Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Thiago
The cold doesn’t bother me; I can't even feel it with how hot my blood is running. The wind slices through my blazer, as my eyes track my best friend… My brother.
“Ezra,” I grumble softly, my ears ringing, heat gathering at the tips. Ezra doesn’t acknowledge me even though I know he can hear me; instead, he storms off. He brushes past Elijah and Wyatt, who look just as confused as I feel.
Anger simmers deep inside me, reaching its boiling point at the lack of answers.
“EZRA!” I shout, my voice raw from rage.
And still he doesn’t turn; he continues to walk away from the field and away from me.
My feet move my body without a second thought, catching up to him and tackling him into the cold, brittle ground.
Just like when we were little boys, we wrestled through the grass, both gripping at each other’s shirts, tossing and turning through the space with no real intention of hurting one another.
“You think you get to walk away after that?” I hiss, fisting his collar, and once I get a good grip, I straddle him, bringing his nose to mine. My heart is hammering inside my chest, the adrenaline surge making me jittery, and my fingers shaky.
Ezra's jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing into thin slits. “Let go, Thiago.”
Of course, I don’t.
I meet his glare with one of my own. June was part of us, raised side by side with us, and he kept this from me. Me. His brother. His best friend. My grip tightens painfully as I battle the urge to bash his face in. A bitter laugh escapes my lips.
“Why?” I ask in almost a whisper.
He opens his mouth to answer before slamming it back shut into a firm and thin line. The look in his eyes is enough to let me know he’s holding back something that could shatter both of us. I see it. Worst of all, I feel it, and it makes me want to scream.
I shove off him, my breathing coming in short, ragged breaths. My hair is disheveled, and my blazer is twisted all around my shoulders when I stand.
“You lied to me,” I say, my voice shaking from the anger I’m holding back. “You lied about June. About everything.”
Memories of that night slam into me—June leaving his dorm, bruises adorning her neck.
The look of shame on Ezra's face when he stepped out of his shower to find me sitting on the corner of his bed. The room smelled of perfume and sex. I was naive to believe my best friend wouldn’t lie to me, but this is what this world turns us into.
Liars. Deceptors. And if he lied about June, what else is he hiding?
The worst part is that he doesn’t defend himself, and even worse, he doesn’t deny it.
He silently rises to his feet and adjusts his uniform before gliding past me without a glance. Dirt streaks the back of his blazer, and my gaze tracks each step he takes towards the parking lot. He heads to his car, like this is over. Newsflash, it’s not. Not even fucking close.
By the time he reaches his door, I’m hot on his heels, opening the passenger door alongside him. His eyes shoot up to mine, and a silent understanding transpires between us. He doesn’t fight me as I sit, nor does he say anything as he presses the start button and puts the car in gear.
The drive is quiet, with only the soft hum of the song, “Stop Crying Your Heart Out,” by Oasis.
Even though he hasn't said a word, I can feel the tension roll off him in giant waves that take me under.
His jaw is locked tight, his grip on the wheel even tighter.
Moving my attention to the window, I watch the city blur past us in streaks of light and people.
Everyone is so oblivious to the infection spreading through Coastal Bay.
The corruption is making its way past the campus of Villalargos and bleeding into their lives.
I want to scream to keep my hands from shaking, or maybe punch the dashboard until it cracks.
But instead, I sit in silence, letting the lyrics bleed into the strain between us.
Ezra pulls into these high-rise luxury apartments near the marina—a monument of everything people aspire to have.
Something I learned to hate. Power, legacy, and control.
And none of it a man like me can avoid. Ezra parks in the underground garage, and without a word, he gets out of the car. I follow.
The elevator ride is suffocating. Ezra stands on the opposite side of me, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes fixed on the glowing numbers while mine remain on him.
I think to myself, when did he change? When did he become like them?
Did I miss the signs? Or was it me that left him behind?
My lip's part to speak just as the elevator comes to a stop, and with a ding, the door slides open.
Ezra pushes past me in a hurry, and I let out a deep sigh.
One that empties my lungs before following behind.
We come to stop right in front of Peter’s door, and when it opens, Peter is already waiting, dressed to impress.
A burgundy Armani tailored suit that hugs his athletic frame, Tom Ford glasses on his face that give him a sophisticated yet nerdy look, and a whiskey in his hand, despite it being too early to be drinking.
I guess it’s five o'clock somewhere.
“What a pleasant surprise,” he says as he takes me in. He studies me, not in a sexual way, but like a predator, still unsure if he can trust me or not.
“He followed me,” Ezra adds flatly, before brushing past Peter, who takes two steps back with a grin on his face.
“Uh oh, trouble in paradise?” he asks, shooting a playful look my way.
I don’t respond; I only step inside. Peter’s place is everything I expected—tall windows, high ceilings, and marble floors that echo with every step.
It’s sterile and soulless, like most of us.
Ezra walks towards a door and opens it. Stepping inside, like he owns the place, and I trail behind.
My fists clench at my side, and my pulse races with each step I take, feeling Peter’s eyes on us.
“I’m actually happy you both are here,” Peter begins as Ezra takes a seat, right in front of the mahogany desk, folding his leg over his knee. He waits like an obedient dog for Peter to continue talking, and that he does. “I’m sure you’re both wondering what Ezra is doing here.”
Yes, I am.
I mean, I wasn’t supposed to be here, but color me curious anyway.
Peter takes a slow sip of the amber liquid in his hand, savoring it within his mouth before swallowing it.
His lips curl into a devious grin before he sits behind his desk and rests his elbows on the smooth surface.
There’s a dramatic pause as he studies us with curiosity.
Peter raises a brow and proceeds to talk.
“I want a merger…. Consolidation of power,” he says, like we don’t already know that. Ezra scoffs; it’s a low and pitiful sound that Peter ignores. “I have a plan, but for that, we need to form alliances, which is why I need you both to help me get rid of a problem.”
My heart stops, slamming abruptly against my ribs.
“A problem?”
Peter answers only with a slow dip of his chin, his eyes on Ezra. I glance his way, trying my best to keep my poker face, which I’m sure he can see right through.
“Nico,” Ezra responds to my question, before turning his attention back to Peter, who claps his hands together like a proud teacher whose student finally got the answer.
“What’s the problem with Nico?” I ask, swallowing hard and forcing down the lump forming in my throat.
“I can’t have him meddling in my things, Shiloh helping him,” Peter says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Really put a damper on my plans. He was supposed to take the fall for June’s death, and now I have more bodies in the place of one.”
My eyes bulge at the realization. My brain feels like it’s filling up with air, the pressure impossible to escape. The words wash over me like ice-cold water. Why is he talking about June’s death like that… Unless…
My head shakes slowly at first and then faster, trying to rattle the thought loose before it settles. But it’s too late. The words are already inside me, poisoning me. Nico…
He was supposed to take the fall for June’s death.
The way Peter repeats it, like it's simple logistics, like it’s a line item on a spreadsheet, and not the death of his sister.
Once again, I find myself glancing over at Ezra, but he doesn’t flinch.
The only indication of life is the steady rise of his chest; otherwise, I would assume he was dead based on the empty look on his face.
He just stares ahead like he’s already made peace with the devil.
“You knew?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, pathetic and breaking. Ezra doesn’t answer, and all I can do is stare at the stranger who wears the face of my best friend.
Peter leans back, satisfied. “I need Nico gone, and Shiloh wearing my ring and neutralized. You two can make that happen.”
I shake my head. “She’s already yours?”
Peter grins and then falls into a scowl. “Would you want your future wife sleeping around with filth?”
He chuckles as he pours himself another drink.
I feel sick. My eyelids twitch from the stress.
I don’t respond, the ringing inside my head intensifies, making it hard for me to hear.
My vision tunnels, and all I can do is drop into the seat beside Ezra, afraid my knees will give out.
My mind continues to spin—June, Nico, Shiloh.
Fuck, the bodies are just gonna stack up like poker chips, and we are all in Peter’s hand.
My stomach turns.
“We will get it done. I have a plan. I just need time,” Ezra answers, rising to his feet and walking towards the bar behind Peter.
His eyes track his every move, his lips curling and thinning in a sickening rhythm.
From the outside, he looks cool and collected, but the shake in his hand doesn’t lie.
Something is off. Something he’s definitely hiding from me, and still, I can see the thin fracture in his composed armor.
“How much time?” Peter asks, unable to mask the annoyance in his tone. Ezra removes the glass cap from the bottle and pours himself a drink, only stopping to look dramatically at him and, with a grin, responds. “The end of the semester.”
Peter sits back, adjusting his collar. “Why so long?”
“I have my own problems within the team.” Ezra drawls, “I need to figure out who the mole is within us. And Zayden..”
The mention of his name has me glaring at my friend, my fist clenching so tight my nails dig into my skin.
“Well, we need him for Costa Mar. He won’t help us if we harm his best friend.” His gaze clashes with mine as the last word leaves his lips, and I never wanted more than to silence him with my fist.
Even as the truth continues to poison me, my mind continues to find a solution. A way out where Zayden and Nico walk away scot-free, and all of it narrows down to me. I need to be the one who stands between them, even if I have to become the very thing they grow to hate. “I’ll handle Zayden.”
Peter's lips spread into a wide smile, exposing his perfectly straight white teeth. “I knew I could count on you,” he says with a shake of his finger. “Your dad is a shark, and I can only imagine what you will do with time. I knew you’d come around.”
I can feel Ezra staring into the side of my face, but I don’t turn to look. My gaze remains locked at the man in front of me, as I accept that June’s true killer wasn’t Brad. Or Wesley, how I imagined. The order came from the top–her brother—which means the real killer is in this room.
My eyes widen at the haunting realization that steals my breath, and the truth lands a devastating blow to my stomach, leaving me winded and pained.
Peter's voice continues to fill the space as he drones on and on about the future of Velarium. How marrying Shiloh will grant him more seats, even give him a claim to one in Costa Mar. While also making it stark clear that he wants Nico dead, not just gone, and in that moment, I’m sure my mind spaced off.
I don’t remember leaving… or the ride to Velarium.
I don’t even remember sitting in this room as the neon lights blink on and off.
What am I even doing here? My eyes scan the room, landing on the red fucking door.
I remember now. I should feel disgusted with myself, disgusted with all of it.
I just can’t seem to find it in me to care.
Right now, all I want to do is feel those perfectly pouty lips wrapped around my length as I fuck his throat and my mind into oblivion.
To a place Velarium can’t touch. What can I say…
I am, after all, the villain of the story.
Hooking my finger between my collar, I tug it loose.
My pulse is reaching an all-time high, as my mind keeps replaying today's event, making the need inside me grow heavier the longer it festers. I look down at my hands, noticing my bloody knuckles, and I can’t even recall how the fuck that even happened.
My phone buzzes from somewhere in the room.
I scan, trying to track down the source of the vibration.
With a groan, I lean over the bed, reaching towards the phone that sits on top of the nightstand.
Anonymous:
Tick. Tock. Tick.
My stomach sinks, my finger hovering over the video before deciding to hit play.
The sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the screen, followed by Allison, on full display.
Perky tits bouncing as she takes backshots from Mr. Roberts.
Something like relief spills over me, the brightness shining down on me at this very moment.
I blink away the pressure, but still, it does nothing; the tightness just keeps on pressing.
Laughter builds deep in my chest, working its way up my throat.
The feeling is euphoric, and I fall into it.
Placing the phone to my ear, I listen to the moans…
Music to my ears.
Turns out, an enemy of my enemy is indeed a friend to me.