There was no reaction.

“Have you guys not seen the magazines? Well, I can’t blame you. All three of you guys are all over them, and Denton Steele. I wouldn’t want to read some of the stuff they’re saying about you guys either, if I were you.”

“Michael.” A warning growl from Corrigan.

“Yeah. Okay. Anyway, that’s it. Since Sheldon was arrested, she’s been the number one way for money. I figured a few pictures wouldn’t hurt, but I sold those and then realized how much money I could make. Sorry, Sheldon.” He lifted up one side of his mouth. “Nothing personal, and for what it’s worth, I never noticed anyone watching you. If I had, I would’ve told Corrigan. For sure.”

“But,” Bryce walked around to stand beside us. He folded his arms over his chest. “You have pics of her at places that no other paparazzi have. If you’re not her stalker, how do you explain knowing where she’s been when the others haven’t?”

“Oh.”

“Yes?” I asked.

“Uh.” He bit down on his lip. “Well.”

“Fucking tell us, Mike!” Corrigan burst out.

“Okay. Okay. Crap. Don’t kill me,” he said that last sentence to Corrigan. “I downloaded an app on your phone.”

Uh . . . my eyebrows bunched together. “You did what?”

He nodded at Corrigan. “There’s a GPS application on your phone. It sends me coordinates of where you are.”

“Are you kidding me?”

That came from me. Corrigan still hadn’t spoken. The longer he was quiet, the more I started thinking that I needed to take that knife away.

“No. Look. Pull your phone out.”

Corrigan didn’t move. He was still staring at his fraternity brother. No reaction. No emotion. I shared an alarmed look with Bryce and he nodded. He said quietly, “Where’s your phone, Cor? I’ll look.”

Corrigan never looked away from Michael, who had now tuned into the new danger he was in. Not from me. My urge to knife him left after that first time, but Corrigan had the knife. Michael started looking from Corrigan’s face, still an emotionless mask, to the knife. He wet his lips. “Um, Sheldon or Bryce. Can you guys—”

Corrigan burst forward and shoved him over. The chair fell backward. I cringed as Michael went down. His head was going to hit the floor, but it didn’t. I didn’t hear a thud. I moved over, just an inch so I could see what happened.

Corrigan was cradling the back of Michael’s head, but he had a knee pressing down on his chest. The knife was at his throat, and he growled, “You took my phone?”

“Yes,” Michael whispered. He let out a quaking breath.

My nose wrinkled. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had soiled himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I violated your privacy, but . . .” He shook his head from side to side, then again. “I really am sorry. She’s your woman. When I downloaded it, I knew you’d be going to her. I did it quick, right when the news broke that she was arrested. You were downstairs watching the news. I knew you had left your phone in your room so I did it then. You never knew. I was worried. I thought you’d find it, but you never did.”

He had betrayed Corrigan. That was why he was mad, not about the phone. Michael saw a way to make money, and he used him. It was plain and simple. It was also the worst way to violate another brother’s trust.

Michael was going to be shunned from the fraternity. I knew it then, and as it occurred to me, Michael’s eyes got even wider. “No. Please don’t, Corrigan. I love those guys. They’re my brothers.”

It had occurred to him, too.

Corrigan was silent.

Michael started babbling, begging him not to exile him from the house. All of it landed on deaf ears.

Bryce moved forward, reached down, and pulled Corrigan’s phone from his pocket. A moment later, he asked, “It’s not called Stalker’s GPS, is it?”

“Um.” Michael was still staring up at Corrigan. Agony and desperation filtered in. He cleared his throat and croaked out, “It is. I’m sorry.”

“Oh my god,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Are you serious?”

Bryce handed me the phone as he strode forward. I watched, pocketing Corrigan’s phone. He was still immobile, sitting on Michael’s chest with the knife to his throat. Bryce stopped next to him and murmured, “Corrigan. Let him up.”

He didn’t move.

Michael was trembling underneath him, his eyes imploring him, but he didn’t dare talk. Corrigan’s hold was firm on the knife—that’s when I got it. Corrigan was like me. I wasn’t nervous. He hadn’t been nervous with me either. Because we each knew the other’s limits. Corrigan wasn’t really going to slice his throat open, but he had no qualm about making him think that. He wasn’t going to let him go without a scratch either. The threat of violence from Corrigan was real. He had it in him to do something horrible, like me, like how I had embedded the knife into Michael’s thigh. It wasn’t lethal, but it wasn’t a paper cut. It would be felt for a long time, reminding him of what he’d done, who he’d hurt.

I didn’t know what Corrigan would’ve done to Michael. I knew he wouldn’t have killed him, but that was the beauty of him. He wouldn’t have done something like I had. A part of me wondered what it would’ve been, but Bryce cleared his throat again and Michael started crying.

The moment was gone.

Corrigan had to let him up. When Bryce touched his shoulder, he did just that, standing up and turning toward me. His gaze was hooded; he was even keeping me out and that hurt. I swallowed the pang, though.

He stopped in front of me. “Where’s my phone?”

I dug it out of my pocket and held it out to him.

He took it without a word and brushed past me for the door.

I turned around. “Don’t delete it.”

He stopped at the door, his back to me.

I added, “There might be some way of using it somehow. Don’t delete it yet.”

He nodded and left.

I turned back around. Bryce had helped Michael back up and untied him. I went over to him and tilted my head to the side. Both guys looked up, but Bryce went back to letting Ritt loose.

“Tit for tat, Ritt,” I said. “You narc on us, we’ll narc on you. And trust me, we’ll make it sound worse than anything you can cook up in that fried mind. Got it?”