More applause.
“Dalia Mercier,” Mr. Morgan called, and I leaned forward, lifting my hand for none of my friends to speak. “Unifiers.”
A part of me had wanted her to be thrown into the den of the Tacticians under my care.
“I’ve never seen Levi so obsessed with anyone or anything before.” Kay laughed. “I’m almost jealous.”
Cillian lifted a brow. “It’s probably just his psycho tendencies.”
“Shut up, both of you,” I rasped.
I didn’t like that smug smile on Sylas’s face, nor how relieved she seemed. Unifiers would finish last again like every year; there was nothing to be thrilled about.
“Disappointed?” Kay teased.
“No,” I said.
It just made the game even more interesting.
As the proceedings droned on, I delved into the chancellor’s computer since he’d never bothered to notice the RAT I had installed on his device a year ago through phishing emails. He made it too easy for me.
“What are you doing?” That came from Cillian.
“Doing everyone a favor. And they say I’m not a team player.”
Suddenly, Mr. Morgan’s screen switched into update mode, and the slideshow disappeared.Oops.
“You’re one crazy genius motherfucker, you know that?” Kay gave me a friendly shoulder slap, which resulted in me narrowing my eyes on him.
From the stage, Mr. Morgan shot me a stern look, his eyes suggesting he suspected my involvement in the current chaos, but he couldn’t prove it. I had taken control of his computer; the update was simply a decoy.
“Technical issues, nothing serious,” Mr. Morgan said. “First years, I—come to see me for your house results. Monique! Can you print the test results? The computer doesn’t seem to work! The ones I’ve called can leave and get settled on campus, and Monique…”
Gathering my belongings, I made a swift exit, swinging open the back doors. Within moments, a stream of students followed. When I thought I was freed, someone shouted my name.
“Mr. Delombre!”
I looked back and saw a kid with a backpack big enough to fit the remains of a human body. Probably a first year—the type that’d had Pantheon posters hanging on his bedroom wall since the age of eight and, judging by his geeky shirt, played video games online while having no clue how to make real friends.
“I’m Miguel. I’m a Tactician and a computer science student too. I’ve been wondering if you need an assistant or—”
“Get the fuck out,” I said, but he continued to follow me like a damn puppy.
“You’re our head,” he said, “and I have a list of questions I’ve been meaning to—”
“I told you to get out of my face.”
News flash, he didn’t.
“I know you’re busy, but I—”
I stopped and towered over him, which made him retreat two steps back. “Congratulations, Michel, since you want to be involved so badly, you can be the Tactician’s new doggy. Maybe that way, you’ll be obedient and stop killing my ears with your incessant ramblings. No one likes a crybaby. Now, be invisible and leave me alone.”
The boy closed his lips and lowered his head.
I was finally free to leave in peace. I’d saved my best game for last, prepping for Dalia’s arrival all this time. That girl couldn’t resist following whatever dream had led her to this place, and thank fuck for that. She made it so easy for me.
In chess, the king may be the most important piece, but it’s also the most useless. He’s trapped, waiting for his fall, relying on his pawns, just like Mercier and people like him. Those who think they are untouchable.
