s best athletes. Olympic medalists, world record holders, and future professional athletes made up the teams on campus. The university would accept nothing less.

But the most prestigious team you could be on was the hockey team. Hockey culture ran deep on campus. The team had won the championship almost every year for a century. They played viciously and with more bloodshed than any other team in the league.

Their games were closer to bloodbaths than actual hockey games. Violence thrived, and no one stopped it. Hockey ruled the university, and everyone else toed the line.

The only team that ever managed to beat us was Bishop University. Bishop U was the closest campus to us on the other side of town. They recruited students and athletes we referred to as the second-class. Parents who paid their children’s way into school and essentially bought their education. I’m not even sure most of them attended any classes at all.

The arena dedicated to the hockey team did not share the space with anyone else. It had all the bells and whistles, including private training rooms, a gym that would be most athletes’ wet dream, and a full-time staff. Some professional players had even commented on their envy of VHU’s hockey arena.

Brodie and Aiden had grown up playing hockey. It started as a way to work out their untapped aggression and grew into an obsession. For the first three and a half years, Brodie led the team to three straight championships. If he wasn’t with me or doing work for The Order, he was on the ice practicing. Fuck, murder, skate, or something like that.

While Brodie enjoyed the strategy, the mind games, the speed, Aiden was the aggressor. Fighting, adrenaline, and blood were his bread and butter. And if people got to watch him do that, even better. The man thrived on having eyes on him.

After Brodie died, Aiden became captain. It’s like a light switched off in him, he became even more dangerous, more competitive, and things got even bloodier.

And since the asshole wasn’t in his morgue or at the house, I knew where to find him.

“What in the ever-loving fuck, Aiden?!” I scream across the ice as he skates around the empty arena. I have not calmed down after the utter shitshow this past weekend. A shitshow, because what else would you call that dramatic display of him getting down on one knee in front of everyone?

Un-fucking-believable is what it is.

Locking myself in my room for the rest of the weekend did not calm me down as I’d hoped. All it allowed me to do was relive the proposal over and over again, anger overpowering my grief for the first time since Brodie died.

I look down at the ring on my finger and feel nausea bubbling in my stomach. The bastard matched the ring to my collar. A collar currently buried six feet underground with Brodie. I could still feel the ghost of the delicate chain around my neck. A silent reminder that even with Brodie gone, I still belonged to him.

Aiden stops skating and looks over at me. His eyes are hidden from me beneath his helmet, but his jaw is firm, and his lips are set in a straight line. Clearly not happy to see me. Same. Fucking same.

Lifting his stick, he slaps the puck hard into the net. “What did you expect, Ari? The ring is typically a requirement for an engagement,” he snarls as he takes three more shots, hitting the net each time.

When he’s done, Aiden skates over to me, coming right up to my face with only the boards separating us. He towers over me, lifting the cage of his helmet and gives me a hard stare.

“You did not have to do that in front of an audience. You could have just given me the ring to wear. What was the point of that performance?” My anger penetrates the space between us, but he doesn’t seem fazed.

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and I know whatever he says next is going to annoy me. “Now where would the fun be in that?” Taking my hand, he lifts the ring to his mouth and tongues the diamond like an absolute neanderthal.

Snatching my hand out from his grip, I slap him, which elicits a deep groan from him. I raise my arm to hit him again for the obscene groan, but he grips my wrist. “Is that any way to treat your fiancé?” His words are laced with fury, and his eyes darken, which causes an unwanted shiver to move through my body. “Watch yourself, my venomous little fiancée. I bite.” Snapping his teeth, he mimics like he is actually going to bite me, which has me pushing away from him before he can latch on.

Aiden’s bite would be hard enough to make me bleed. I am sure of that. And he would like it. The fucked-up asshole.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to get blood on the fresh ice during your private skate.” I spit out, my anger nowhere near cooling.

Aiden smirks and leans against his stick, studying me. “Ari. There are certain expectations that come with being the heir. You, out of everyone, should know that. People expect a grand proposal, a huge ring”—he glances down at the six-carat diamond—“and they need to be shown a united front from the future leaders of The Order so they can feel secure. There wasn’t any other option.”

I know he’s right. Of course, he is. It’s not like we are taking over the local pub from a parent. We are inheriting the entire Order.

He just wants to make me as miserable as he is.