Chapter 32 #2
Will grins—his kind of grin. The kind that shows just enough teeth to be unsettling, catching the glint of the small diamond embedded in his incisor.
Will finally looks at me. “Define talk.”
It’s strange, he hasn’t looked at Kym once since we got here. Not once. Not a single glance. Or any signifier that says he knows she’s here. Or that he cares. It makes me wonder what could have possibly happened between them.
It would be natural to assume that it’s simply because Will is just an unfeeling person with psycho-like tendencies. But the more I see him around friends—around Kai, Christian and Liam. He’s different.
Of course, I have my own observations about him. He’s worryingly obsessive. He doesn’t blink enough. Doesn’t fidget or shift or break eye contact. And his expressions? Wrong. His smiles? Don’t even get me started.
But around his people, he’s not like that. Not really. And in those moments, you forget. You think, Maybe he’s just a little odd. Maybe he’s just guarded. Because they trust him. Kai, Christian, even Liam.
So why, then, does he act so indifferent toward Kym?
The way he acts around her is… strange to say the least. Not cruel. Not even dismissive.
Just empty.
Like she’s nothing. Just another face.
A pit forms in my stomach.
I take a step forward. “Did you threaten them?”
There’s a sigh from beside me. Christian already looks tired, rubbing at his temple like he has a headache. His gaze shifts to Kai and Will, giving them a look. The kind that says he knows exactly what they did.
Kai tilts his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Is that a problem?”
Will is right beside him now, watching me with a glint in his eye, lips still curved in that slow, knowing smirk, like this is all a game. Like this is just what they do.
Is it a problem?
Yes. Of course it is.
Logically.
But logic isn’t what’s tying my stomach in knots. Logic isn’t what’s been eating me from the inside.
Because I want to hate them for it. I should hate them for it.
But I can’t.
I hate that part of me. The part that never really stays mad. The part that forgives too easily. Forgives people who maybe don’t deserve it.
But it’s just… not in my character.
I exhale, forcing myself to look at Kai again.
His eyes are already on me.
And there’s something in them—something I can’t quite name. Something that pulls like an invisible thread, tightening between us.
I don’t say anything.
Neither does he.
We just look at each other.
And the silence stretches, for a long time, an invisible force neither of us fully understands but both of us feel.
Kai doesn’t blink.
Neither do I.
Something about this moment is undoubtedly dangerous, and I know I should break it—say something, look away, move, do anything—but I don’t.
I can’t.
Then Bea clears her throat.
“So, the plan?”
And just like that, the thread snaps.
“We have a suspect.” Christian exhales sharply, before gesturing to the empty space beside him.
For a second, I think he’s joking. Because I had just considered they’d drop it after getting Sterling to help. But then I glance at the others—Kai, Will, Bea, Lilia, Liam—and none of them are laughing.
Okay. Not a joke.
I step forward, about to sit, but when I turn, Kym is still standing there, hovering slightly, her posture a little stiff. Like she’s uncertain if she’s invited or not—like she doesn’t know if she belongs in the conversation at all.
I give her a small, reassuring smile, reaching out to gently tug her forward.
She hesitates, just for a beat, then sighs, watching as I lower myself onto the ground before she finally moves. She adjusts her coat, then sinks down gracefully beside me.
“Who?” I ask, curious and a little nervous.
Kai doesn’t even blink.
“Dominic Anderson.”
For a second, the name doesn’t register. But then—
Wait.
Anderson?
As in… our Business Studies teacher?
I frown, glancing between them, expecting to see some sign that they’re messing with me.
“Our teacher?” I ask, sceptical. “How do you even know?”
Kai leans forward slightly, forearms resting against his knees, long fingers laced loosely together. He tilts his head just a fraction, looking at me but not answering the question.
It’s almost like he wants to leave me in suspense.
“We know everyone at Brentwood,” Christian clarifies from my left. “Every teacher, every administrator, every board member. They’ve been around for years. They’re family friends, old acquaintances—people we can trace back to something.”
I frown, a slow, uneasy realization creeping in.
“Anderson isn’t.”
Kai nods once, watching me, watching the way I process it.
“No one knows where he came from,” Beatrice picks up, folding one leg over the other. “No connections to any of the usual families, no ties to the school outside of the job itself.”
Will stretches his legs out in front of him, adjusting his camera as he does so. “His record is perfect, too,” he adds, voice light, flippant. “Almost too perfect. No gaps, no red flags, no past jobs worth mentioning. He just appeared one day.”
That unsettles me more than I want to admit.
Because Brentwood isn’t the kind of school you just walk into. It’s old money, it’s legacies, names that have been there for decades. Everyone is connected—the teachers included. They know the students’ parents, their uncles, their grandparents.
But Dominic Anderson?
Nothing.
That’s not just weird. That’s just wrong.
I exhale, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “That doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything.”
Kai nods, slowly, like he’s acknowledging the point but not necessarily agreeing with it. “No.”
Then, out of nowhere—
“The Foundry.”
My breath catches.
I don’t even have time to think, to process, before my body reacts first—shoulders stiffening, fingers curling just slightly into my palm. And what’s worse is that Kai sees it. Of course he sees it.
His head is tipped back against the tree, but his eyes stay locked on mine, watching—waiting.
I swallow. My voice barely comes out.
“H-how?”
Lilia’s voice cuts through the moment, abrupt and confused as she looks from me to Kai. “What are you talking about?”
There’s a thunk from above.
I glance up, and of course Liam has climbed back into the tree, despite almost cracking his skull open not even ten minutes ago. He’s hanging upside down from a lower branch now, his eyes narrowed.
“How ominous,” he muses, then his gaze flicks sideways, landing on Kym. “Don’t you think, Kymmy?”
I barely have time to register what he’s just done before Kym turns slowly, her glare so lethal I’m momentarily concerned it might manifest into something physical.
Liam, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. If anything, his grin widens.
Kym, on the other hand, looks like she’s contemplating murder.
I briefly consider stepping in—not out of concern for Liam’s feelings, but for his life. A part of me thinks there’s no way someone as elegant as Kym would actually push him, but there’s another part of me (the bigger part) that wouldn’t put it past her.
And judging by the way her fingers flex at her sides, she’s at least considering it.
Liam, blissfully unaware (or painfully aware and just enjoying himself), swings his leg again, completely unbothered.
I glance between them, half-expecting to have to break up an actual homicide.
“Liam,” I say slowly. “Maybe don’t push your luck.”
He blinks innocently at me, and I roll my eyes.
Kai doesn’t acknowledge any of it. His attention stays exactly where it was—on me.
“Will was right when he said that Anderson didn’t have any other jobs worth mentioning.
Except one,” he adds, and he’s watching every tiny flicker of reaction on my face, reading me like a book he’s already memorized.
That gets everyone’s attention.
Bea sits up straighter, tilting her head slightly. “What is it?”
I sigh, my pulse still hammering. I guess there really isn’t much of a way to avoid this now. But somehow it always leads back to this, to my father.
My fingers tighten around the fabric of my sleeve as I glance around, taking in their faces—completely immersed, waiting for an answer.
And then there’s Kai.
Looking at me with that same knowing expression. But how on earth does he know?
I internally scold myself because I keep making the mistake of underestimating him. It’s infuriating, but somehow, he’s always four steps ahead of everyone else.
“It was my dad’s shop,” I say finally, biting my lip.
Silence follows.
I stare down at my hands, my fingers twisting slightly in my sleeves, and for a moment, I let myself remember.
I had been there before, on rare occasions. But rare was the key word. It wasn’t a place I was ever really invited to. Most of the time, Mason went with him, and Mason never went alone. He always insisted on bringing Naomi and Sam with him.
Christian shifts beside me, and when I glance up, I catch the loon on his face. He looks… guilty. Like he actually feels bad for me.
I hate that.
“What did he sell?” he asks gently, breaking the silence and I’m grateful for it.
“Just random vintage stuff,” I say with a shrug. “It’s not important.”
“But does that mean Anderson worked with your dad?” Bea asks, leaning forward slightly.
“Did you ever see him there?” Lilia asks.
I try to think. Really think.
I remember a lot of things. The dust-lined shelves, the smell of old paper and leather, the hum of music. I remember the customers who filtered in and out, the employees who came and went. Some I could name; some I could barely recall.
But Anderson?
No.
I shake my head. “Not from what I remember.”
“I remember.”
My head snaps toward Kym so fast I almost get whiplash.
She doesn’t look at me. She doesn’t look at anyone. She just stares ahead, expression distant, voice unnervingly calm.
“I’ve been there before,” she says simply. “I saw him.”
Silence.
Will, who up until now has shown little interest in this conversation, suddenly speaks, his voice sharper than usual. “Are you sure?”