My Milf Conqueror System-Chapter 23: The muscle

Ethan’s dorm room looked like a conspiracy theorist’s bunker. He had cleared off his whiteboard and drawn a crude pyramid. At the top, he’d written BRAD (The Enemy) in red marker. Below that, The Lacrosse Bros.

"Okay," Ethan said, pacing the small room. "Here’s the situation. Brad isn’t just talking anymore. He’s mobilizing. I heard from a guy in Sigma Chi that they’re planning to ’check’ you at the Greek Week mixer on Friday. Publicly."

"Check me?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Like, physically?"

"Like, ’accidentally’ spill a keg on you, or shove you into a fountain, or start a fight they know they can win because there are six of them and one of you." Ethan stopped pacing. "Jake, you’ve got the suit, you’ve got the girl, you’ve got the attitude. But you don’t have the muscle. You’re literally a general without an army."

He was right. My "Intimidation" skill was high, but it relied on psychological pressure. If Brad decided to throw a punch, a high charisma stat wouldn’t stop a fist.

I looked at the System interface floating in my vision.

[Mission: The Inner Circle]

[Objective: Recruit "The Muscle"]

[Candidate Detected: Darius King]

[Profile: Junior, Linebacker, Scholarship Student. Status: Outsider.]

"Darius King," I said.

Ethan blinked. "The linebacker? Dude, he’s terrifying. He put a guy in the hospital last season for making a ’your mom’ joke. He hates everyone."

"He hates entitled people," I corrected. "He’s a scholarship kid, like me. He works security at The Box on weekends because his stipend doesn’t cover his rent."

"And you think he’s going to help you? He thinks you’re one of them now. Mr. Met Gala."

"That’s exactly why he’ll listen," I said, pushing off the doorframe. "Because I’m going to offer him something Brad never would."

"What? Friendship?"

"Respect," I said. "And a paycheck."

...

I found Darius in the university weight room. It was the old gym in the basement, the one with rusted plates and no air conditioning—the place where the serious lifters went to avoid the influencers upstairs.

Darius was deadlifting. The bar was bending under the weight. He was a mountain of a human being, six-foot-four with shoulders that looked like they could tackle a truck. He wore a faded hoodie and headphones, his expression a mask of intense focus.

I waited until he finished his set. The bar slammed to the floor with a sound like a gunshot.

He stood up, wiping sweat from his forehead, and saw me. His eyes narrowed.

"If it isn’t the celebrity," he grunted. "You lost? The cardio machines are upstairs."

"I’m looking for you, Darius."

He grabbed his water bottle, ignoring me. "I don’t sign autographs. And I don’t care about your little internet fame."

"I heard you’re looking for extra shifts," I said. "At The Box."

He stopped. Slowly, he turned back to face me. "You stalking me?"

"Research, Darius. There’s a difference." I corrected. "I know you’re working twenty hours a week on top of practice and classes. I also know that the owner of The Box shorts your tips sometimes."

Darius crossed his arms. His biceps were the size of my head. "So? You writing a book?"

"Even better, I’m offering you a job opportunity."

He laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "Let me guess. You want me to beat up someone who looked at your shoes wrong? I’m not a hitman, pretty boy."

"I don’t want a hit man, and I’m not a pretty boy. " I said, keeping my voice even. "I want a Director of Security."

Darius raised an eyebrow. "A what?"

"I run a consulting firm," I lied smoothly. "We handle high-profile clients. Sensitive information. I need someone to manage my personal security during campus events. Someone professional. Someone intimidating. Someone who can easily de-escalate a situation before it starts."

I pulled a folded envelope from my jacket pocket and held it out.

"Five hundred a week. For ten hours of work. It ain’t much work, mostly just standing around looking dangerous while I talk to people."

Darius looked at the envelope, then at me. "Five hundred?"

"Cash. Upfront."

He took the envelope. He didn’t open it. He just weighed it in his hand.

"Why me?" he asked, his voice lower now. "You could hire a pro with this amount."

"Because we are both scholarship students," I said. "And because you hate Brad and his crew as much as I do."

A slow grin spread across Darius’s face. It was terrifying.

"Brad’s a bitch," he agreed.

"He’s planning to jump me at the mixer on Friday."

Darius snorted. "Of course he is."

"I don’t want to fight him," I said. "I want to humiliate him. I want him to see that he can’t touch me. Can you handle that?"

Darius pocketed the envelope. He picked up his towel.

"Mr. Hart," he said, his voice mocking but respectful. "What time do we start?"

[Ally Recruited: Darius King (The Muscle)]

[Loyalty: Transactional]

[Intimidation Rating: Maximum]

...

Friday night. The Greek Week mixer was held on the main quad, a sprawling party of tents, music, and red solo cups. It was the center of the social universe.

I arrived at 9 PM.

I wasn’t wearing a tux this time, but I wasn’t wearing a hoodie either. I wore a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled up, and dark jeans. Simple. Clean.

And walking two steps behind me, wearing a black t-shirt that strained against his chest and dark sunglasses (at night, which was a nice touch), was Darius.

The effect was immediate.

As we walked through the crowd, the sea of students parted. People stopped drinking. The music seemed to fade.

"Is that... Darius?"

"Why is he with Jake?"

"Dude, look at them. He looks like a bodyguard."

We made our way to the center of the quad, near the fountain. I saw Ethan by the DJ booth, grinning like a maniac. He gave me a subtle thumbs-up.

Then I saw Brad.

He was with his crew, holding a beer, laughing loudly. When he saw me, his laughter died. He nudged the guy next to him—a linebacker named Mike.

They started walking toward me. The crowd sensed the conflict and pulled back, creating a circle.

"Hart!" Brad shouted, his voice slurring slightly. "Look who decided to show up. Where’s your mommy?"

He stepped into the circle. Mike and two others flanked him. They looked ready to brawl.

I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t even look at him.

I just stopped and checked my watch.

Brad got closer. "I’m talking to you, Hart." He reached out to grab my shoulder.

Before his hand could touch me, a massive arm shot out.

Darius caught Brad’s wrist in mid-air. He didn’t squeeze. He just held it there, like an iron bar.

Brad looked up. And up.

"Darius?" Brad stammered. "What the hell? Let go."

Darius didn’t blink behind his sunglasses. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated in everyone’s chest.

"Mr. Hart is having a private conversation," Darius said. "Step back."

"Mr. Hart?" Brad laughed nervously, looking around for support. "Dude, it’s Jake. He’s a nobody. Why are you protecting him?"

"I’m on the clock," Darius said. "And you’re in my workspace."

He tightened his grip slightly. Brad winced.

"Step. Back."

Brad looked at his friends. Mike looked at Darius and took a distinct step backward. Nobody wanted a piece of Darius King. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Brad pulled his arm free, rubbing his wrist. His face was bright red. He looked at the crowd, seeing the phones recording, the smirks, the realization that he had just been big-timed.

"Whatever," Brad muttered, his voice cracking. "You’re a sellout, King."

"And you’re blocking the path," Darius said.

Brad scrambled out of the way.

I finally looked at him. I didn’t smile. I didn’t gloat. I just gave him a polite nod, like he was a waiter who had brought me the wrong drink.

"Good evening, Brad," I said.

I walked past him, Darius falling into step behind me.

The crowd erupted into whispers.

Did you see that?

Darius King works for him?

He called him Mr. Hart.

Okay, he’s definitely not just a student.

I walked over to Ethan, who handed me a drink.

"That," Ethan whispered, "was the coolest thing I have ever seen."

I took a sip, my hand steady.

"I was panicking."

I looked over my shoulder. Darius was standing at the edge of our circle, arms crossed, scanning the crowd. He caught my eye and gave a barely perceptible nod.

[Social Rank Updated: The Boss]

[Campus Influence: High]

[Brad’s Status: Neutralized]

I had the Muscle. I had the Insider. I had a confidant.

Now I just needed the Intel. Because while Darius could stop a fist, he couldn’t stop a rumor. And I had a feeling the next attack wouldn’t be physical.