13. Soren
SOREN
“I refuse to stay on that floor another night,” I speak under my breath, practicing what arguments I’ll use on the dean.
He may dread the founders as a whole, but he fears me enough that I might be able to pull this off.
It being the middle of the night and him not expecting the suddenness of my attack should help, and while I don’t like to get physical, I will if I have to.
I’m not staying in that apartment with my brother any fucking longer.
I shake my head, briefly surrounded by the dark private hall where all our rooms connect.
I’m alone, and that is such a rare occurrence for me.
I realize my brother being preoccupied with the Offering may be a good thing if it gets him to stop breathing down my neck.
The Offering’s moans still ring in my ears, and I worry I may have to face the issue of my own preoccupation as well as his bullshit.
I am better than this , I think for the thousandth time.
My feet echo on the stone as I go, too angry to bother with being quiet when I know they can’t hear me anyway.
Our private corridor ends, and I’m met with a few late-night students wandering through the halls.
I pass them, turning to take a detour through the astronomy department.
Swaths of open black sky show behind the glass ceiling.
The night is surprisingly starry compared to how gray the day was, and impossibly bright spots of light illuminate the cosmos.
I know I’m extremely far gone because I do not give one fuck about which constellations are out tonight.
The founding families may be too far gone to listen, but there are a thousand empty rooms here, and Dean Warner can find one for me.
I march the rest of the way across the castle-like university, with two destinations in mind.
He works late sometimes, so I’ll try his office first, and if not, I’ll give him a piece of my mind back in his quarters.
I come around the corner, his office in sight, light on, door cracked, and him definitely inside.
I aim to push the door open with a bang and just explode all of this internal struggle, but at the last possible second, I realize someone else is already inside.
I jump back, perhaps already too late if they noticed my shadow across the crack of the door.
Subterfuge is instinct here, and you never pass up an opportunity to get some dirt on someone.
I may be better than them, but I’m not perfect.
No one in this lifestyle has a real chance of being good.
My back presses against the wall as I listen very intently.
You never know what information might help you screw someone over.
A familiar voice slips from between the cracks, and my eyebrow rises as I realize my very best friend Parker is inside.
He’s talking too low to hear until the dean asks something of him.
“I know I owe you, but I can’t do that ,” he argues, and there’s no mistaking it’s him between his size and gravelly voice.
This is extremely strange, considering I thought I knew most everything about the man, and as far as he told me, he hates the dean. That may still be true, but why does he owe him?
“You really don’t have a choice. She’s already here. You can’t get a refund.”
What the fuck does that mean? Before I can get any further information, the door opens, and I’m faced with Dean Warner and Parker as they exit.
“Soren.” He coughs, reaching for his tie to straighten it like he’s been caught. “How long have you been waiting?” he asks, but what he really means is how long have you been listening. Unfortunately, it isn't long enough to know what the hell they’re doing. “Did you need to speak with me?”
“No,” I answer shortly, enjoying the way the tension builds on his face as he hopes for more of an explanation.
He and Parker must really be up to something for how concerned he is that I may have found out.
My eyes shift to my best friend, and I wonder how close we are.
Parker stares at me with a mix of distrust and something resembling fear, but what could he have done that would shake him?
He’s the star athlete, the golden boy. If anyone is bulletproof around here, it’s him.
So why would he need to keep such deep secrets?
“What are you doing here, Park?” I ask.
“Just dealing with some things,” he answers too fast.
“What things?” I ask, one eyebrow shooting halfway up my forehead.
“Uh, well, boys, I’m heading off for the evening,” Dean Warner says as he hustles away.
I have a lot more to say to him, but I can deal with that another time.
My glare burns his back as he goes. He turns twice to check if I've stopped watching.
Parker and I stand in silence as the dean turns the corner, but my best friend doesn't offer me any answers.
He walks off, going in the opposite direction from the dean and the wrong way for our floor.
“What the fuck was that?” I demand from a few feet behind him. “What do you owe him for?”
“It’s none of your business, Soren. Just drop it,” he says, picking up his pace.
“You’re not dumb enough to ask these assholes for favors, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“You’re fucking lying.”
He stops, turning on his heel to face me. “Jesus, Soren. Am I lying? Why are you here this late anyway?”
My jaw sets, and the anger flashing behind my eyes is enough of an answer for him. I won’t tell him shit because I don’t trust him not to warn my brother. He wants me in on this too.
“None of your damn business.”
To my surprise, he laughs. “Is this about the Offering? The new one showed up today, and you’re pissed again?” he taunts.
When I don’t reply, he turns back around and keeps walking, shaking his head as he goes. “The Offering is a Bellthorn tradition. You need to let it go.”
I follow him. “There are a lot of traditions that ought to die.”
“It’s a perk of being a founding family member.”
“It’s not a perk. It’s a manipulation tactic.”
“Life itself is a manipulation tactic. Ask your mother how she feels about giving birth to you.” His comment doesn’t sting, but it does piss me off. I roll my eyes. The fact that my mother is a heartless bitch is irrelevant right now.
“Refuse to open the door and tradition will die,” I argue, already knowing I’m fighting a losing battle.
“And be as sour as you?” he taunts. “If you opened the door and fucked her, I guarantee you wouldn’t regret it. Especially this time.” There’s a hint of intrigue in his voice, and I hate to admit it works on me. I’m curious.
“I’ve never opened that door, and I won’t start now.” But really, I’m asking him to tell me why.
“Don’t be so sure.”
I won’t . Not when I’m this close to graduating and leaving this place.
Not when he’s clearly trying to distract me.
He and I have been best friends ever since Hadrian turned his back on me years ago.
We’ve been through a lot together. Enough for me to know that he’s lying about the dean, and I’m sure he’s gotten himself into some real problems. He’s too excited about this Offering. Things are no longer adding up.
“Why are all of you acting so fucking weird about her?” I demand.
He faces me to whisper, “It’s Sable, okay?”
“Sable?” I say at full volume. The name repeats in my head. “That girl you used to have a crush?—”
“Shut the fuck up. You know who she is.” He balls his hand into a fist, and I’m even more curious than angry now.
“If you’re trying to distract me from what I heard, it’s not going to work.” But now I’m lying because it’s already working. Why the hell would Sable be our Offering? No. That’s impossible.
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Sure, the Sable Briarwick is our whore for the year.” I snort.
Parker’s eyebrows arch, and he keeps his gaze steady on me. His mouth is flat, and I dare to say I’ve never seen him so serious.
“The Briarwicks are loaded,” I argue his silence.
“Not anymore. You remember what happened to her father.” He shrugs. Everyone does, but she has more than him to keep her out of our clutches.
“Yes, but?—”
“But nothing,” he says, walking away from me, and this time, I’m too distracted to chase him. “Now tell me again you won’t open that door,” he says as he turns the corner, leaving me behind.