58 #2
Just as we reach the door to her English class, she turns to me.
“Thank you for letting me have my phone. I was worried my professors would fail me. I guess in the big picture it doesn't matter.”
She chuffs. “I don't feel safe here, Kieran. Mortensen could force my professors to fail me. I don't think he expected me to show my face here again.”
I swing open the door. “Nah, let me handle him. You're under my
protection. I told you. Now sit that pretty ass down.
You call me if anyone says shit, understand?”
I reiterate. Her hair brushes over her face as she nods.
“Good girl. Now go. I'll collect you after class, understand? I mean it. Call me if shit is off at all. A mother fucker so much as looks at you wrong. Call me.”
She forces back a smile. It does something to my cold heart.
She stands waiting. For a kiss probably.
I've made a habit out of it. Though it's not my MO to be so endearing, I need to nip it in the bud until this shit is taken care of.
Can't have the Elites using her against me, because let's face it, she's my weakness.
I shouldn't be a bastard, but I usher her along with a hand on her backside.
She stumbles into the classroom with a frown.
“I'll come back, Nightshade.” I close the door behind her.
I stride with purpose through the hallways, pure ire written on my face.
The plan had been to kill Mortensen, leave and let my girl live out her days to get the education in fashion she’s worked so hard for, but I fucking can’t.
Getting lost in her arms last night was the last of my resolve.
I wipe my sweaty palms along my jeans. I still haven't formulated a plan at all.
It's a curse at times to be an impulsive fuck.
Val and Grey erupt from the shadows falling in step beside me.
The fuckers haven't seen much of me. They know exactly why.
Her. Both of them look perplexed as to what the hell is happening within Grimshaw.
I've been absent, so they must think I'm out of the loop, too.
Though I'm still pissed at Val, now isn't the time to bring old shit up.
I know I started a chain reaction with the Void and my actions.
As always Mortensen will try to find a way to somehow make his fuck ups my fault.
I'm the perfect scapegoat. “Yo, man, shit is intense. The Elder Elites are livid at Mortensen's lack of clarity. Mortensen knows the rules are absolute. If he isn't gonna uphold them, why should they? Ya know?” Val urges.
I square my shoulders as we round the corner. “Handling it,” I grumble under my breath. How? I don't fucking know. Val raises a brow. “We got your back, you know.” He assures me. Despite him fucking my girl, I know he would serve me until his dying breath. My boys are loyal to me.
Grey opens his mouth. “Everyone is divided. Half the Junior Elites are using his indiscretions as an excuse to fuck whoever, without repercussions . . . with force. No more offering, just open season on the impure.”
I snap my neck around. My nostrils flair.
Grey only speaks when he's got something to say, so his words seep into my pores.
“And the pure females?” I ask, curious. If their purity is being plucked from them like flower petals on a rose, we're truly fucked.
Some of the pure females don't give a shit about purity, but when it's not their choice it's a different story.
They'll fuck the other Elites openly. It's unspoken.
But the ones who do uphold their duty, if their fathers found out chaos would ensue. Grey's reluctance says enough.
“Got a plan?” Val presses.
“Nope.”
“Fuck.” He scrubs his hands over his face. My boots thud against
the flagstone floor.
My father’s French doors come into view.
It's the only thing that separates me from him.
Grey's hand settles on my shoulder. “Whatever you decide. We got you. Lead. Don't lead. Just know your actions will have catastrophic reactions. The junior and senior Elites are divided. Off him—someone will want you dead. Spare him—someone will want you dead.”
His words ring true. I can't win. Where does that leave Clara? Can I really offer her immunity and protection against being used and abused? At what cost? I'm losing my mind over this shit.
The boys wait outside the door. I shuck my jacket off, tossing it at Val.
I've waited for this moment all my life.
The hurt does not dissipate, it grows, festering into an open wound.
Now that I've got a reason, it's time to patch it up and supersede his authority with the upper hand.
I let the confidence radiate from my pours.
My boot connects to the door. It slams against the mahogany bookcase with a crash.
Mortensen's eyes fall on me. A sneer overtakes his face the moment he sees it's me.
“Hi, Father.” I grin wickedly. His eyes flash a dark cunning green like a dark, angry maelstrom.
Seated in leather seats are two Senior Elites.
The Andersons. Fuck it all. It's time to take the torch, just to light him on fire with it.
I turn to Jax's parents. “You're welcome,” I supply.
All three of them look at me mystified. My father crosses his arms over his twill vest. “For?”
I laugh, cold and psychotic. Zain has rubbed off on me over the years. What can I say? “For offing that piece of shit.”
Gasps fill the quiet room. I know good and well Zain is owed the credit, but I am feeling invincible. Plus, this way Zain never has to worry about the threat of Mortensen looming over his shoulder. As if it will be long. What's the worst Mortensen can do to me?
Nothing. I've had enough. Oh, how I love toying with my food before I swallow it whole. Mortensen's face flashes with fury. His ship is sinking, and I'm here to watch it fall under in a crashing, fiery heap.