“I know your secret.”

At first, Leander had thought the text message was a bad joke. He was twenty-one years old and in all those years, his secret had been his alone. Fucking nobody should know.

“You like guys.”

He hastily looked around the campus gym—nobody was close enough to read the message on his phone’s screen. Leander had abandoned the dumbbells on the bench press but next to him Colton was still groaning under his 30kg weights to the sound of the gym’s banging techno music. ‘Gross,’ Leander thought; Colton’s shorts were too damn short and sweat dripped off his body like he wanted to compete with the Niagara Falls.

But Taren was different. The Crow was just a metre away, throwing punches at a sandbag in sync with the music, rhythmically and swiftly. His hip movement was seductive and Leander had to throw a towel over his lap to hide his boner as he imagined grinding against Taren’s tight ass, torn between sweet pleasure and unbearable shame.

“You like guys,” he read the message again. It was an unknown number but the second message gave the sender away. “From now on, YOU will take notes for ME.” It was that nerd from his course. 

Only seconds later, Leander’s phone buzzed again. “Give me some dirt about the Crow or I’ll tell him.”

Leander was sweating just as much as Colton now, not from exercise but from panic. Taren was the one person that could never find out his secret. Gay people were traitors that were to be disposed of, mercilessly and without exception. A cold shiver ran down his spine when he remembered how the last gay person had ended up—his corpse was probably still floating somewhere in London’s sewers. But neither could he betray Taren who was one of the two people he knew at Fairlight.

“If you keep staring at your fucking phone, you’ll get weak like a pussy.” Colton attempted to laugh but it looked more like a grimace as he struggled against the metal weights. 

“I’d still be able to lift more than you, asshole,” Leander hissed back. Seriously, he had no time for that fucktard now. 

Colton let go of the heavy dumbbells, their impact on the floor drowning out the ever-thudding music for a moment. “Wanna fight? Against you, I won’t have to hold back like I did with that rich bastard.” He sat up, sweat still dripping off his body. “Next time I see that fucking brat I’ll break his ugly nose.”

“You won’t touch him.” Taren stopped his assault on the sandbag and wiped away the sweat from his forehand with the back of his hand—an action that did not help with calming down Leander’s dick. 

Thankfully, the Crow was unaware of his despicable thoughts. “He’s Eric’s younger brother.” 

“The fuck?” With the goddamn noise that was supposed to be workout music in the background, Leander thought he had misheard. To think Eric, that piece of shit, had a brother… A brother who was in their bloody degree program. 

“Eric, that motherfucking traitor…” Colton sounded equally shocked. “Let’s take that damn bastard kid out before he betrays us, too.”

“It’s too damn risky to let him live, Taren,” Leander added. “That cunt Eric nearly killed you TWICE. We can’t trust Eric’s brother, what if he is after our life, too?” 

“Ryvan is his own person, he’s got nothing to do with Eric’s treachery.” It was Taren’s listen-to-me-or-die tone, nonchalant yet threatening. As sexy as it was, Leander hated it—because he knew that Taren would actually follow through with his threat.

“We’ll beat him to a pulp so he won’t dare to show his sorry face here anymore,” Colton said, ignoring Taren’s tone. “This way we can be sure he won’t try to fucking mess with us.”

It was probably the most intelligent statement Colton had ever made in his lifetime, Leander thought. Though it could also be his last; Taren was hard to predict. 

“Alright,” Taren said. Leander was scared of how calm he was. “Fight me then.”

The Crow was almost a head shorter and nowhere near as bulky as them—yet neither Leander nor Colton moved. Even for the two of them, Taren was no easy opponent. He was truly ruthless in a fight, had no care for his own survival, and wouldn’t hesitate to kill—a wild beast that Leander would love to tame in bed but was terrified of fighting. 

“Fine, I’ll stay the hell away from him,” Colton gave in and turned back to his weights. The second most intelligent thing he had said in his life, Leander judged. “But you know what happened with that traitor Eric,” he added, not without a scowl. 

“I know,” Taren replied, his voice now barely audible. “I was the one who fucking killed him.”

Perhaps it was good if someone could control Taren, Leander thought as he grabbed his phone. Unlike Taren, Colton and he could beat that twat up if he tried anything funny. “Taren’s real name is Alexei Stephanov,” he texted Glasses.