Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
After deciding on a self-imposed sabbatical from my classes, I make another important decision: I’m going to unleash the Wolf on these wealthy assholes and show them some real-life consequences for their terrible behavior.
The things the rest of us had to learn as children, things I learned in the hardest way imaginable.
Rumor has it that I spent the entire week crying myself sick. It’s a popular enough theory that the staff misstep again because no one does a wellness check on me. Not that I want one, it’s just another breach that I make note of and store away in case I need it later.
I don’t cry after the first night. Instead, I plan.
Sneaking around the dorms during the school day is not the easiest thing to do.
Technically, all the guys who live here should be in class, but there’s a chance someone else is playing hooky or is genuinely sick and moping around.
What I'm about to do cannot have any witnesses, so I do things the right way; methodical, diligent, and with consideration. With all of my research and planning, there’s no need to rush and risk life-ending mistakes.
If this takes me out, I want to get even first. It’s the Bay in me.
The ballet flats I'm wearing have the softest soles I could find, and I’ve worn them enough to know exactly how to position my feet and carry my weight so I go unnoticed.
They’re silent on the old oak floorboards, and I chose the black tights and closely fitted hooded sweatshirt specifically to avoid rustling fabric.
There are surgical gloves on my hands from my first-aid kit, and my hair is in a high pony with the hood pulled up to cover me.
I’ve become the living shadow I’ve had to be hundreds of times before.
I remember the path to Joey’s room, and after trying the handle carefully, I shake my head when I find it unlocked. I slip into the room and close it securely behind me in under a second.
I wait for a moment, listening, then sweep the place until I'm absolutely certain there's no one here. I begin the slow and careful process of checking for security cameras. There are no obvious lenses, but I'm sure he’s more imaginative than that. The living areas and the bathroom are clear, but I do find a small camera that faces the bed. It’s not entirely hidden, but it’s not a big, obvious setup either, so it would be easy to miss if he didn’t explicitly point it out.
Typical. Fucking. Rapist.
Collecting trophies is the usual predator MO, but I’m still pissed to see it.
Does he still have the footage of him trying to force himself on me?
Was he planning on sharing the video of the assault as proof he’d won the bet?
He told me that nudes were so common at this school that no one really cares about them, but what about sex tapes?
Would the other students care about seeing a rape?
Would someone even be willing to report Joey?
I already knew the answer to that.
I swipe it, tucking it into my bra. I'm sure I'll find something abhorrent on it that will come in handy later, but I'm really only here for one thing.
His stash.
I walk back to the front door and start a meticulous search for his drugs.
He’s certainly not shy about all of the contraband in his room.
There's alcohol everywhere, whiskey and rum mostly, and there's even glasses half-full still in the sink, like he was interrupted before classes this morning.
I wonder if he's ever truly sober. He must be a high-functioning addict to get away with it. Hiding the scent alone is tricky, and to sit for tests while buzzed must be an experience. I’ve never smelled it on his breath, but there are ways around that.
The bathroom turns up dozens of bottles of prescription medications.
I snap photos of all the labels in case there's anything of interest there. But still no illicit drugs. They have to be here somewhere. After nearly an hour of digging, I’m getting antsy and frustrated at how long it’s taking to discover anything worth finding.
It should still be hours before Joey is due back, but he doesn’t come across as someone who cares about the rules of Hannaford. I begin to pace the rooms as I think.
On my third trip around the living room, I finally hear it.
There's a loose floorboard in the sitting area in front of the luxurious leather couch. I drop down to my hands and knees to run my fingers along the edges of the wooden plank. The gap is razor-fine, just barely registering on my fingertips, but it’s there.
I have to use a knife from the kitchen to pry it open, but when it does, I could crow with happiness.
Inside a small recess, there's a tiny box, no wider than the palm of my hand but a little longer. I open it carefully and find three bags of coke, a fake ID, and a stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills. I flip through the cash and quickly estimate it to be about ten grand. Pocket change to this guy, but it’s enough to buy a lot of drugs for one person.
I take a photo of the ID to check later.
I try not to touch the bags at all, but as I move the box, I hear the tinkling rustle of something else sliding around.
I use the flashlight on my phone to look for the culprit.
There's a small, heart-shaped locket. It's obviously pricey, I'd guess the stones on the front are real diamonds, but it's nothing special when you consider the Beaumonts are billionaires. My fingers catch on the raised edges of the back, and I flip it over where there’s a delicate, tiny inscription.
You before my blood,
My soul, my life,
My heart. Iris Arbour.
Arbour. Joey has taken this from Harley, probably earlier in the year when Avery was doing damage control and Ash told her to let them fight it out.
I stare at the words. They are lover’s words, something private and sacred.
I would guess that Iris was his mother. Had she died and this was something he has left to remember her?
Joey is the kind of heartless psychopath to enjoy taking something of that sort of value.
I slip the chain around my neck. I don’t have any pockets, and I’m afraid I wouldn’t feel it if it slipped out of my bra. The metal feels cold against my skin.
I stash the box back in the gap and take photos of the placement. As I sneak out of his room and head back to mine, the locket swings against the hollow of my neck in an unfamiliar way. It feels like a win against Joey already.
When I arrive at the second-period class I share with Harley, he frowns at me as he moves his books from my desk.
I know I’m radiating my smugness for everyone to see.
I’m using it as my armor for the day so I don’t feel any of the barbs being thrown at me.
The students are getting bolder with their humiliation tactics now that I’m not reacting the way they’re expecting.
I’ve had to watch a couple of seniors do a dramatic reenactment in the dining hall over my breakfast. They both looked at me, baiting me to hit them and risk another run-in with the principal, but the Wolf doesn’t make rash decisions, and today I am the Wolf.
I just watched them with a blank face and then gave a slow, deeply ironic clap that echoed through the dining hall.
Their bravado quickly dried up, gulping and running away like the terrified children they all truly are.
“Where were you this morning?” Harley says as he gives me a sidelong look.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t give him any extra attention. My mind is on bigger things today.
After another moment of silence, he tries again. “Are you still in a bloodthirsty rage, or have you mellowed enough to talk to me?”
“I have nothing to say to you or your little friends,” I reply, and then I tune him out completely. He gives up trying pretty quickly.
The class drags, but only because I’m waiting for the big reveal I know is coming. When the bell finally goes, I shove everything into my bag as quickly as I can. Harley notices and does the same, his eyebrows drawn in tight as he stares at me.
“If you enjoy watching Joey get what he deserves, you should probably follow me,” I murmur, just to get to see the look on his face. It doesn't disappoint.
“What did you—fuck it, lead the way, Mounty.” He gestures with his arm, and I take the lead. He falls in step with me and he's got his phone out, typing out a text with one hand. We get some looks as we walk together, the other students aware of the animosity between us.
“The twins might have a heart attack if they see this, so you might not want to tell them,” I say as we approach the crowd that is slowly building in the front courtyard.
Harley gives me this sort of dazed look, but he shakes his head and shoves his phone back in his pocket. I push through the crowd, and when I finally get to the front, I school my face into a blank look, so the shit-eating grin doesn't accidentally pop out.
Joseph Beaumont Jr. is in handcuffs.
The crowd is full of gasps and whispers already, and all the voices are laced with a reverent kind of fear.
To see the self-appointed king of the school being subjected to something so pedestrian, so scandalous, as being put in handcuffs.
There are three police officers, and while one holds Joey’s wrists, another is talking to him quietly.
The third one, a tall imposing man, is talking to the principal in a heated discussion. I'm sure this is a first for Hannaford.
“What. The. Fuck,” I hear Blaise say behind me.
I glance over my shoulder and see that he's standing with an arm slung casually over Ash’s shoulder. They’re both dressed for the gym, the track team, if I remember correctly. Ash’s face is ghostly white, and his eyes are haunted as he takes in the scene.
Harley nudges me and leans down to whisper in my ear, his breath dancing over my throat. “Please explain to me what the fuck you did.”