Chapter 16 #2
He unlocks it and turns the screen towards me.
A grainy security feed plays– timestamped from the night of the hunt.
My body goes rigid, bile climbs its way up my throat, and blood rushes to my ears.
The footage shows Safra stepping out of the woods; the glow from a single streetlight illuminates him perfectly.
I run my tongue over my teeth, trying to make out where he’s going with all this.
This video shows that he was there— in the same spot he found Asher’s body— but we all were.
Greyson shuts off the screen, his voice cold as he says. “He was there, and then Asher’s body was found there. You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence.”
I put on my best poker face, trying not to give him any emotion he can cling to.
The image of Thiago, stepping into view, looking like he’s seen a ghost, replays in my brain.
Greyson locks the phone and slips it back into his pocket.
“He was willing to let your best friend take the heat. Don’t protect him. He won’t return the favor.”
The rain starts again, soft at first, then harder, tapping against the metal rails like a warning.
I want to deny it. I want to hit him… walk away from this meet up, but I don’t do any of it.
Whatever damage Greyson was intending to inflict, it’s already done.
The seed is planted, and it’s rotting fast. He doesn’t know much, but it’s true Thiago was willing to let Nico take the heat, not that I tell him that.
I remain quiet as Greyson walks towards the docks. “Pick a side, Zayden”
I don’t answer. I just watch the rain blur the horizon until Greyson’s figure fades into it.
After my meeting with Greyson, I was called over to Velarium, something about an emergency.
My guess is it’s about the assembly today, and has nothing to do with the faculty balls deep in one of the elite’s soon-to-be wives.
The side of my mouth quirks upward. I wonder what went through Safra’s head when the video started to play.
Did it piss him off?
Considering he followed me to the locker room, it’s safe to say he didn’t care, or at least was trying to appear like he didn’t.
I step inside the club, the bass hums low, pulsing through the floor like a heartbeat.
The heady scent of sex mingles with the smell of expensive fragrances and smoke.
I slip through a small crowd, keeping to the shadows.
I hear the sound of Peter’s voice cutting through the noise from the VIP section.
“Allison’s family expects an answer soon,” he says.
I lean against the door frame, staying out of view as I listen in, scanning the room for Nico, only to find that he’s not here.
When I go to pull out my phone to text him, my gaze lands on Safra, who leans into his chair, his sheer white shirt stretching over his tight muscles.
“I don’t want to marry Allison, it’s that simple. That’s the answer.”
Peter’s brow lift. “Then who?”
Thiago’s gaze finds mine, and there’s a small lift to the corner of his mouth before disappearing behind the rim of glass. “Fabiola.”
I couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that wormed its way through my body, slithering up my bloodstream until it settled deep in my chest.
Peter coughs. Clearing his throat. “As in my ex.”
“That very one.”
“Not that I care,” Peter states, as his fingers massage his temple. “You sure?”
Safra gives him a small nod, looking over at Mr. Roberts and Ezra, who sits silently beside his father. “This scandal isn’t good for anyone, and Fabiola fits the image. She’s beautiful, and her family are also shareholders in the firm. Plus, my father already approves.”
Mr. Sergio looks more surprised than like an approving father. His forehead wrinkles, eyes narrowing at Thiago before looking over to Mr. Roberts. “I’m sorry, Christian, you, out of everyone, should know this isn’t something that we can sweep under the rug.”
Ezra pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back his temper. “Why are we so worried about who was inside Allison’s cunt? Why aren’t we talking about who released the video?”
“I’m already looking into it,” Thiago responds, with a quickness that tells me that if he didn’t release the video himself, he knows who did it.
Everyone turns to him, to which he shrugs.
“You are?” Peter asks cautiously.
Thiago nods, taking another slow sip of his drink. “Of course, I am. They were in a red room, which means whoever recorded is aware of the club.”
That has everyone going quiet.
The threat is real; there’s no safe space when even the red rooms are being bugged, and that’s a problem for everyone involved.
Nobody argues with his reason; they all just give small knowing smiles before the conversation switches to business and the auction, which is the guise for the human trafficking within the university.
Like I’ve said before, you are just cattle for people who have it all.
They talk about the numbers and the girls and guys who will participate.
Once everything is concluded, the donors exit the room with their pets in hand.
Petals, half their age, on their knees with flaccid cocks in their mouths. I remain in place; only Peter, Ezra, and Thiago remain. Wyatt wasn’t here when I arrived, and neither was Nico. Elijah is off with a petal, and I remain waiting like a dog for my owner to make his demand. Safra lifts a hand.
“You can go,” he says, his tone cold and detached.
I don’t question him. I only exit the room, thankful that Safra seems busy tonight.
When I make it to the hall, one of the red doors swings open, and Mr. J steps out, adjusting his pants.
Instantly, my muscles go rigid, bile working its way up my throat, and all I can think about is Nico.
I wait for him to leave, the asshole not bothering to close the door.
And there’s Nico, lying on the bed, back turned towards the door, scratches adorning the muscles of his back.
My teeth gnash together, my heart hammering wildly against my chest, as my hand clenches and unclenches.
Seeing him like this hurts more than anything I have ever endured.
He doesn’t deserve it, not someone as pure as him.
The urge to step inside has me taking a step forward only to be halted by the sound of Nico’s voice. “Go away…”
I didn’t want to… But I do.
I give him the space, because that’s the least I can do.
He’s lost so much agency that, as a friend, the least I can do is respect his need to be alone.
I just wish he didn’t. I’m here for him…
My only hope is that one day he could see it.
I leave before anyone notices, driving my bike back to the dorm.
I don’t wear a helmet as I ride down the deserted roads.
It’s late out, and the streets are still wet from all the rain. My hand curls around the throttle, pushing it to greater speed, feeling the wind drift through my hair, as if it could clear my thoughts. When I make it back to the dorm, there’s no light on, and Wyatt is nowhere to be seen.
My shoulders sag, and the stillness in the space is a welcome reprieve. My feet shuffle towards my bed, and that’s when I spot it, the large box, wrapped in gold paper, with a black bow and a note that says,
My pulse quickens as I crumple the small white notecard and toss it aside before opening the box.
My hand digs inside, pulling out the white fabric.
A toga, draped low on the hip with gold trim and a gold armor piece that catches the light alongside a gold leaf crown.
Fucking Achilles-inspired costume designed by Safra himself—I’m sure.