19. Blake
Blake
W hen Venetia and Viper return, one look at her face tells me everything I need to know: the conversation with Anton has yielded answers, and none of them are good.
Rafferty has returned with bags of food, which we will need to ration until we figure out something more permanent.
Leaving here isn’t an option. It will be retaken, and we have come too far to surrender now.
“Sit down,” she says, her voice carrying an authority that wasn’t there before. “All of you.”
I set the tablet aside and give Venetia my full attention. In business, war, and life, information is the only currency that matters, and judging by her expression, she’s about to make us all very rich indeed.
“The Hale family were founding members of the organisation that became the Graduates,” she says. “Architects of the trafficking network, going back several hundred years.”
The words hit me like a carefully placed punch—not unexpected but still winding.
I’ve been piecing together fragments for hours, building theories, but having it confirmed is different.
It’s one thing to suspect the queen on your board has connections to the enemy.
It’s another thing to learn she’s descended from the people who created the enemy.
“My great-great-grandfather, Edmund Corbyn, chose to burn it all down rather than let it pass to his sons. He married into the Hale family and then destroyed what they’d built, walked away from the power, and lost territory and respect across Europe.”
I lean back in my chair, my mind already racing through the implications. “But he didn’t destroy all of it.”
“No. The Graduates crawled out of the ashes. They’ve spent over a century rebuilding what Edmund tore down, but they’ve always been missing the crucial element—legitimacy. The bloodline.”
“You,” Viper states darkly.
“Me. They see me as the prodigal daughter returning to claim her throne. But there are strings attached.” Her jaw tightens.
“They want a dynasty. Marriage to one of their heirs and children to secure the bloodline permanently. It’s the only way they can guarantee their future, reclaim what they lost.”
The room falls silent except for the distant sound of rain against the windows. I can feel the shift in the air, the way violence crystallises around Viper when he’s pushed too far. Rafferty’s gone completely still, which is somehow more terrifying than if he’d started breaking things.
But my mind is working through the chess moves, seeing the board they’ve been playing on for generations.
“You’re saying they’re trying to undo Edmund’s work entirely. Restore the old order, the original power structure. You’re not just a leader to them—you’re legitimacy incarnate, and the treasure downstairs is what? Your enticement?”
The view from my window tells its own story.
We have surveillance drones hovering like mechanical vultures overhead.
This isn’t containment anymore. This is preparation for total war.
“We’re being watched,” I announce, turning back to face them.
“There are drones overhead monitoring our every move. Whatever timeline they were working on, it’s accelerated dramatically. ”
“Because of my conversation with Dad,” Venetia says, understanding immediately.
“Maybe because they know you’ve found their pot of gold,” Viper says.
“And because you know the truth now. They can’t afford to let you think about it, process it, and potentially reject their offer.” I move back to my desk, pulling up schematics on the tablet. “This is endgame tactics. They’re moving to close the deal whether you agree or not.”
But I’m thinking about the bigger picture, the variables the rest haven’t accounted for.
“There’s something else,” I continue, my mind racing through possibilities. “Yesterday’s massacre, the messages on the walls—that wasn’t Graduate leadership. That was too crude, too emotional. Professional trafficking organisations don’t slaughter potential assets out of pique.”
“What are you saying?” Venetia asks.
“I’m saying we have enemies inside these walls. Yesterday’s statement was their work, and they’re still here.” I look at each of them in turn. “The question is: who?”
I pull up my list of students who were left on my tablet. “Lloyd Beacon!” I suddenly shout out.
“What?” Venetia snaps, startled.
“Lloyd fucking Beacon. He wasn’t amongst the dead.”
“Maybe he left with the others after the shooters?”
“No,” Raff says, shaking his head. “He made breakfast.”
“That fucker!” I growl. “He poisoned everyone at breakfast.”
“Well, not everyone,” Viper mutters.
We all stare at each other, swallowing loudly.
“The coffee…” Raff murmurs and stands up. “The coffee. They all had coffee when I went into the dining hall, but when I went to get some, it was empty. We all had tea.”
We take that in, our thoughts racing.
“So where is he?” Venetia asks.
“He could be anywhere. But clearly, we are still alive for a reason.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I don’t think we have to worry. Yet.”
“So, what do we do?” Venetia asks.
“We give them what they want,” I say, watching their faces change. “Or rather, we make them think we’re giving them what they want.”
“Absolutely fucking not,” Viper snarls, taking a step towards me. “She’s not marrying some Graduate psychopath so they can breed her like livestock.”
“Of course not,” I reply calmly. “But they don’t know that.
They think they understand us, think they can predict our responses based on psychological profiles and historical precedent.
They’re wrong. They’ve been planning this for a very long time, but they’ve made one crucial error. They’re fighting the last war.”
“Meaning?” Rafferty asks.
“They’re operating on the assumption that Venetia will react like Edmund did—that when faced with an impossible choice, she’ll either submit or flee. They haven’t accounted for the possibility that she might choose a third option.”
“Which is?”
I look directly at Venetia, seeing the understanding dawn in her green eyes. “Take it over and change its modus operandi.”
“Okay, well, we had already established that.”
“Facts,” I say. “But they don’t know that. But first, we need to deal with our immediate problem. Lloyd Beacon and the drones up above. They’re going to move soon. They want to restore the old order? Not a chance. We are going to show them what the new order looks like.”
Viper’s smile is sharp enough to cut glass. “When do we start?”
“Now.” I move back to the window. “They’re not containing us anymore. They’re protecting us. Making sure no one interferes while they complete their recruitment process.”
“Protecting us from what?” Rafferty asks.
“From the crime families whose heirs they took out, and from anyone who might disrupt their carefully laid plans.” I turn back to face them.
The morning light has shifted, casting longer shadows across the room.
Outside, the drones continue their surveillance, recording every movement. Let them watch.
They have no idea that their plans have just changed.
The storm outside is building, and I can feel its echo in the room with four people who’ve just declared war on an empire that’s stood for centuries. The odds should be impossible, the outcome predetermined.
They have no idea how much I enjoy proving impossibilities wrong.