Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Joey’s chest is heaving.
There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his eyes are glassy, bouncing around the room like he can’t focus on anything.
I spare him a second glance before I grab Ash’s arm and haul him over to the body.
Joey begins to laugh. It’s an awful sound, too loud and hyper, and tears stream down his face as he clutches at his chest.
I’ve learned a lot of important, life-saving shit while in Mounts Bay, but there isn’t a damn thing I can do for this guy. He’s a junior—or was a junior. I recognize him from my social studies class—with mousy brown hair and a dimpled chin that makes him look younger.
“Call 911, Ash,” I say firmly. Ash startles.
He’s watching Joey’s every move, almost like he’s waiting for him to strike again, but he fumbles around in his pocket for his phone makes the call.
Only seconds have passed since we got to the kid, but I know exactly how critical time is.
I check his airways—clear—then his breathing…
nothing. His throat is already looking mottled.
Joey strangled him.
Ash starts talking to the operator, and I begin CPR. I’m focused entirely on the kid, counting compressions and singing the stupid song in my head to keep time. When I stop to do the breaths, Ash switches his phone to speaker and takes over the compressions.
“Like this?” he asks, and I start to sing Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees softly, just loud enough for him to catch the rhythm. I hear a scuffle behind us, but I ignore it. I trust Blaise to keep Ash and I safe while we try to save this guy.
No other students step forward to help.
I lose all respect for them, any shred that I had, because only a monster would step away from this without trying to help out.
He’s just a fucking kid.
The 911 operator tells us the ambulance is at the gates, and I bark at the crowd to send someone down to lead them up.
The scuffle gets louder, swearing and spitting and wood snapping, and then a palm touches my shoulder blade.
I flinch and look up to see the EMTs have arrived.
I slide away from the boy and Ash stops the compressions.
As his hands leave his chest, I hear a wet, sucking, gurgling noise, and then a moan.
He’s alive.
I scramble away and Ash catches me by the elbow, lifting me off the ground. I can’t take my eyes off the EMTs while they load him up and start working on him.
“What’s his name?” I say, and Ash pants back,
“Matthew. Matthew Steiner.”
When they’re wheeling him away, I finally look over to where Joey was standing.
Blaise and Harley have him pinned to the ground, but just barely.
Blaise is bleeding profusely from a deep gouge in his forehead.
Avery is standing over them, scanning the crowd with a keen eye.
She’s making her assessment, planning out the damage control required to minimize her brother’s attempt at murder.
I see red—seething, maniacal, bleeding red—and I step forward only to be stopped by the vise grip of Ash’s hand around my wrist. He doesn’t look down at me, but he gives it a little squeeze.
A warning.
“Anyone film it?” Avery even sounds like her usual icy self.
Two girls step forward and hand over their phones.
Avery taps away at them, her phone pings, and then she hands them back.
I watch the crowd. I want to memorize their faces so I know who the truly weak and apathetic students are.
As easy as breathing, I start to notice the behaviors.
There are three students, all guys, who are pushing their phones deeper into their pockets subconsciously, like they’re trying to get them out of Avery’s reach.
I do not trust Avery.
But Ash just stepped up to the plate. He’s earned my respect where a whole group of kids just failed. I now have some level of trust in him.
“There are others who have the footage.” Ash looks down at me, and then when I point them out, he starts calling their names, sharp and authoritative.
The guys lurch forward at his command. Avery arches an eyebrow at them while they fumble over themselves to make excuses.
Avery takes a copy of their videos and wipes the phones.
There are other ways to do it, software and coding that can be done to hack into the phones and get whatever you need out of them. I might suggest it to Ash later, an extra sweep to make sure this stays buried.
I still don’t know why we are burying it.
“Go, Mounty. You don’t need your name attached to this.
” Ash lets my wrist go reluctantly and gives me a gentle push toward the door.
It occurs to me that there are still no teachers or librarians here, and that Avery and Harley made it, but no adults have yet.
If I hadn’t rushed forward, that kid could have died.
I mean, he might still die or have a brain injury, but at least we gave him a chance.
I glance back at Joey one last time before I leave. He’s stopped thrashing about, but he’s hissing at Harley instead. He’s not looking at his face, his eyes are lower, his neck—
The necklace.
He’s spotted the necklace I stole from his room the day I called the cops and had him arrested. I turn and walk away, shoving past the crowd, not giving a damn who I hurt with my bony elbows. I only stop at the table long enough to grab my bag and throw my supplies back in it.
I get to the far side of the school where the staircase to the girls’ dorms is before I see Mr. Trevelen and the librarians rush past. Too little and far too late, thanks to the interference Avery ran.
I lock my door, check that it’s secure, and then collapse onto my bed.
So I now have two lists I’m compiling.
One is an ongoing list of everything the Beaumonts can get away with, which now includes attempted murder.
And the second is a to-do list.
I’m going to need to call in a favor.
“A phone call, Starbright? Is the school burning down? Have you castrated a young, enamored boy? Are you finally coming home?”
The Jackal’s voice settles into my skin like a throbbing wound.
I feel like I need to scrub my skin the second I get off the phone, regardless of the fact that I only just showered.
The banter doesn’t feel fun anymore; it hasn’t felt fun in a long time.
Now all I can hear is the possession in his dulcet tones.
He’s speaking to someone he thinks he owns.
I won’t ever let him own me.
“I need to call in a favor,” I say sweetly. It sounds fake because it is. I’m not sweet.
I’m fucking tired.
“Tch, kid, this is getting out of hand. You know, you wouldn’t have to keep running to me for help if you did some recruiting of your own.
There are dozens of suitable candidates all clamoring to sign up under the infamous Wolf.
I could move some of my crew around for you.
As a member of the Twelve, you have to have people behind you.
This is why you need to come to the meetings. ”
I roll my eyes. He wants to give me some people to start a gang with. His people, so he can always have loyal eyes on my back. In his mind, it’ll make it easier for when he claims me and has the two gangs merge to become one super criminal organization.
It’s much easier to lie to him on the phone.
“I’ve been giving it some thought, and I’ve got a few leads.
I’m looking for very specific skill sets, and if I’m going to do this, I’m doing it right.
I gave you my word I’d be at the meeting over the winter break, didn’t I?
Is my word not good enough anymore?” I finish with a teasing tone.
Some might even call it flirty, but I just call it a necessity.
I hear him cover the mouthpiece and bark out orders.
If you’re with the Jackal, you’re always at war or starting a new one.
When I was just a kid and he first noticed me at the group home, he told me he looked up to Alexander the Great.
All he wanted to do was build an empire.
He enjoys the thrill of the chase, the mental manipulation and the kill.
I think I caught his interest because I was strong.
I think I’ve kept it because I won’t give in.
“We can talk about your leads at the meeting. I’m interested to know who you have your eye on.
” The censure in his voice is clear to me.
Great, something else I need to think about and plan for.
“Let’s get back on topic, I have someone waiting for me.
Someone… went on an unsanctioned holiday and needs to be reminded of their duties. What do you need?”
He has a defector in his office, tied to a chair, listening to our every word.
They can listen because they will be dead by morning.
I have witnessed it so many times, I don’t even need to shut my eyes to see it.
I know which knife he’ll reach for first, I know where he keeps his blowtorch, I know which hand he’ll wipe clean first.
“Joey Beaumont is deteriorating quickly. I need all the information you can give me about him, his family, their businesses, and their history. I need to know how I can safely neutralize him, because I’m going to have to. Soon.”
I hear the knife at the Jackal’s waist slip out of its sheath. I do not want to have to try and sleep after listening to the defector scream. Hurry up, asshole.
“I’ll send Diarmuid up with a copy of my files. He’ll be happy to come visit; he has a nephew who goes to school with you.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
That’s news to me and valuable information, at that.