by J. L. Beck
A small figure pops out from behind the man. She’s so tiny. I didn’t even see her standing behind her father until she stepped around.
“Hi,” she greets my father so quietly, I almost don’t hear her at all. A shy, almost scared smile appears on her glossy lips.
Then her gaze falls onto me. Her hazel eyes narrow as she studies me with interest. It’s nothing I’m not used to. The gawking and licking of their lips, wanting to be the next queen of the kingdom. They all know that in a few years, my father’s legacy—the money and enemies—will become mine. The allure of danger and the idea that I might protect them from it have them fawning over me.
This meek little mouse doesn’t look at me like that, though. She’s interested but unsure. I let my eyes roam down the length of her body.
She’s wearing a baby-blue dress that hugs her barely-there curves. My eyes linger on her breasts a little too long, wondering if she is wearing a push-up bra or if that’s her real size. When I snap out of my boob-induced trance, I look up to find her glaring daggers at me like she is about to deliver a swift kick to my balls.
Surprisingly, when I glance at her dad, he looks pleased.
How odd. Normally, I would get the opposite reaction.
Girls like it when I look at them, and their dads don’t.
I snap out of the memory, my jaw tightening to the point of pain. I should’ve known then that something was off about them. I was just too young and stupid to realize it at the time. Funny, even then, Aspen was a snake slithering through the grass, and if she is smart, she will stay the hell out of my way, especially since there is no one here to protect her from me.
4
ASPEN
I groan into the quiet room and roll over on the mattress to face the brick wall. The bed frame squeaks with the movement. It’s all I’ve heard all night as I tossed and turned on this antique bed, trying to find a comfortable position. I wonder if anyone else’s bed is as horrible as this one. Something tells me no, but how would I know? It’s not like I had a very welcoming greeting. Not with the word RAT written across my door for the entire dorm to see.
Even though we’re who knows how many feet underground, it’s like I can feel the cold Alaskan air seeping into the brick. I tighten my hold on the thin sheet I’ve cocooned myself in, wondering if I’ll ever get warm again.
Every single aspect of this place makes me want to scream. I hate it here.
The bed, this room, this entire fucking place can get tossed in a dumpster and set on fire. Rolling over once more, I scream my mounting frustration into the small pillow and slam my fist down onto the mattress. I don’t know why my parents insisted I come here.
I could’ve gone to any university; my grades are stellar, my GPA perfect. I’m smart as hell, and until a year ago, I was popular too. Now I’m a nobody, a crux that everyone stays as far away from as they can get. Tears form in my eyes, my anger rising with each breath I take, the more I think about how much I’ve lost.
Why did he have to do it?
I know for a fact when my father chose to work with the feds, he did so out of selfishness. He thought he could protect himself, maybe get less time in prison. The smart move would’ve been to never sell illegal guns in the first place, but what did I know?
In his plea, he gave up info on the Rossi family. One thing my father failed to realize was that Xander was a smarter criminal, and he was able to spin it all around and pin everything on my father. Everything he did, every ounce of information he gave away, was for nothing. In the end, it hurt not only himself but my mother and I also got dragged down with him.
Now he was off serving time in prison, and my mother and I were taking the fallout. I’ve lost every friend I ever had. No one wants to be seen with me.
My father might be the rat, but through association, I am as well. In the criminal underground, a rat is the worst thing you can be. People who are enemies will work together to bring you down because a rat is a loose end, and loose ends can bring empires to their knees.
Sighing, I stare up at the ceiling, wondering what I’m going to have to do to survive this place. Xander has become more ruthless and cruel since my father’s imprisonment. He hasn’t sent anyone to hurt my mother or me yet. But he is the reason no one wants anything to do with us. Frankly, he doesn’t have to do much anyway, not with the shitstorm my father left behind.
People want us dead simply because of my father’s choices. By talking to the feds, he hurt more than the Rossis; he hurt everyone involved in the deals he made, and that’s a lot of fucking people.
A lot of criminals have it out for me, and here, they could easily get to me. Why my mom sent me here out of all places is still a mystery, but she didn’t give me a choice in the matter.
I have no doubt in my mind that Quinton, Xander’s son, is here. We’d met a few times in passing at fundraisers and such, never conversing unless it was forced. Even though our fathers worked together, we ran in different circles. Quinton was set to become the heir to the Rossi empire, and I was going to go to college and become a doctor. It’s cliché, but it’s the truth. I knew what kind of person my father was, so I wanted to be the opposite. I thought becoming a doctor would balance the scale. I would help people, save lives instead of ending them. At least, that’s what I had planned.
I wanted nothing to do with this life while he was born and bred into it. I could only imagine the number of people he had already killed, the blood on his hands. The thought makes me shiver, and I force myself to think about something else.
Rolling off the squeaky bed, I gasp as my bare feet touch the cold floor. Yet another reason to hate this place. The constant cold is going to take a while to get used to. I grab my cell phone off the nightstand and cross the room, which is smaller than the one I have back home. I’m pretty sure they gave me someone’s old closet. I try to ignore the negatives and think a little more positively.
It’s only one year. If I can stay off Q’s radar, then I’ll be fine. Even if I have to walk through fire every day here, so long as I don’t draw the attention of the beast’s son, I should be fine.
Looking down at my phone, I check the time. 7:30. Panic bubbles to the surface as the realization of what that time means. I’m late. I’m supposed to attend the freshmen orientation in the atrium near the cafeteria.
Shit!
I can’t seem to make my feet move fast enough as I scurry around the room, rummaging through my suitcases for clothing. I pull on a pair of black leggings and a light sweater, then slip my feet into some running shoes. I was so tired last night I didn’t have time to look over my schedule or the school map, which I’m regretting now as I stare down at the half-crumpled paper. God knows if I get lost, the last thing I’m going to do is ask someone for help.
They’ll most likely lead me to the nearest cliff’s edge anyway.
I find the cafeteria on the map and make a roadmap of where I need to go and what I have to pass to get there. Since it’s in another building altogether, I’ll have to exit the dorms and go through another set of double doors. The atrium is right outside the cafeteria. It’s not that long of a walk or hard to find, but if I’ve learned anything, the easiest things can become the hardest in an instant.
I’ll keep my head low, my mouth shut, and I’ll be just fine. I mean, it’s not like the teachers will let another student hurt me, right? I don’t even want to think of the answer to that question. I pull my long, unruly blond hair into a bun. I used to be the girl who did her hair and makeup every day and ironed her clothes. That ship has since sailed. To do my hair or makeup would draw unwanted attention.
Making sure I have my key card and phone in hand, I leave the protection of my room and slip out into the hall. I’m not surprised to find the corridor empty and quiet, especially when all the freshmen are probably at the orientation. Still, even if it makes me late, it makes me feel safer to be alone.
I take a look at the map again and force my feet to move me in the rig
ht direction. Before I know it, I’ve reached the end of the hall. I look down to double-check that I’m going the right way and look up just as I’m colliding with another person. The impact knocks the air out of my lungs, and I stumble backward, clinging to the wall for support.
The person—a guy with short blond hair and menacing eyes, shoves past me, slamming his shoulder purposely into mine. The fucking audacity, I swear. All I can do is grit my teeth and keep myself standing up straight.
“Rat.” He snickers under his breath.
The guy beside him chuckles, and they walk away happily while I stand there trying to gather my wits. I should be used to the name-calling, the snide comments, and the hate, but I’m not. I don’t think a person ever gets used to being hated. They just simply learn to deal with it. Ahead is the entrance to the atrium.
My heart gallops in my chest, and I suck a ragged breath into my lungs.
Sweat clings to my palms like a second skin, and worry ignites in my gut. I really, really don’t want to continue down this hallway. I could turn right and go into the cafeteria, but that would be considered skipping, and I don’t want to do that until I really need to.
The double doors ahead are like staring at the gates of hell. All I can do is hope that no one notices me once inside, which is doubtful, but a girl can hope. With no other options, I suck a ragged breath into my lungs and hold it as I grab the handle and open the door. A low hum of chatter fills my ears as soon as the door is open. The room is already packed with students, and I have to force myself to walk inside and maneuver against the back wall with my head down, with my eyes on my feet, and every step I take so that I don’t do something stupid and trip, drawing all the attention in the room to me.
Slowly, as if my lungs are balloons, I let the air inside of them out and breathe in even slower. I can feel my panic rising, pricking at my senses, making me want to run out of this room and back to the dorms.
“Snitch,” someone whispers into my ear, but I don’t dare look up or back to see who it was. I don’t care what they say about me or what names they call me. I’ll persevere.
“Dirty fucking rat,” another person says, this time a little louder. I force my feet to move faster and only stop once I find an empty spot against the wall. It takes me a second to look up, but when I do, I feel intimidated.
Rows upon rows of students sit before me. Instinct takes over, and my eyes scan the room. I hate myself for doing it, but I’m only looking for one criminal’s son in this room right now. The muscles in my stomach tighten, and I nibble on my bottom lip nervously while scanning over each head.
He’s here. I know it. There’s no reason he wouldn’t be. My anxiety mounts with each person who isn’t him until the moment I spot him, and the bile in my stomach rises up into my throat. Someone walks onto the stage, but all my attention is on the dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes. I’m not fascinated with him, by any means.
Yes, he’s attractive in a sort of dark and mysterious way, but my main objective isn’t attraction. I’d just like to know where my enemy is at all times.
I drag my attention away from Quinton and to the stage where a man in a dark suit is speaking. His jacket is off, and his hair is an unruly mess on top of his head. Even from a distance, I can see the tattoos on his hands.
At first glance, I don’t recognize him, but then the dots connect in my mind.
Lucas Diavolo.
It makes sense. The Rossi family and Diavolos have been known to have ties. It’s no surprise that Lucas is here, most likely doing all the spying he can for Xander. It’s just another reminder that no one here will help me. That I’m not as safe as my mother told me I would be.
“The rules here are really simple. Don’t kill each other and don’t get yourself sent to my office. Do the work and learn all you can. You have an opportunity that some could only dream of having.” I almost scoff at the words that roll off Lucas’s tongue.
Like the opportunity to kill is something special. Ha. I’m sure most of the people in this room have already done that five times over by now.
Lucas continues to talk, and my eyes gravitate back toward Quinton. I’m thankful he can’t see me even though I’m sure he can feel my eyes on him.
I recognize the guy sitting next to him as his best friend, Ren. The two I need to watch out for most because where one is, the other isn’t very far behind.
My stomach rumbles loudly, the sound interrupting my thoughts and gathering the attention of the person beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the girl whispering something into the ear of the person beside her.
I’m not going to wait for this to implode in my face. Gritting my teeth, I push off the wall and start toward the exit. This time, I don’t drop my eyes to my feet, which is a mistake I regret to have made when someone puts their foot out in front of me, and I trip over it.
“Fucking rat.” The person who tripped me snickers. “Nobody wants you here.”
It’s a miracle I keep myself from face planting on the floor, but somehow, I do. Stopping in my tracks, I turn and sneer at the asshole, who, thankfully, is no one that I recognize. His arrogant smirk makes me want to punch him in the face, but I wouldn’t even consider it.
Turning back around, I continue my walk to the exit and breathe a silent sigh of relief once I step through the double doors and back out into the corridor.
Ahead is the cafeteria, just on the other side of a pair of double doors. I can hear the clanking of silverware and the buzzing of conversation from where I stand. A group of girls stands outside the doors. I can feel their eyes on me and practically hear their whispers.
Again, I find my heart galloping in my chest.
Do I really want to go in there? The way I see it, I don’t have a lot of options; it’s either this or I starve. Briefly, I wonder how long I could go without food. The answer isn’t something I believe, especially not with the hunger I’m feeling at this moment. A second passes, and I don’t even want to admit the amount of mental fortitude it takes for me to cross the space and enter the cafeteria. My stomach churns, and my hands become clammy. I really hate it here. I hate it so much.
I catch the door as two guys stroll out. I don’t bother looking up and trudge forward like I’m heading into battle instead of getting breakfast. I look up once I’m inside, the bright lights making me squint, and I’m a little amazed at the size of the space. There are lots of tables with bench seating. To think a year ago, I would’ve been thinking about where I was going to sit in this room. Now the only thing I want to do is eat my food and escape to my bedroom.
Following the line of other students, I walk up to the food bar and grab a tray. All of the food is served buffet-style, but the cook puts the food on your tray. There’s an array of items from biscuits and gravy to avocado toast and eggs.
The smell of bacon wafts into my nose, and my mouth waters at the scent. I scoot down the line and look up at the person on the other side, serving the bacon.
I know something is up as soon as our eyes meet. The man’s face is stone cold, carrying no expression whatsoever.
“Can I please have some bacon?” I ask, wondering if maybe that’s why he hasn’t put any on my tray yet, but another student meanders up beside me, nudging her tray forward.
“Get out of the way. You’re holding up the line,” she sneers, but I ignore her comment. Like I don’t exist at all, he places two strips of bacon on her tray. My mouth hangs open for half a second at his dismissal before I snap it shut. I blink slowly, my anger rising with every tick of the clock.
I’m already hungry, and now there is food in front of me, but this motherfucker wants to play games with me. I don’t think so.
“What’s the deal?” I growl.
I can feel eyes on me, and I’m doing the one thing I don’t want to do: drawing attention. But how the hell am I going to eat if they don’t serve me food? The guy on the other side of the buffet shrugs.
“If you want something to
eat, we can serve you eggs, toast, and fruit.” I’m completely baffled by what this man has just said and damn near slam my tray down in frustration.
“Why?” I ask.
I already know why, but I have to ask anyway just to make myself feel better. For the first time, I truly feel singled out, but this is different because the staff is in on it too.
“I don’t make the rules. Do you want the food or not?”
My lip curls, and I have half a mind to tell him no but nod my head instead. I’m too fucking hungry not to eat. So long bacon, at least I got to smell you. He places the food on my tray along with a glass of milk, and I scan my card at the end of the line. I find a table without a person at it and sit down to enjoy my bland meal. How shitty is it that I don’t even get to decide what I eat? I wonder what they’ll try to choose for me next? Actually, no. I don’t want to think about that right now.
I eat my entire meal in less than ten bites but am still hungry. I look back up at the line. If I hadn’t been so humiliated while getting my food, I might consider getting seconds, but I’m done with today and done with the people I’ve encountered. Hell, I’m done with this school. I’m done with everything. I’m angry and annoyed and just really want to go home.
I take my tray up to the dishwasher and then leave the cafeteria. I’ve only just started down the corridor toward my dorm when my heart falls into my stomach, and the food I just ate threatens to come back up. Fear zings down my spine when someone grabs the back of my hoodie and tugs me backward.
Reaching for anything that might provide me some type of balance, my fingers are met with air. My throat constricts. This isn’t going to end well.
A second later, my back collides with the front of a very firm chest. I stand there for half a second before I turn around and am forced to crane my neck back to look up at the two men crowding me.
“I was wondering when we would see you.” Ren Petrov chuckles. “Seems the rat found us faster than I expected.”