by J Bree
The problem was the old adage that the Jackal had told me over and over again: new money can’t become old money without getting dirty first. Amongst the Twelve, it was crucial to our domination and survival. If you can find a family close to turning and get in with them, become indispensable, then you can amass power as quickly as money. Matteo had done it dozens of times, and now he was the most powerful man in the state.
The Beaumonts were old and dirty. The Morrisons were unparalleled in their wealth, but squeaky clean. If Blaise took on Joey for what he’s doing to his friends, then his hands wouldn’t stay clean for long.
From the look on his face, I’d guess he didn’t want them to.
“And how fares my little Mounty love?” Joey calls out to me, breaking my train of thought. I’ve been staring at Blaise for too long. Instead of being embarrassed about it, I just flip Joey the bird.
Gasps ring out around me. People begin to get up and move out of the way, desperate not to be noticed by Joey. I take a bite out of my apple and chew slowly, sending a glare down the table at the teachers hearing all of this and ignoring it completely. What a bunch of pussies.
When the bell tolls its warning, I get up and walk out of the dining hall calmly. As I push out of the dining hall, I feel the heat of Joey’s gaze on my back, so I turn to look at him.
The little smile on his face is manic, feral, and edged with insanity.
He’s not sober.
The time away has given him the chance to get a grip on himself and hide the addiction better, but the dancing flames in his eyes tell me all I need to know about what’s running through his veins right now. He winks at me, and I let the door swing shut behind me.
Joey’s return to Hannaford means I have trouble sleeping again.
It doesn't matter that I have the best lock system money can buy now, thanks to Matteo. Every time I shut my eyes, I see that raging psycho’s face as he pinned me to his bed, and that fucking wink in the dining hall. I’ve slipped my knife into the pocket in the hoodie I’m wearing like a safety blanket but sleep still evades me.
Usually, I fight my insomnia by throwing myself headfirst into my studies, but I’ve just about finished all my assignments for the entire school year. I could go over my notes for my upcoming tests and the end-of-year exams, but I know that I already know everything, that I’ve already crammed it all into my head and it's stuck. I could also start on the reading required for next year, but nothing is holding my interest at the moment.
I feel restless. Like my skin is crawling and my mind is climbing the walls of my skull and trying to get out. I can’t stop moving or jiggling my legs. My mind is currently torturing me with images of Matteo doing to me what Joey tried to do. I know someday his patience will wear thin, and he’ll want to take what he thinks he’s owed. It’s why I have to do well here at Hannaford, so that someday I can disappear somewhere even the Jackal cannot reach.
I’m thinking the Caribbean.
I have no idea what job I’ll do there but fuck it if I’m not resourceful. Everywhere needs doctors, so my original career path works. I’ll just have to figure out how to go to med school there. I can figure this out if I put my mind to it.
I’m two hours into a deep internet research spiral when a door slams in the hallway.
I glance over and see it’s three in the morning, so not the usual time for loud noises in the girls’ dorm. It’s possible someone has gotten up to pee or is even sneaking a guy into their room, but my mind is currently a vortex of spiraling anxiety and what-ifs. I carefully roll out of bed; thankful the creaking mattress has been replaced and I can be silent as I sneak my door open.
My stomach bottoms out.
Joey is sitting against Avery’s door, his phone in his hand and his face lit up in the dark as he texts someone. He’s wearing dark slacks and a polo shirt, loafers on his feet, like he’s just left some elitist gentleman’s club. He doesn’t notice me watching him, and I think about calling the student helpline to report him being up here to get him out. I reach into my pocket, and grip my knife. If he spots me and rushes toward me, I’ll only need one good swing to take him out. I will use his momentum as he rushes to let the knife sink deep into his throat. It’s a smaller target than his belly, but more effective at getting him taken out fast. I’d seen guys stabbed in the gut go on to run through the streets for hours during the Game. It was a good lesson on picking out the weakest spot and aiming true.
I don’t know how long I sit there and watch him. My ass goes numb and my fingers ache from where I’m gripping the knife handle so tight. I can’t look away from him, even for a second; my eyes refuse to blink. I jump when the door opens, and Joey pushes himself off the ground to face Avery.
I’ve never seen the two of them interact. It’s weird to think we’ve been at the same school for months, eating meals together and passing each other in the halls, and yet I’ve never seen them so much as look at each other.
“Dad’s not happy you called the cops on me, Floss,” he says in a sing-song voice. Avery’s eyes are cool, even as her shoulders tremble.
“Don’t call me that. Is that all you have to say? Because we both know it wasn’t me that called them.”
The clock was ticking. Joey was going to make his next move on me soon. “Nevertheless. Just telling you what dear old Dad thinks. He asked me to pass this on to you.”
Joey’s hand cracks across her cheek so hard, she bounces back against her door. Her head makes a sickening thud, and I open my door up wide, the light from my room cutting through the darkness. Joey doesn’t look up at me, but Avery’s eyes grow wide.
“Goodnight,” he says in that same tone, and he walks off.
I take a step toward Avery, and she pegs me with a look of such loathing I stop dead in my tracks. She tucks back into her room and shuts her door quietly, and I’m left with my own thoughts again.
My head is pounding with an intense headache from lack of sleep the next day. Aside from preparing myself for Joey’s next tantrum at me, I’ve put his little visit with Avery out of my head completely. She didn’t want my help when it happened right there in front of me, so I assumed she still wanted me to stay the fuck away from her—so it was a surprise to arrive at history and find her leaning against my desk.
Harley has a habit of getting to all his classes mere seconds before they begin, so he wasn’t the reason for her visit. I give her a cool look as I take my seat and gather my supplies.
“Something has been bothering me, Mounty, and I want some answers. I own the teachers at this school. I have since middle school, so how is it a lowly little scholarship student could override my instructions, hm? I’ve had a chat with Mr. Embley, and he nearly went into heart failure at my questions. It seems you’re now scarier than I am.”
She’s deflecting. She’s running interference so I don’t question her on her brother or her fucked-up family dynamics. I play along with her little game in the hopes that she’ll leave me alone so I can focus on Joey instead. “Did you know that money isn't the only thing that can influence people? Some people have other buttons, and all you need to know is where they are.”
She smiles slowly at me and Harley walks into the classroom. He frowns when he sees Avery speaking to me and hurries over to us both. “I'm well acquainted with manipulation. What I'm asking is how you did it.”
I drop my gaze down to the assignment I’m due to hand in today and I give it a once-over, even though I know it's perfect. Harley drops his bag onto the floor at my feet and stands over me with his hands on his hips, frowning. I look up and find Avery still staring at me with an expectant look fixed on her features.
“That is absolutely none of your business, but a word of warning: you should think twice about who you target at this school.”
Avery glances between Harley and me, and then smirks and takes her own seat. The teacher arrives and starts calling for quiet, and Harley drops down into his chair.
“The fuck was that about?
” he whispers at me, leaning in so I’m drowning in his delicious smell. Would it kill the guy to be average for once and not smell like living ambrosia? Ugh.
“Just discussing tactics, nothing to worry yourself with. Your cousin is fine,” I whisper back as I breathe him in. I hope it’s not too obvious that I’m turning to putty over him again.
He shakes his head at me and takes his seat, a small frown creasing his brow.
He doesn’t ask me again.
I think that will be the end of the confrontation with Avery, but once again, I’ve underestimated her. It’s another hard lesson to learn.
I walk into the sitting room in the girls’ dorms after dinner and stop dead when I see Avery holding my bag. Gritting my teeth, I curse under my breath at her. I should have known this was coming. I had seen too much and gotten too close to the Beaumont family once again. No good deed at this school goes unpunished.
She holds the lighter up, and I cringe.
It’s replaceable. I did the sums once, I can do them again, but they’re due tomorrow and I’d slaved away at the workbook for weeks. It’s the culmination of months of learning, and it’s worth seventy percent of my overall class mark. I’ll have to pull an all-nighter to have a chance of getting them done in time.
“I’m quickly learning that personal humiliation isn’t the way to get you out of here. I’m tempted to look into what happened to you at your Mounty school to make you so resilient, but who has the time for that, hm? You need a 3.75 GPA or higher to stay here, right? How low do you think flunking math will drop it?”
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them again, she can see the resolution I’ve come to.
“Burn it, then.”
The flames eat the paper ravenously. Avery drops in into the bin, and soon the whole thing is engulfed in flames. The smile she gives me as she walks away is infuriating, but I give her my best serene face in return. There are things I know better than most about myself and the ways of the world. A night of no sleep won’t kill me. A week without food won’t kill me. Finding my mother's dead body rotting on my kitchen floor won’t kill me. A bullet to the shoulder won’t kill me. The bullying at Hannaford Prep won’t kill me.
Chapter Twenty
Lunch is the only meal of the day that is at a set time for me. Since my drugging episode, I had started skipping breakfast and eating dinner at 10 p.m., right before the dining hall closes, and I am usually only ever joined by teachers. Still a risk, as I know Avery has most of the school staff under her impressive thumb, but there were only so many protein bars I could eat and meals I could skip. The small amount of weight I had put on is quickly disappearing off my body, and I miss my boobs already. I also miss the French toast with syrup and strawberries that are only served at breakfast. Ugh.
For lunch each day I select a sealed drink, usually a bottle of water, and a couple of apples and bananas. It’s barely enough to stop the intense hunger pangs in my empty stomach, and I still have to listen to the rumbling for most of the afternoon. To every other student, it looks like I’ve gone on a strict diet, which is common among the girls here. I know for a fact there are at least five girls I share the bathroom with that are vomiting after their meals in an effort to be supermodel thin. One of them even confronted me and asked my secret to being so small. When I answered poverty with a blank face, she snarled at me like a rabid dog. Calorie deprivation can turn even the nicest girls into bitches.
My phone pings as I sit, and I’m careful to keep my eyes on my food while I fish around in my bag to grab it and see what Matteo needs from me.
You never call to chat anymore.
I stare at the screen for a second while the other students around me eat and talk and laugh like normal teenagers. What I wouldn’t give to be one of them. To be worried about what my parents think about my grades, or what I’m going to wear to the next party I attend. Instead, here I am trying to decipher obscure text messages from gangster kingpins while planning my next move against billionaire sociopaths.
I need to catch a break.
I wonder what it is about me that appeals to these types of guys. Matteo had handpicked me out of hundreds of foster kids at age nine to train to someday become the Wolf. Joey had taken one look at me when I arrived at Hannaford and decided I would make a good game. If I knew what it was that beckoned to them, I could try and snuff it out, or at least conceal it. Instead, I’m stuck dealing with the ramifications of their desires.
I shove my tray aside and tap out a reply. I can use this opening if I’m smart about it; I want to try and clear my summer break from any Club business. I need some downtime.
I’m fielding a lot at the moment. I’m making some good connections. A lot of future leaders in my classes.
I pick up an apple. I like the wholeness of it. I can see if anyone has tampered with it, so now I’m surviving on fruit. Lauren sits down across from me and gives me a little half-smile. I return it with a sigh.
I’ve heard some disturbing things about you, Starbright.
Ugh, I hate it when he calls me that. I’m sure he is one of the last people on this Earth that knows my middle name. He enjoys teasing me with it. Nothing makes my blood boil quicker than hearing the name my doped-up mother assigned me. Eclipse Starbright Anderson. The second I turn eighteen, I’m changing my name to Claire, or Kylie, or fucking Frances. Anything normal, anything that people just write down without making a smart-ass comment about.
I’m acing my classes and I’m finally looking like a girl instead of a skinned rat. What’s so disturbing about that?
Avery and the guys walk in and line up for food. Harley is back to laughing and joking with them all, my drugged night of vomit clearly forgotten. Avery looks dimmed from her usual smiling overlord shine. I watch them all out of the corner of my eye, and I don’t miss the looks Ash sends me. Curious.
Why does Joey Beaumont want you dead?
My stomach drops. So Joey is running his mouth about me so much that now even Matteo has heard it all the way back at Mounts Bay? Rationally I know the Jackal has eyes here as well, and any of them could have passed the information on, but it still makes a shiver run up my spine. I know how badly Matteo wants to own me, mind and body, so this at least I can work to my favor.
He wants to fuck me. He’s made a game out of it. I have no intention of fucking any guy here, and when I expressed that to him, he tried to rape me. He was unsuccessful and doesn’t take kindly to the word no.
I think Matteo gets a kick out of the idea of me being untouched. I think he fantasizes about being the one and only person to be inside me someday. I know this is the best card to play. Maybe I am learning how to play the political game.
I will pay little Joey a visit. Do not argue with me on this.
I glance over to watch Joey as he presses over his group of flunkies like he’s their king, and smile. Occasionally, it’s a good thing to keep Matteo’s dreams about me alive.
I wouldn’t dream of arguing with you, Jackal.
As I grab my tray to head back out of the dining hall, I see Joey frowning down at his phone, and it feels like a victory to me.
“You should talk Avery into taking some self-defense lessons.”
Ash stares over the library table at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. Maybe I have, but I’ve also lost the ability to give a fuck at this place anymore. I decide it’s sleep deprivation. I only got twenty minutes of sleep after finishing the re-do on my math workbook, but I’m confident I’ll get at least an A-minus on it, so it was worth it.
“And why do you think I should do that?” He speaks slowly, dragging out the words like I'm very simple.
“Maybe next time your sociopath brother takes a swing at her, she can plant him on his ass like he deserves.”
His eyebrows show the exact toll my words have taken on him. He’s fucking devastated, and my heart drops to see it. I guess she didn’t tell him about Joey’s homecoming. I feel weirdly guilty, like somehow, it�
�s my fault his twin was hurt.
“When did you see that?” His voice is as raw as his face. I look down at the page in front of him, and I realize he’s shaking. Fucking Joey, he ruins everything he touches. Even his siblings have been broken by him.
“Last week. I tried to speak to her about it and she freaked. She should at least learn enough to make him think twice about touching her.”
Ash groans and scrubs a hand over his face, all long tan fingers I try not to stare at. It’s jarring to see real emotions on his face this close. He’s usually so reserved, so cut off, that I never see his face without a sneer in my direction. It’s oddly comforting.
“I’ve tried. She said if she fights back, it’ll only make him more violent toward her. We always make sure she has one of us with her.” He groans again and cradles his head in his hands.
There’re so many questions I want to ask him, but I don’t want to break the spell that has him opening up to me. Does his father hit them both, or was Joey lying? What does their mother think about this? How much time are they forced to spend with Joey outside the school year? How does Avery have access to enough money to pay Harley’s tuition, which I know for a fact is over eighty thousand dollars a year?
Why does Ash lie about needing help with his classwork?
I’m still deciding if I’m brave enough to try and ask him any of these questions when Blaise arrives. We’ve been studying for twenty minutes already, so I give him a look. He’s still doing his best to not look at me at all, so he doesn’t see it. My temper flares.
“How kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Sarcasm drips from my words. Blaise ignores me, but Ash chuckles from where his head is still pressed into his palms.
“He does what he can for his people.”