Chapter Four

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Chapter Four

Jackson Blake's POV

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Jackson Blake's POV

A week has passed since that night in the woods. The anticipation of receiving a letter has eaten away at me night by night. And yet somehow, I care more about seeing the face of that beautiful man than I do anything else. I've tried to keep my focus on my classes but every so often, that tatted body slips into my mind and captures my thoughts in its tight grip. Fuck, what's wrong with me?

The classes have been alright so far, the lecturer cracks a couple jokes and doesn't take things too seriously, they're my favourite type of teachers. Considering I'm studying business, you'd expect some middle aged white man with very little personality. Thankfully I've got a Latino man, probably in his mid 30's who has the wittiness of Ryan Reynolds and the looks of a young Diego Luna.

Why business? Well, I think I chose it because of my desire to succeed. To open my own business and to satisfy the never ending need for control. I mean fuck, the idea of working for some prick with a stiff upper lip just to make his pockets fatter never has sat well with me. I'd rather do well and know I'm doing it for me, not for someone else.

Surprisingly, I've actually managed to not be a total loser this year and unbelievably, I have friends. I know, friends? Shock horror. Unfortunately for Blake, he's become my new companion. He's an energetic character and in some bizarre coincidence, he's also in the Alpha Fraternity trials.

As I've spent more time around campus, it's become more and more obvious how much influence Alpha Members have on professors and fellow students. Despite the fact they're not cutting about in varsity jackets that are plastered with labels saying Alpha Fraternity, you can spot who's a member from a mile off.

You'll see the special treatment they get, the partition of students when they walk as if they are Moses and the student are the Red Sea. There's a fear culture around them. This 'don't talk to them, don't look at them, don't even fucking breathe near them' type of culture.

Obviously, I didn't give a fuck. I even sat in one of their seats during a lecture. Although I'd heard the rumours, been consistently warned about doing fucking with them, I only received a few death glares and snide remarks. It quickly reinstated my 'bad boy' persona.

They are right though, the Alpha Members aren't people to fuck with, and although I can't understand why I'm getting away with doing just that, they aren't push overs. I just somehow have become an exception to the rule.

They have connections, big fucking connections too. Connections that go high up in government, MI5, FBI, CIA, fuck, I've even heard rumours they have links with the mafia. People fear the consequences of fucking with the Alpha Members, not that you can blame them. They can ruin your life.

A knock sounds through my apartment and having been so lost in thought, it made my heart skip a beat as I'm startled back into reality. I spring to my feet and open the door, a tall man looms in the doorway, a tight-fitting black suit clings to their body, their eyes a piercing dark brown. A black envelope with a gold seal sits between their fingers as they extend it across for me to take. It feels like déjà vu.

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