Chapter 17 Pressure
Jace
My phone vibrates against my leg. I reach into my pocket and glance down. My fingers grip the phone before I slide my thumb across the screen.
"Jace." His voice sharp.
"Father."
"How is it going with the Ashthorne girl?"
I stare ahead at the common room doors. Looking around me. The hallway is empty. "Fine."
A short, amused breath crackles through the speaker. "From what I've heard, it does not seem fine," my father says. "She needs to be broken down, Jace. Completely. We cannot allow her to gain favor or strength. Weakness is what keeps her from becoming a threat. Do you understand?”
“Yes, father.”
“She knows nothing of our world,” he continues, voice tight. “Nothing of what it means to lead. You wouldn’t want to follow someone like her, would you?”
A trap. He always phrases his expectations as questions.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“Good.” His approval is almost worse than disappointment. “You, Jace, were born to lead. I carved you into a weapon for that purpose. Honed you to perfection. Do not make me question my craftsmanship.”
My fingers tighten around the phone until I’m worried it’ll crack. "She completed her first initiation task,” he reminds me, tone curdling. “That is a failure on your part.”
Shame. Anger. And under it, something I refuse to name.
“She refused to share with Tex what her task was. She has no reason to trust us.”
“Sounds like an excuse.” His voice has that familiar edge.
"I will find something," I say. “Something effective.”
"See that you do.”
A pause, long enough to make me wonder if he’s hung up.
“I raised you to be ruthless. Not merciful."
"I won't let you down."
“You better not.”
The line clicks. I reach up, loosening my tie, just the slightest bit. Then push through the doors to the common room.
Noah’s at the desk, typing, the glow of his laptop screen reflecting off his glasses. Luca is sprawled across the couch behind him, legs dangling over the armrest, his tie loose and blazer missing. Tex sits rigidly in a chair, scrolling on his phone.
"There he is," Luca drawls, sitting up with a lazy stretch. “Thought you died.”
"Got held up." I slide into the seat next to Noah. "Find anything?"
Noah nods, swiveling the laptop over so I can see his screen. “Yeah, found a police report. Open investigation."
"What did she do?"
"She didn't do anything. She's the victim."
Victim?
That catches me off guard.
I saw the school pictures Noah was able to pull from her last school. She looked like a street rat.
Dull, brown hair yanked back, strands falling everywhere, oversized hoodie, hollow cheeks, eyes too big for her face. No smile. Plain.
“What happened?” I ask.
Noah clicks a folder. The screen fills with tiny thumbnails.
"She claims her stepdad raped her." Another click. “Here. Hospital records.”
The page is cold, clinical text.
"She was brought in by some random man that almost hit her with his car. She stumbled out into the street and passed out. She was rushed into surgery for internal bleeding from a tear in her liver. Evidence of rape so they waited until she woke up for the kit.”
My jaw tightens. I don’t flinch, but I feel the others go still.
Tex walks over to stand behind us. "When was this?”
“A couple of months ago. On her eighteenth birthday." Noah pushes his glasses up on his nose.
I flip through the images, enlarging one after another. The bruises. Torn skin. Fear in her eyes.
Perfect ammunition.
"Blow them up,” I say. “Print them. We'll have people put them up all over the school so she can't escape it."
"No," Tex barks out.
I turn, his posture is stiff, fists clenching and unclenching.
"That's fucked up,” he says. “Think of something else."
"Why do you care?" I ask.
"I don't," he shoots back too quickly, making my eyes narrow. "But no one deserves to have the worst day of their life thrown in their face."
"She needs to leave.” I lean back in my chair. “Go back to the shithole she crawled out of."
"Why?" Luca tilts his head, baffled. "I mean, sure, I get it, if she takes over, you don't get to, but who cares?"
The pressure starts behind my eyes. My father’s voice echoes in my head.
"I care.” My tone is ice, no room for argument.
“She doesn't belong here. She wasn’t raised like us. Didn’t earn anything. Why should someone like her run the Guild when we've been training for it for years?”
The room is silent.
Noah resumes typing. “This just feels a little…extreme.”
Tex's jaw works, fists tightening again like he’s fighting the urge to swing. "I don't like it," he states.
"I don't care." I stand, smoothing my hand over my uniform. "She needs to go. This is the best way to achieve that."
"This is pretty brutal," Luca mutters, a frown on his face. He leans back on the couch again.
I turn to meet Tex's eyes. "So, what will it be? Are you with us? Or against us?"
"You're going to push me out because I said I don’t like your idea?” Tex narrows his eyes.
"Yes.” My voice doesn’t waver. “You're here because of the Guild. I’m protecting the Guild. So, decide—are you in or out?”
Tex holds my gaze for a minute. Tension thick between us.
Without a word, he walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Make it happen." I turn and leave the room without a second glance.