Jason was in university at his father's insistence. He didn't need a degree. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate being adopted into wealth and leaving his life as a street kid and petty criminal behind. And it wasn't that he didn't appreciate learning. Hell, he'd been the star athlete and student in his high school and graduated with honors.

He just f*cking hated academia.

My god, the amount of pretentious know-it-all a**holes he had to deal with was unreal. If he heard another self-important jackass spouting pseudo-intellectual garbage about whatever the hell it was that was assigned reading, he was gonna lose it. People could read a book and not act like they were the gods' gift to mankind.

To distract himself from all the nonsense, Jason liked to ride his bike around campus, and occasionally took odd jobs as a delivery guy. Not that he needed to work, but it helped to be surrounded by working-class people with real problems instead of rich babies who'd never known hardship in their life.

Sadly, he was delivering a very large order of pizzas to a party in one of those fancy Greek-letter clubs. The ones with the type of student whose eyes made dollar signs at the mere mention of his adoptive dad. The preppiest student he'd ever seen in his damn life opened the door and motioned for him to come in and set the numerous pizza boxes down. Immediately his ears were assaulted by blaring, terrible music, his nostrils by the smell of alcohol mixed with who knows what, and his eyes honed in on some creep eyeing another student's drink.

Oh, no. Not on his watch.

He didn't even think. One moment he was standing there, and the next he was across the room, the creep was on the floor, clutching his jaw. Everyone froze in place, and before the guy could say anything, Jason snatched the drugs from him. He glanced at the student whose drink had been spiked and gave a sympathetic nod.

"You guys gonna call campus police or should I?" Jason sharply asked the crowd, pizzas still perfectly balanced in his free arm.