by J Bree
Avery surveys the room with a cold look. Students scurry away from our table and she smirks at me. “Hm. When I was nine I failed a spelling test. My mother had just died and I didn’t care about anything. I wanted to die as well but I was afraid of leaving Ash. Anyway, the teacher said she would have to call my father and tell him about it. I knew what he would do to me if he found out and instead of being scared, I got angry. I’d heard all about this teacher from my mother’s book club which was basically a front for day drinking and gossiping. I knew she was married to a doctor and lived a really great life. I also knew that the man that picked her up for lunch everyday was not her husband. I’d seen her lipstick on his neck and made the deduction that he wasn’t her brother. I told her that I was going home to tell my father about it. I told her I didn’t want to be taught by such an immoral woman. She decided not to call him and I ruled supreme in her class for the rest of the year.”
It’s like the magician had pulled back the curtain and I was finally seeing just how Avery Beaumont had become the force of nature that she was. Why am I not surprised she started her campaigns as a primary school child?
“It was a pivotal turning point in my life when I realized I could manipulate adults even more than I could my peers. I also realized I take in more than other people do. I spot things that my brothers don’t.”
I nod, thoughtfully. Avery sets down her pen and folds her hands in her lap. I know without looking that her ankles are crossed and her head tilts a fraction to the right. I call this the ‘Avery power pose’. She makes it when she’s plotting.
I clear my throat to bring her back to our conversation. “What’s the one thing you want to know about me? If you could ask for a truth, what would it be?”
She doesn’t hesitate or think about her answer. “Where exactly does a foster child orphaned by drug users find herself a hundred thousand dollars? Not the money you need laundered, I mean the money you had to pay for Harley’s hotel.”
I nod and blow out a breath. I clear my throat again and pick at my nails. “Have you ever heard of the Game that’s held by the Twelve?”
Avery freezes and stares at me like I've just grown another head. She gives the slightest nod of her head.
“I survived Mounts Bay because the Jackal took an interest in me. When I was thirteen he sponsored me and I won the Game. I was untouchable after that. I still am I guess, outside of these walls. There are people in the city that would not take kindly to how your brothers treat me.”
Avery’s jaw drops and she gapes at me. I fidget and sweat with nerves. When she still doesn’t speak I continue, “I chose to work alone because I don’t want to start a gang or an empire. Instead, I collect information from places no one else can and sometimes… I take people out. Outside of Hannaford I’m known as the Wolf.”
Avery finally comes out of her stupor and squeals with such zeal that the librarian rushes towards us expecting a dire injury. Blaise dashes out of one of the stacks with his shirt untucked and lipstick smeared down his neck. To my horror, Annabelle freaking Summers follows him out of the stacks with a savage but smug look on her face and her bra in full view. I level a glare at Blaise which he promptly ignores to lean over Avery.
“Hey, what’s happened? Are you ok?” his voice sounds wrong, all throaty and raspy from the making out he’s clearly been doing. I try not to let jealousy consume me but, really, Annabelle?! Is he mentally compromised or something?
The look Avery gives him is probably the worst I’ve ever seen. “I’m fine, thank you, Morrison. Go back to your dirty public fuck.”
Avery swearing is basically DEFCON 1. Blaise glares at Annabelle and when he turns back to Avery he actually looks a little embarrassed. “I had a momentary lapse in judgement.”
Then he pulls out a chair next to me and all but collapses into it to sit with us. Annabelle glares at us and tries to pull the chair out next to him. He stops her and refuses to look at her. It is so awkward I want to die.
“Blaise-“
He rubs his face with a rough hand and groans at her, “Go away. I’m not going there with you again. I told you that last night when you showed up at my room, I told you again this morning when you text me, and I told you for the last time ten minutes ago when you stripped in the stacks. I’m not saying it again. Please just…fuck off.”
Avery and I share a look. I almost laugh when I realize we’re talking to each other with our eyebrows, something I’d seen her and the boys do a hundred times but a skill I didn’t think I had.
As Annabelle turns away from him, he adds, “And give me back my Vanth shirt. It was the first one and irreplaceable.”
“I told you I don’t have the ugly thing.” she snaps and finally stomps off, gritting her teeth so hard I hear her jaw crack. Blaise doesn’t lift his head from where he’s cradling it in his hands.
“So what you're saying she molested you in the stacks?” Avery snipes. I start to grab my stuff to leave them to it but she shakes her head at me. Great. I don’t want to hear this and after my confession I’m a little jumpy. I stay put.
“No. I’m saying I was in a shitty mood. I was working on my literature paper and she ambushed me in the stacks with her shirt unbuttoned and no underwear on.”
“And you thought you’d give her one last fuck for old times sake?”
Blaise grits his teeth and takes a deep breath like he’s trying not to rip her head off. Thank god Ash isn’t here to see it. “No. I told her I wasn’t interested and she wrapped herself around me and started kissing my neck. I told her to get off of me and she refused.”
She frowns at him, her anger softening. “How is that a lapse in judgement? You made it sound like you caved.”
“I didn’t shove her the fuck off of me. She kept talking about shit we’ve done together and I felt bad for her. I forgot that she’s a manipulative bitch. If I hadn’t heard you scream I would’ve just stood there like an idiot.” He groans again and Avery shoots me a look.
“I’ll have her sorted by the time we get back from fall break. Let’s get a move on and meet the others.”
Ash and Harley are waiting for us in the bleachers.
They both eye Blaise with something close to hostility until Avery snaps at them and tells them about Annabelle. Blaise looks ashamed for about three seconds before Ash’s smirks piss him off enough to snark back at him. I sit between Avery and Harley, and Blaise sits on the end with Ash. Harley hands me a hotdog and I look at his shoulder to choke out a thank you. His eyes are too intense for me after the day I’ve had.
Avery is watching me now too.
She hasn’t said a word about my confession. She still tucked her arm into mine as we walked here and she teased me with Blaise about my utter ignorance of all things football. I’m not sure if that means she’s cool with me or if she’s waiting until we get back to our room before she kicks me out of her life.
I tell myself I’ll be fine either way.
I’m lying.
Well, not lying. I’d survive it, I survive everything like a damn cockroach. But it would suck and probably hurt worse than having my leg smashed to pieces so I’m really hoping that squeal she let out in the library was a good one.
“We’re not going to have to sit through the whole thing, are we?” Avery gripes. She’s cringing at Harley and I as we eat our hotdogs. Ash looks absolutely disgusted at us both and Blaise is too busy trying to fight the breeze to light a blunt to notice what we’re doing. I frown at him and Harley nudges me gently.
“Relax. No one here gives a shit, Mounty.”
Whatever.
I don’t want to be a stick in the mud but I’ve watched my mother use every single drug she could get her hands on and it’s made me deeply, intensely wary of any type of high that isn’t liquor. I shrug and look out over the crowd.
The stands are awash with the deep blood red and charcoal gray of Hannaford’s colours. The away team is another private school from a city three hours away so their
crowd is much smaller and far less festive. The cheerleaders from both schools are busy flipping, twirling, dancing, and shaking. The uniforms look like they were stolen from a porn set and I can pick out the dirty, old men that would happily risk a lengthy jail sentence to lift those skirts. I shudder and look away.
Avery is still cursing Harley’s name and Ash tucks her under his arm to keep her warm and safe. The crowd is on the rowdy side and Harley’s massive frame is the only thing stopping me from being jostled about. He turns to glare at the guys behind us and when they get a good look at who they’re bumping they settle the fuck down.
“We’ll be gone by quarter time, Floss. Just get a hotdog and enjoy the show.”
He waves his food in her face and she gags dramatically. Blaise hands the blunt to Ash and when he takes a drag he offers it to Harley. He hesitates and then waves them off. I grumble at him, “Don’t turn it down because I don’t like it.”
He shoves the last of the hotdog into his mouth and grabs the uneaten half of my hotdog I’ve abandoned on my lap thanks to my nervous stomach. With an eyebrow quirk he says, “I want to remember every second of this and I need a clear head.”
Of course. Why would he do anything for me? My face heats and I nod as the players march out onto the field. Blaise starts critiquing their movements like he knows something about what's going on and Ash ignores everyone for his phone. Avery reads his texts and they murmur to each other quietly.
I try to keep my eye on the field but three minutes in I want to throw myself head first onto the concrete beneath the bleachers to get out of this torture. Instead, I discreetly watch Harley as he fixates on the game. He’s wearing his uniform, a Hannaford requirement to attend the game, but he’s taken his tie off and put a coat on. I can tell it’s one Avery’s bought for him because it’s perfectly tailored to fit his broad shoulders like a glove. He’s still wearing his mother’s necklace but he’s swapped the gold chain for a thin leather rope.
He notices me looking and says, “A senior tried to get it back for Joey during a fight. The leather won’t break like the chain did.”
I scowl and cross my arms, shivering in the cold night air with only a skirt on. “I hope you made him bleed.”
Harley shrugs his coat off and drapes it to cover Avery’s bare legs and then he tucks the other end under my thigh to cover me as well. I thank him quietly and he shrugs without looking away from the game. Ash watches him and shakes his head at me like I’m to blame for his kindness. Avery nudges him and draws his attention back to his phone.
“Fuck Ave’s, this is it.”
I look up just in time to see a player go down hard, three opposition players piling on. It just looks like a tackle to me but Blaise curses under his breath and the crowd falls silent. Harley’s eyes are fixated on Rory’s prone form, greedily drinking in the scene as the coaching team and medics race out onto the field.
Blaise whistles and murmurs, “He’ll be lucky to walk again.”
Harley chuckles and leans in to whisper to me, “I paid enough to make sure he won’t.”
I smile. Avery tucks her arm into mine and gives me her trademark smug smile. Something eases in my chest and I can breathe again.
Rory never returns to Hannaford Prep.
Chapter Nine
Avery wakes me at 5am with a gentle shake.
She’s dressed already and her phone is tucked away in her coat pocket, buzzing incessantly with incoming messages. She’s stern looking and I push myself up to sit and face her. She had left the football game with Ash and returned to our room after I’d fallen asleep.
“I was going to wait until after the break to speak to you but I know you’re freaking out about what you told me. I’ve thought a lot about how to say this and I think it’s best if I just say it.”
I try to swallow around the lump in my throat but I’m so dry it hurts. Avery waits for me to nod before she continues.
“You saved Harley’s life and offered him protection even when we all hated you. You used those same connections to neutralize Joey without just killing him. If I know you at all then I also know you’re planning on using your status as the Wolf to take care of Senior and Joey. If anything, I trust you even more now than I did before. When we became friends, I told you that I’m an all or nothing person. You’re my family and nothing about this changes that.”
Fuck me.
Fuck me, I actually tear up a little and then I have to blink like crazy to stop myself from bawling my eyes out which is so not me. This whole girl talk shit is messing with me. I’m the Wolf, dammit! Avery reaches over and squeezes my hand before getting up. She struts out of the door with a casual ‘Bye!’ thrown over her shoulder.
I smile and drag myself to the shower even though it’s too early and I have no obligations. I’m going to use the break to sort Joey and Harlow out and get them both off of the planner.
I wait until I’m sure the school has emptied out for fall break. I go down to the dining hall for dinner in case Harley is down there and lonely but he’s a no show. Once the sun sets and the whole building is scary quiet I change into a pair of Avery’s black yoga pants, a long sleeve black shirt, and my flats. The yoga pants have pockets, which is why I borrowed them, and I slip my tools into them and lock the door on the way out. You can never be too careful.
Harlow’s room, a single because she’s filthy rich, is on the opposite end of the girls dorms and her lock has also been upgraded. I take it as a good sign for my hunt.
I’ve never met a lock I couldn’t pick and thirty seconds later I’m quietly closing her door behind me.
I choke on my own spit.
Holy fuck.
Harlow Roqueford is a hoarder. The room is only slightly smaller than the one I share with Avery but I instantly feel that type of claustrophobic you get when you think stacks of crap are going to fall on you and you’ll die of starvation before the rescue teams can dig you out. It’s all luxury shit but piled up like this I feel like I’m in a shady discount warehouse. I can’t tell what color the walls are or what furniture she has. I couldn’t even say if she had a private bathroom because all I can see are the piles of clothes and shoes. There would be an obscene amount of money sitting in this room in luxury items.
I start to sweat.
Avery would have an aneurysm.
I’m smarter this time, having been burned from my break in at Joey’s room last year, and I use the Spy Finder device I use on jobs as the Wolf to scan for cameras. It’s not foolproof but it gives me a better chance of finding hidden security measures and with the mess this place is in I need all the help I can get. Once it’s clear, I take a few photos of the mess, though I’m not sure how we could use this against her. I dig through some of the clothing but there’s nothing suspicious about it, she’s obviously got a shopping addiction that far exceeds Avery’s.
There’s no loose floorboards, no drugs, no incriminating photos, nothing that is any use. I’m frustrated but undeterred. I’ll call Avery and let her know.
I turn to leave and I spot them.
Sitting innocuously on the bedside table are Avery’s missing Louboutin’s. I don’t even have to check with her to know that they’re it. She has shown me pictures of them dozens of times, lamenting their loss, and snarling that the packing company must have stolen them. She’s been watching auction sites for weeks to see if they show up. They were worth more than a year's tuition at Hannaford and there is only one pair in existence.
Harlow’s stolen them.
I look around the room with a far more critical eye. The clothing is in different sizes and styles. Some of the dresses are so tiny there is no way Harlow could fit in them and there’s monogrammed blazers and robes, none have HR on them. In her cupboard I find suitcases stacked and some of those have tags with other girls names on them. Under the bed I find the other item I’m really looking for.
Blaise’s missing Vanth shirt.
One of a kind and I’m just the type of fan to
know it from a mile away.
He’s been raging about Annabelle stealing it for weeks. Avery had mentioned it to me as a possible issue because if she offered to give it back she could lure him into her room, he’d cave for the shirt any day of the week. She wasn’t lying about it.
Harlow Roqueford is a hoarding kleptomaniac.
And she likes to take priceless, one-of-a-kind items.
I take the shirt and the shoes. There’s no way I’m leaving them behind in this cave of stolen treasures and when I slip back into our room I video call Avery. She picks up immediately and smirks at me, one finger on her mouth to silence me.
I nod and watch her move through the rooms of her father's mansion. Ash stalks behind her but I don’t think he sees me.
“Miss me already, Mounty?”
I’m so smug I swear it beams through the phone to her. I don’t even say a word and she knows.
“Harlow, Annabelle, or Joey?”
I hold up her shoes and she squeals. Ash ducks into view, scowling, and then he glances at Avery. I cut in before he can insult me by suggesting I’ve stolen them.
“Can you forward a picture onto Morrison for me? I’ve recovered his missing shirt.”
Avery shoulders Ash away. “Of course. Who had them?”
I text through the photos of the shirt and the shots I took of the room. Avery shudders and frowns when they come through. “Who lives in that cesspit?”
“Harlow. She’s stealing and hoarding from other students. Should I call the student hotline or will you deal with the bitch?”