The inside of Rhett’s “office” is a cave. No lights, just the gray of half-open blinds and the glow of monitors. The screens show maps, emails, spreadsheets, the Board’s private site.
Rhett’s voice is sharp, even when he’s not talking to anyone. I hear him before I see him: “No, you’re not listening. The transfer was planned months ago. What’s changed is the terms.” He leans forward in the chair, hand cupped over his phone. Even hunched over, he looks expensive—dark shirt, narrow wrists, hair swept back. On the desk is an old-school Rolodex, next to a pile of manila folders.
“Bam’s here, call you back.”
He hangs up and looks over, spotting me in the doorway. “You’re early.”
“I come when I come,” I reply.
He smirks. “Yeah, just give me a minute.”
I grunt. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah. So we’ve been figuring some shit out about the Kings and the Board.” He pulls out his phone, fingers flying. “I gotta call Cai back, but listen in, it’s wild shit.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a reason the Kings sent their only daughter here, and Cai has been pulling details we can’t access with the help of his cousin.”
He hits dial and then, without warning, flips it to speaker.
It rings twice before it’s picked up. “Rhett.”
“Hey, ya, Bam’s here.” Rhett doesn’t waste time. “We want to know why the Kings gave up their only bloodline to Westpoint. No marketing—just facts.”
“Well, from what Slade has figured out it’s some kind of mafia thing. There’s movement on the North Side. Turf war. You don’t send your successor out unless you think you’re going to lose.”
Rhett looks at me, raises an eyebrow.
I feel the pulse spike in my jaw.
Caius keeps talking. “We have a leak. Maybe more. They sent Dahlia to the Academy because you’re the only ones who can keep her alive. And because the Board made it very clear that she has to run in the Hunt in exchange for protection. ”
The silence is loud.
“What happens after I claim her in the Hunt?”
“Not sure, we’re working on that. Hopefully the war ends and her father holds to tradition and let’s you keep her.”
Rhett sighs, rubbing his forehead. “What a fucking mess.”
“Listen, I gotta go. O has a doc coming to check her out, she’s been having contractions. I’ll touch base soon.” With a click, the line goes dead.
Rhett slides a folder across the desk. “Look at this.”
Inside are headshots. Students, mostly. Some staff. A few adults I recognize from the quad. The first row is marked with sharp, neat red slashes. The second row—different color ink, blue—less so. A few of the names jump out. One of them is my old English prof. Another is a third-year I saw at the gym last week.
“These are the suspected plants,” Rhett says. “Cai’s intel says there’s a rival syndicate with people on campus already. He thinks they’re after the girl, but I think they’re after us, too. They’ll use the Hunt as cover.”
I close the folder, feeling the weight of it in my hands. “What do you want me to do?”
“Same as always. Play the part, claim the girl and stay under the radar?”
“I’ll kill anyone who comes for her. Her bodyguards are weak.”
Rhett’s eyes go sharp. “Make it messy.”
I nod.
