Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Achilles
DIRTBAG – WesGhost
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Something keeps banging somewhere, disturbing my messy nightmares, my unpeaceful sleep.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
"Achilles, open!"
"What the fuck?" I growl as I turn under my sheets, throwing a pillow across the room.
Wait. He's not actually inside the room.
I yawn, mumbling some insults as I slowly get out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
Unlocking my door, I hold it ajar, only showing my face to Wren. I kind of assumed it was him since he's my only roommate.
"Yes?" I croak, squinting from the daylight shining brighter in the hallway.
He pushes in. "Where the hell have you been?"
Hurrying to the window, he opens the curtains, and I put my forearm in front of my eyes.
"Whoa. More love, less aggression, please."
He looks around the room. "Have you been holed up in here since the party on Friday?"
"Have I?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"It's Monday, Achilles."
His eyes scan the sheets of music scattered around the room, the takeout boxes, the violin, the keyboard, the viola…and I even brought the cello from the music room in the basement.
"Wait, did you write music?" The surprise in his tone shows he already knows the answer.
I run a hand through my hair, desperately attempting to tame it. The feeling of satisfaction that’s slithering through my veins almost makes me hard.
I. Fucking. Composed.
For two days and two nights, my mind was filled with a melody I couldn't make sense of until I put it down on paper.
I gather the sheets on my bed. They're crumpled from falling asleep on them. Some are ripped because they were shit, and I never want to see them again. But some are absolute gold. My best work yet.
Letting my eyes roam over the first one, I throw the second one to the side because it's worth nothing, and then count the rest.
"I've got three amazing pages," I say calmly, even though something is already coming alive inside me. "Of solo part."
"Achilles, that's amazing," Wren says excitedly. "You're back. What happened?"
Images of Nyx Mayer play in front of me as I stare off at my desk.
Her wide brown eyes filled with tears, the sound of her sobs, the way her cheeks felt when I painted them with her palpable emotions.
Her mouth tasted of bubblegum, and her pussy tightened so fucking beautifully around my fingers when she came.
That's the damage I did with one simple tie around her neck.
Imagine all the possibilities that could open to me if I found out more about her. If I knew about all her fears.
Less than an hour with her inspired a few minutes of my best work. What would happen if I could spend more time tormenting her?
A masterpiece. That's what would happen. A fucking treasure.
"Achilles?"
I snap back to reality, looking back at my friend, and shrug. "I don't know. Just got inspired."
He smiles at me with that handsome face of his and points behind him with his thumb. "Chris is here to see you."
Now that's a great way to ruin my high.
"Awesome," I answer with my best sarcasm. "Can't wait."
The whole time I'm in the shower, I run through the potential reasons Chris would be here.
Out of him, Wren, and I, two have initiated into the Silent Circle.
They did. But only Chris is still part of it.
Not because he wants to be, but because he managed to make a deal with my father that means they won't kill him for fucking them over a couple of years ago, and they still get to use him for whatever they need, as long as the apple of his eye, Ella, stays protected from anything and everything.
Every Shadow in the Circle has to serve a purpose.
They can't keep their influence if they don't have powerful members. Every year, there’s a review, and if you haven’t been helpful, your membership isn't renewed.
That's often translated into having an unfortunate accident that kills you.
Chris is part of the lawyers in the Circle.
He just passed the bar, but they wanted him long before and had him initiate when he was still at SFU law school because he already had a reputation for being a scheming asshole.
The Circle loves a good manipulator. Eventually, his role will be a simple one.
Members of the Circle, no matter the industry they work in, are always acquiring new companies through hostile takeovers, and they want Chris by their sides when they do that.
Smart, if you ask me, and he's stuck there anyway.
Wren, however, managed to get out alive, and took his precious Peach with him.
My father tried to keep them after initiations, but then quickly realized that having two completely unhinged people as part of the Circle was more danger than it was worth.
Wren was their hitman for a short while, but it's not like he gets to live without a worry now.
Many Shadows lost their lives because of him, and the Circle has been weakened since, but not dead.
Never. Fucking. Dead.
There's always a chance they'll get their revenge. Meaning, it's a good thing to have Chris on the inside, and Wren has been trying to make himself very small when it comes to them.
When I go downstairs, I'm dressed in simple black jeans and a black hoodie with three purple bats on the front. Just seeing the animal puts a smile on my face. Sophie’s weirdly obsessed with them, but then thinking about her reminds me of how far we are from each other. And that puts me in a vicious mood.
That's how I am when I walk into the kitchen to make myself a coffee.
Chris is waiting right here at the table, sitting with his own cup in front of him, and he's not surprised in any way to see my usual sulky self.
I couldn't care less. Wren pours me a cup and settles at the table too, while I lean against the counter.
"Alright, what's this about?" I ask, checking the time on the oven. I have to be at the music building in less than thirty minutes, so at least the Silent Circle talk can't be that long.
"Initiations," Chris answers as he observes me.
He's that kind of guy, always wanting to figure out everyone so he can anticipate their next move, press their buttons.
What he never gets is that I have no buttons to press.
It would mean I care about something here, and I don't. The only thing keeping me alive is Sophie, and she's too far for me to be happy about anything.
I live like a ghost haunting this useless town and all the useless people in it.
I yawn, blow on my coffee, and take a first sip. "I don't need to know anything about that. I haven’t offered a woman to initiate with, so I'm not initiating this year."
"You might not be able to get away with that strategy anymore," he explains.
Not wanting to ask why, I drink some more while I wait for him to elaborate.
"The temple isn't ready to use, and the maze has damage from the fire too"—his eyes dart to Wren—"so they're moving it by a couple of months. Your dad still has plenty of time to find you someone and force you to initiate."
The temple is where the Shadows meet. Hiding within the Stoneview Country Club, it's a private area that no one knows about.
And the maze hidden within the hundreds of acres that belong to the Circle is where they initiate.
Since it was set on fire last year, killing many Shadows, they haven't been able to meet physically as regularly as they used to.
Apparently, it's affecting initiations too.
I drum my fingers against my mug, unsure if I should throw it to the floor or jump out of the nearest window.
Every summer, all I have to do is not fall for any of my father's traps to get me to initiate until the end of September.
Once initiations have passed, there's nothing he can do until the next year.
They fucking moved the date.
But what my father doesn't understand is that I’ll die before I initiate into his little club.
"Someone like Nyx?" Wren suggests. "Do we know if he offered her anything yet?"
I shake my head. "Nyx won't be a problem. Even if she had bad intentions, I'm pretty sure she's been scared into not trying anything."
"Achilles," Wren warns me with a pointed glare. "What did you do?"
I ignore him. He doesn't need to know everything that goes on in my life.
"Thanks for letting me know," I say calmly. "I'll be careful."
I put my unfinished coffee in the sink and head to leave.
"You won't be able to run away forever, Achilles." Chris's knowing voice gets on my last fucking nerve.
I turn around, smiling in that way they all hate. "Like you have a secret you won't tell us," Ella always says.
"The Shadows are the ones who should be running away from me," I say in a tone so peaceful it clashes with my words.
"I simply don't understand how they haven't realized it yet.
If Nyx is a pawn for my father, she'll regret it.
Again. But the girl looked clueless, if you ask me.
Just in case, to cover my bases, I can keep scaring her away. Don't you worry."
"So what you're telling me is that she didn't deserve whatever you put her through," Wren insists with a sigh.
"Better safe than sorry, am I right?"
I walk inside the music school building with nothing but a black marker and Post-it notes in my hand.
Every first day of the semester, the head of the department, the SFU Orchestra conductor, and myself, go through listening to every single music student to decide where they'll sit during the months of rehearsal.
They have one minute to musically tell us where they'll sound the best.
I don't have to do it, since this isn't what I study. But music is where my soul belongs, and I always go hoping I’ll suddenly get inspired to write my next piece. That concerto everyone's been waiting for, like I'm some sort of fucking genius. I got lucky once; I don't know what they expect.
Today, I'm not going to get inspired. I have the answer to my inspiration, so I just need to go get my fuel.
And I'm buzzing when I walk through the empty hallways. Every student will be waiting in front of our concert hall, shaking with stress and anticipation, holding their instruments like they’re the only things keeping them alive.
I'm only looking for one person as I approach the small crowd. We have very few students. Only enough to complete our own orchestra. A year leaves, and we replace whichever instruments we're missing with new players.
Pausing at the back of the crowd, I listen to the excited conversations, the anxious whispers, and the huffs of impatient students.
I hear a short gasp next to me, barely muted when she slams a hand against her mouth. I don't know her, but her friend next to her isn't as discreet when he leans into someone else.
"Oh my God, Achilles Duval is here."
It takes all of me not to roll my eyes. Get a grip.
They keep looking at me, the word being passed around quickly, but none of them come to talk to me. Good. It looks like my reputation finally stops them from doing anything stupid.
I'm not focused on them, though. I'm focused on trying to find the girl with brown hair and brown eyes.
Which isn't that easy now that I think about it.
Nyx is a pretty average woman. She's just another violinist who's a fan of mine.
Not exactly surprising. She isn't the first to lose composure in front of me or let me do things to her she shouldn't have.
Which begs the question: why did our little encounter inspire me so much?
I can't even find her in a small crowd of other musicians.
As they all enter the concert hall, I lean against the wall, knowing I don't need to go in for another couple of minutes while they get settled. People have entire cellos to move around the room.
The doors close, and that's when I hear steps running down the hallway. She doesn't even notice me as she flies past me, out of breath, with her violin case in hand. Coming to a sudden halt in front of the massive wooden doors, she catches her breath, a hand on her chest.
That's when I understand that Nyx may not have anything special that makes her stand out. Not her height, not her shape, not her hair or her voice. Nothing except the way she makes me feel the second she enters my space. Because she might be the one who ran, but I'm the one who can't breathe.
My fingers tingle as I approach her from behind. I'm not trying to be discreet, my steps distinct in the empty hallway, but she doesn't seem to hear me anyway. She's about to put a hand on the cast-iron handle when I put mine on her right shoulder.
"Tsk. Late on your first day?"
She startles, barely stifling a scream as she spins around, dislodging me at the same time. When she sees me, her wide eyes go even rounder than usual, and she presses herself against the door.
Fuck. The panic in her eyes is all I needed to see to know with certainty that two days without her was too long.
"I-I—"
She swallows thickly and freezes like prey when I push her fringe out of her eyes.
"Don't be so scared of me, Nyx. It's going to make me hard right before we have to go in."
I bring two fingers to her neck, pressing against her pulse and relishing the way she tenses.
"You're really panicking."
"I need to go in," she forces past her trembling lips. "I don't want to fuck up on my first day."
I smile, and I can almost feel the chill running down her spine. "I think you fucked up the second you accepted your scholarship. But you're right. In you go."
Opening the door behind her, I wrap my hand at the back of her neck and force her in at the same time as me. For someone who wants to be part of the best collegiate orchestra in the country, she weirdly doesn't seem to enjoy all eyes on her.