by Ivy Fox
Copyright
Speak No Evil – The Society
Copyright © 2021 Ivy Fox
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of all word marks, products, brands, TV shows, movies, music, bands and celebrities mentioned in this work of fiction.
Cover photo courtesy of Wander Aguiar
Cover model – Lucas Loyola
Cover design, formatting, and editing courtesy of X-Factory Designs
For more information, visit:
ISBN: 9798701028973
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Author Note
Speak No Evil Playlist
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Ivy Fox Novels
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dedication
Author Note
Thank you for purchasing Speak No Evil. I’m so thrilled that you’re on this rollercoaster ride with me.
I would like to reinforce that The Society series has an entwining subplot that will only be resolved in the final book. Although each story centers around one couple at a time with a happily for now ending, only in the very last book will you obtain all the answers you seek.
I will say that this book will be filled with new revelations and some more theories on who is behind The Society since we are so close to the finish line.
I would like to ask one small favor of you, if I may.
Reviews are life for an author. I treasure each one since they enable other readers to find my book babies. But I would like to ask that if you decide to write a review to make it as spoiler free as possible. Like I said, this book has bombshell revelations after another, and I’d love it if every reader was surprised when reading it. It will make everyone’s reading experience so much more enjoyable and in the end, that’s every author’s main goal—to offer an escape into the imaginary.
As always, I don’t consider my books to be full-on dark, but more in the shades-of-gray category. Therefore, I thought it best to give you the heads-up that some scenarios may be triggering. All I ask is that you put your trust in me and have faith that everything turns out as it should.
If you’re okay with all that I’ve mentioned above, please proceed and get ready for Asheville’s favorite alphahole to melt your heart.
He sure as hell sneaked his way into mine.
Much love,
Ivy
Speak No Evil Playlist
The Society
Listen to full list on Spotify Here
“All The King’s Men” by The Rig
“Feel Something” by Jaymes Young
“Playing With Fire” by Sam Tinnesz feat. Yacht Money
“Do It For Me” by Rosenfeld
“Power” by Isak Danielson
“Flames” by Tedy
“Bones” by Wens
“Silhouette” by Aquilo
“Body” by SYML
“Ghost Town” by Kanye West feat PartyNextDoor
“Walk Through The Fire” by Zayde Wølf feat. Ruelle
“Lost My Mind” by Alice Kristiansen
“Bad Dream” by Ruelle
“Talking In Your Sleep” by AG feat. Daniella Mason
“Hurricane” by Tommy Profitt feat. Brooke
“Serious Love” by Anya Marina
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Tommy Profitt feat. Brooke
“Lost The Game” by Two Feet
“Glass Heart” by Tommy Profitt feat. Sam Tinnesz
“Animal” by AG feat. MOONZz
“A fool's mouth is his ruin, and his lips are a snare to his soul.”
-Proverbs 18:7
Prologue
The cold Richfield heir sat proudly on his wall,
But all it would take was one good push to watch him fall.
Not even all the king’s horses or all the king’s men,
Would be able to put Colt Richfield Turner back together again.
I’ve always been fond of nursery rhymes. Growing up, I loved putting my own little spin on them, making the childish poems that much more enjoyable for me. My mother used to do it all the time when she tucked me in at night. While other kids my age loved to hear fabled tales about slaying dragons and conquering monsters, she knew no bedtime story could ever compare to when she sang these little rhymes to me. Especially when she made sure they depicted the people in my life so perfectly.
At this very minute, unbeknownst to him, the altered Humpty Dumpty rhyme suits Colt like a fine leather glove.
Discreetly I lean back against my auditorium chair, watching my prey from my peripheral as he scrolls through his feed on his phone, ignoring the lecture taking place. In his wine-colored Tommy Hilfiger sweater, a color he intentionally picked out, knowing it would accentuate his best feature—his sparkling emerald eyes—he dons his usual cool expression, broadcasting how his mere presence in this classroom should be considered a privilege and not a given. It’s no secret Colt is vain to his very core. He enjoys the regal air he puts out into the world, the very one he’s showcasing now, intent on reminding us mere mortals that no one in this room could ever measure up. That he’s better than everyone he could ever come in contact with, and it would serve us well to remember that.
And in most cases, he’s right.
He is better.
Colt was born and bred into a family whose sovereign power can be felt just by walking down any Asheville street that bears their last name. Everyone knows that he, along with his three sisters and cousin, is the last Richfield heir—a dynasty that most would sell their souls to be a part of. Colt has been disciplined to be refined and elevated in his stature, so his pretentious vanity isn’t mind-boggling. It’s just fucking infuriating to watch.
Cold.
Heartless.
Narcissistic.
That is the very definition of who Colt Turner is.
He only shows a sliver of humanity when he has some woman underneath him, and even then, he discards them as easily as most would day-old trash. Yet despite all his faults, the female population around campus can’t seem to get enough of him. It’s almost as if t
hey believe one of them might hold the power to change his stone-cold heart into feeling something.
But I know better.
Colt doesn’t feel. He’s incapable of it.
Most people would constitute his cold apathy as being his biggest flaw, but for me, I actually believe it’s his best asset. One I’ve made sure to take into account in my carefully laid out plans of revenge.
In war, it’s not only relevant to have the best weapons in your arsenal, but also aim it where it will do the most damage. And to a man like Colt, who seems impervious to everything around him, your aim needs to be precise and true. In the art of destruction and carnage, I’ve learned that every great general has a weakness. The chink in Colt’s cleverly fabricated armor is secrets—ones that he keeps hidden under such a callous exterior, and others that people close to him have kept concealed from him all his life.
Yes.
Secrets can be a powerful weapon if you have the fortitude to use them correctly, and to Colt’s misfortune, I am more than equipped to handle his downfall. I yearn for it. Hunger and thirst about the upcoming day where I witness his case-hardened heart break into a thousand small fragments before my very eyes. The ice in his veins will boil over as madness sets in, betrayal living rent-free in his mind. Although I won’t be able to boast I had a hand in his suffering, I’ll bask in the glory of his demise just the same. It’s sure to be one of my biggest triumphs against the Richfields.
That is until I go after Lincoln.
But as the saying goes, the best should always be left for last. Yet, I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips, knowing that Lincoln will suffer just as much as Colt will, soon enough. The warmth that flutters in my chest regarding both cousins impending ruin has the mimicking effects of an illegal drug—addictive and all-consuming. For so long, I have deprived myself of indulging in it, but when the day finally arrives, it will only make their misfortune taste that much sweeter to me.
However, my focus must remain purely on Colt for now. Not that I’m complaining. When I sink my teeth into his devastation, I’ll make a feast out of the pretentious, arrogant heir. I’ll gorge in his misery and suffering like it’s a banquet prepared solely in my honor. It’s time that I am sat at the head of the table and be given the retribution that’s so rightfully mine. I’ve been starved for it long enough.
But then again, all good things come to those who wait.
My mother used to say—beware of the fury of a patient man because there is nothing more lethal than a person who is a master at biding his time to achieve his most nefarious desires. Aside from Teddy, she was probably the only other person who knew all too well what lies dormant in my resentful soul and the lengths to which I would go to get what was owed to me.
And for years, I did just that. I played my part to perfection, knowing all my sacrifices would be rewarded in the end and that I would finally have the life that was always destined for me.
But it only took the events of one spring night for my sacrifices to be laid to waste. I had to stand by and silently watch all my grueling work be undone by the four men I have vowed to destroy. Like his so-called best friends, Colt played his detrimental part that night, ripping my very future away from my grasp, making sure that never again would I be able to get such a golden opportunity. He killed a part of me, and I will make sure to kill a part of him because of that.
The life and reality he so cherishes and flaunts in our faces will cease to exist. I’ll reveal the lies and secrets he’s lived all his life being oblivious to, and in the end, where he once saw kinship, he’ll recognize as a foe. He had a hand in destroying my future, so it’s only fair I have a hand in obliterating his sanity.
All I need is a distraction.
A decoy.
I straighten my spine, knowing the answer will reveal itself to me soon enough, and the probabilities that I will get them in my ethics class are zero to none. I try to stay focused on the lecture, but I find the task incredibly difficult since listening to Professor Harper’s voice grates on my nerves. It’s not her no-nonsense approach to the class that irks me to no end, but it’s the way she doesn’t raise her voice a decibel higher than needed that really aggravates me. It’s a calculative move that ensures everyone in the room is silent enough to pay close attention to her every word. That is if they want to have any chance of getting a passing grade at the end of the semester.
I’m proof that a calculating mind is a dangerous thing; therefore, Emma Harper’s manipulative tactic makes the skin on the back of my neck prick. Still, I put on my best-winning smile as her eyes bounce from one student to the next, finally landing on me. I don’t miss how she pretends to see right through me, acting as if I’m not worthy of her attention or time as her gaze continues to scour the student-filled rows. I fist my hands to the side as I watch her dismissive gaze continue with her hunt, only to finally fall on the man I’ve also set my sights on. A sudden satisfied grin threatens to unleash itself as I pay close attention to the hard-nosed professor and what she’s about to do.
“Mr. Turner, can I have your input on the matter?”
To her chagrin, Colt continues scrolling through his phone, ignoring her completely.
“Mr. Turner?”
He lets out a huff and places the phone face down on his desk, unintimidated by her disgruntled scowl.
“Did you even hear the scenario I presented just now to you and your colleagues, Mr. Turner?”
Colt keeps the blank expression stitched on his face instead of answering her.
“No, I didn’t think so. Very well, then. Although I hate repeating myself, I’ll indulge you this once for the sake of your declining grade. The scenario I threw out to the classroom is as follows. You are a member of the city planning department. You are made aware that an old friend of yours, one who runs a planning consulting firm, has submitted a competitive proposal to work as a consultant for your department. She then calls you up on your work phone during office hours, inviting you to be her guest for dinner that same evening. Do you accept the invitation, or do you decline it until the contract has been awarded?”
“That all depends.” He shrugs noncommittally.
“On what, Mr. Turner? And please be precise.”
“If I’m fucking her or not.”
The class breaks out in a fit of giggles, flutters of laughter filling the room, but Emma Harper doesn’t seem amused in the least by his reply. She leans against her desk, crossing her legs at the ankle as she glowers at him, her blood-red nails repeatedly tapping on the desk’s edge.
“Enlighten me how that bears any weight in this ethical dilemma.”
“Well, if this friend is as good of a friend as you say, then I must be fucking her. And if I am, there is no way I’ll stop just because she wants a job. Besides, I can guarantee you if she’s calling me, she’s not thinking about her contract either. She just wants a good old-fashioned fuck. Getting a job is the last thing on her mind.”
The laughter in the auditorium only increases at Colt’s honest response.
Professor Harper crosses her arms over her ample chest and pushes herself off the desk’s edge to take two steps closer to Colt’s row.
“I’m sure this is a rude awakening for you, Mr. Turner, but there are plenty of people in this world who are motivated by their ambitions and obtain greater satisfaction in achieving their goals than any mere sexual encounter could possibly offer. To some, prestige and power can be highly seductive and more alluring than whatever you believe your sexual prowess can give them.”
Another howl of chuckles ensues, making it challenging to hear Colt’s retort. But lucky for me, I’m close enough to hear every word that falls from his smug lips.
“I have to be honest with you, professor. You talking about my sexual prowess is aphrodisiacal enough. Isn’t there some ethical dilemma in getting a student hard in class just so he can pay attention to your boring ass lecture?”
“The only dilemma I see here is whether I
should report you to the dean’s office for sexual misconduct or just fail you for your lackluster academic response. I must admit I’m conflicted at which one would truly grab your attention, seeing as very little does.”
Colt leans back in his chair, his arms thrown back so his hands can cup the back of his head, as he stares the professor down.
“I prefer our sexual tension to your brand of intimidation any day of the week, to keep my attention. You were almost able to make me care about this class, professor. Don’t ruin it with unfounded threats. We both know whose signature signs your teacher’s salary.”
They stare into each other’s eyes with such loathing that my mind begins to wander at all the endless possibilities. I school my delighted features as best as I can, and the minute the rest of the class has quieted down, I chime in on their one on one battle.
“If I may, professor? I think the answer is quite obvious. It would be a blatant conflict of interest in accepting the dinner date, even if the invitation weren’t made with the intent of enhancing said friend’s chances of getting the job. You didn’t say if we had any influence on the decision to award the contract or not. However, it is still good optics that we postpone any contact with our friend for the time being since it would be hard for us to keep the same distance from the actual decision-makers of who gets the contract.”
Professor Harper doesn’t even look at me as she takes in my answer, her deadlock gaze still set on Colt.
“Correct. I’m glad to see some of my students aren’t as ethically challenged as Mr. Turner here.”
“So, in other words, just use your hand to get off,” I whisper over to Colt, throwing him a goading wink for good measure.
His nose flares, but he doesn’t say anything in return, his glower still focused on Professor Harper as she sashays back to her spot at the center of the room and continues with her lesson.
As I take their animosity toward each other, the light bulb in my head only brightens. Emma Harper has been a thorn in my side since senior year began, but it seems she has the same annoying effect on Colt. Not one to ever look a gift horse in the mouth, I decided to include the professor in my scheme. I wasn’t planning on messing with her since all her efforts regarding Stone Bennett went nowhere, but making room in my plan for the prestigious professor just feels right to me.