Chapter 9
NINE
Avery leaves the football game with Ash, and I walk back to our room with that same cloud of doom hanging over my head.
Her bags are packed and waiting by the door and for a heart-stopping second, I think she’s moving out to get away from me.
Then I remember there’s no school on Monday for Presidents’ Day and there’s a mass exodus from Hannaford as all of the students go home.
Avery and Ash are both expected to go see their father, along with Joey.
I didn’t even consider going back to the Bay, for obvious reasons, but I’m the only student staying on campus.
It takes me forever to fall asleep, and I sleep like shit. Avery wakes me at five in the morning with a gentle shake that scares the absolute hell out of me.
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 properly. If she hates me, that’s it, but I’m not going to hide from it any longer.
I can’t change who I am, no matter how much I try.
She looks me over for a full minute before she speaks carefully, like she’s chosen every word meticulously.
“I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t wait until I got back next week to speak to you, and there’s no way I was saying this to you over the phone.
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 it’s 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 in a more permanent way.
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.
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 my head.
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.
Dragging my feet to the shower, I smile to myself like an idiot despite how tired I still am.
Relief is buzzing through me like a drug, bubbling in my chest until I feel like I might explode.
I need to channel this high into something productive.
The school is about to be a ghost town, and I can’t let the opportunity slip away or it’ll only cost us later.
Harlow and Joey are the two biggest issues on Avery’s list, and we have very little ammunition against them. I plan on changing that, pronto.
I spend the rest of the day studying until I’m sure the school has emptied out for the long weekend.
Then, I go down to the dining hall for dinner and to stretch my legs and confirm there are no students still haunting this place like I am.
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.
I slip my tools into them and lock the door on my 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’ dorm, 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 freeze there for a second, rolling my shoulders back as I do, ready to dig through her shit for hours if I have to. Then I turn around… and 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 team can dig you out.
It’s all premium 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 has a private bathroom, because all I can see is the piles of clothes and shoes.
There has to 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 are 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 then I spot them.
Sitting innocuously on the bedside table are Avery’s missing Louboutins.
I don’t even have to check with her to know that it’s them.
She has shown me pictures 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 are worth more than a year's tuition at Hannaford, and there is only one pair in existence.
Harlow stole 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 into them, and there are monogrammed blazers and robes, none of which have the initials HR.
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. But 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, 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 that I swear it beams through the phone at 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 the frame, scowling, 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 over the photos of the shirt and images I took of the room. Avery shudders and frowns when they come through. “Who lives in that cesspit?”
“Harlow. She’s stealing from other students and hoarding the goods. Should I call the student hotline, or will you deal with this bitch?”
Avery smiles the same way I imagine an executioner does as they sharpen their guillotine blade.
“I’ll do it.”
After I hang up, I shower and dig out the file the Jackal sent me last year with Joey’s information in it.
I’ve read it a hundred times, but I keep going back to it like I’ll spot something that will get him out of our lives.
The problem is, I don’t know if Avery wants him relocated, locked up, or dead.
She’s always so damn cagey when I bring it up, and I haven’t pushed her on it.
My phone pings and I grab it, distracted by the images of Joey’s victims.
Mounty, I’m sending you something as a thank you for finding my shirt.
Sweet fucking Lord. Avery has given him my number. My hands shake and a little nervous giggle bubbles in my chest. Is there a 'Dummies Guide’ on texting a hot, thankful rock star who is also your semi-reformed bully and tutoring pupil? What the hell do I even say?
My phone pings again and I gulp before I look.
She shouldn’t be sneaking into other students’ rooms without backup. The shirt isn’t worth that much. Wait until we’re back, Mounty.
That one is from Harley, and it dawns on me that it’s a group text.
Avery’s added me to their group chat. My stomach drops when I see Ash is on it too, and now he’ll be able to insult me at all hours of the day.
I’m not sure why I’m still so pissed off about him calling me a slut.
I mean, he did it last year and I didn’t give a shit.
Don’t get Avery involved when Harlow finds out you were in there. She doesn’t need to be cleaning up your mess.
Hmm. Not so bad, I can deal with grumpy Ash.