Chapter 8
EIGHT
I wake up on Friday filled with nervous, excitable energy, which is fine, but the impending doom that rolls in with it isn’t.
I’m used to the feeling, though, which helps, along with the fact that it’s not Harley’s plan for Rory that has me on high alert.
I’m not worried about our ability to deal with that almost-rapist asshole, and the fact that we’re finally getting him out of Avery’s general vicinity is perfect.
Nope, none of that is the issue here at all.
I’m going to tell Avery that I’m the Wolf.
Now that Rory is being erased from the list and Annabelle is, apparently, on limited time, we have to focus on the real danger in this school; Joey.
The more I look into Joey, the more certain I am that it’ll take connections from my life back in the Bay to deal with him without paying a price I’m not willing to bear.
I’ve always known I’d tell Avery someday, when we’d shared enough secrets and built a solid foundation to our friendship.
I trust her, I have from the start, but we agreed to keep to our secret-a-day routine and so far, I’ve told her all of the terrible, ugly, brutal parts of my life that aren’t strictly Twelve related.
None of that changes the fact that I’m shitting myself about telling her.
I’m actually happy for the first time in my life.
I have a best friend, I have two other sort-of friends, and I’m hopeful Ash will come around.
Avery already knows I have some involvement with the Twelve and the shady, criminal world that comes with it, but knowing I’m a member?
Knowing what I do for money? That might be a deal-breaker.
I should have told her sooner, before I got so used to having her in my life, because if this all goes wrong… God, it’s going to suck.
So, I avoid thinking of the train wreck about to happen until I absolutely have to.
I drink two cups of coffee while I get ready.
Avery laughs at me as I jitter my way around the kitchen and bathroom, and when I consider making a third cup, she tries to cut off my caffeine supply.
A solid deathly glare fixes that, and she even makes us both cups to go.
“We’ll meet at the library after class to sort out your biology notes. We can leave there together to go to the football game,” I say, taking the cup from her with a smile.
Grimacing, she nods and takes a deep gulp from her own cup as if it’ll fix all her problems. She’s less than ecstatic about Harley asking us to go to the football game; she hates every single thing about the sport.
Only the lure of watching Rory’s downfall manages to convince her, and I do my best to distract her for the rest of the day.
Harley notices her mood, and the extra pep in my step, but doesn’t comment on any of it until the end of our last class. He gives me a little grin, evil twinkling in his stunning blue eyes, and says, “See you there, Mounty.”
I take a second to remember that oxygen is something I need before I head off to meet Avery.
She beats me there and is sitting at my tutoring desk, already working on her notes.
I help, just little pointers here and there, but once we’ve got it polished, I don’t immediately get up or check in with her like I normally would.
It’s a red flag; she notices because of course she does, but when she raises an eyebrow at me, I still can’t say a word.
Now she looks worried, but Avery Beaumont doesn’t do worry like other girls. Her worry looks ice cold, razor sharp, dripping with acid that eats to the bone. I usually love it, fucking adore it, just not right now when I’m about to potentially set fire to the friendship I desperately want to keep.
When I’m certain I’m going to throw up if we don’t get this over with, I finally force myself to speak. “What’s your truth for the day?”
She doesn’t react, only surveys the room with a cold look.
Students scurry away from our table and she smirks at me.
“Hmm. 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 every day was not her husband.
I’d seen her lipstick on his neck and deduced 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 has pulled back the curtain and I am finally seeing just how Avery Beaumont has become the force of nature that she is. Why am I not surprised she started her campaigns in elementary school?
“It was a pivotal moment 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 watches me for a minute before folding 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 does 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 have 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, then she gives the slightest nod.
The tension is killing me, so I finally bite the bullet and just say it.
“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’ve never seen her react like this to anything. The look she’s giving me is so not Avery Beaumont, and I fidget and sweat with nerves.
When she doesn’t even attempt to speak, I continue, “I choose 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 toward us expecting something dire.
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 with a savage but smug look on her face and her bra in full view.
It’s gross and pisses me off enough that I can level a glare at Blaise for once, but he promptly ignores it as he scrambles over to Avery.
“Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” His voice sounds wrong, throaty and raspy from all 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 judgment.”
Then he pulls out a chair next to me and all but collapses into it. Annabelle glares and tries to pull the chair out next to him. He stops her and refuses to look at her. It is so awkward that 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 texted 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 it’s 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 it’s 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 is 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. But 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?”