Hanson!
One ofthem!
I already know who this guy is. In our previous high school, the one the Hansons attended, the alphas weren’t theonly members of that family enrolled there. There was also one omega and one beta from their family, but they weren’t held responsible for that offensive picture displayed during Bay’s performance, so they weren’t expelled. The problem is, I also realize that Kaleb is the brother of Kit Hanson, the one who died when we were still in high school, the one whose car went over the cliff.
He changed a lot, which is why I had a hard time recognizing him. He grew quite a bit, and many people in his family are on the bigger side, probably thanks to his gigantic grandfather’s genes, so even for a beta he’s almost close to a typical alpha height. Unfortunately, I haven’t changed that much. I’m certain Kaleb recognized me, and it sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine.
Will he tell his family?
Will he tell them he found Alex Strada? I try to comfort myself by thinking I’m nothing to them anymore, so many years have passed since that whole situation and his brother has been dead for a long time, and besides, I had nothing to do with his death.
I ignore the incident and move on after a few days, but Professor Martin asks for my help again, and I have to assist him.
The worst part, however, is what happens after that extra lecture.
When I leave the room, walking beside Professor Martin and helping him carry his things, I notice three figures standing by the building’s exit.
All share similar, crude faces.
One of them is Kaleb, and the other two are…
I freeze at the sight.
Rob and Vin!
Those bastards!
The sight makes my head spin. Why the hell would Kaleb tell those assholes he ran into me here? Kit, Kaleb, and Rob are brothers. Well, they were, since Kit is dead. Why the hell did they come here?
When I walk past them with Professor Martin at my side their eyes are fixed directly on me, intense and pervasive, and I’m on the verge of fainting.
Professor Martin keeps talking about some college matters, and I nod along, but my head is buzzing with anxiety, because why else would they show up here except because of me. Me! For fuck’s sake.
What now? Was this just their way of showing me that they see me, that they remember, that I’m not forgotten, or are they planning something more?
When I get home, Dereck is luckily already there, and I immediately tell him what happened, because he knew all of them too, even longer than I did, especially Kaleb, since he stayed at the old high school after we left.
Dereck makes a strange face and says,
"You know, I didn’t want to tell you this, but after you two left our high school, Kaleb spread a lot of ugly things about you and Bay. He even once said his family believes you two are responsible for his brother’s and his cousins’ deaths. His grandfather, Eugene, tried pushing for an investigation, but the police shut it down for lack of evidence."
Hearing that, I go pale.
"What are you talking about, how could he say that publicly at school?"
Dereck bites his lip nervously, then speaks quietly.
"At one party I was at, Kaleb got really drunk and said something strange. He said that the three of them, the ones who died on that cliff, you know, including his brother, had plannedrevenge on Bay that day. The day they died. They drove out to carry it out."
I stare at him wide-eyed, not understanding any of this.
"I thought they just died on the cliff. A speeding accident. Bay never told me anything." My voice breaks a little. "Maybe they never made it? They just had this accident on the way there?" I mutter softly, praying that’s the truth.
Dereck looks unconvinced.
"Kaleb said they wanted to ram Bay with their car, and look how it ended. They’re the ones who went over the cliff. Think about how that could’ve happened. I always wondered if maybe Bay just turned out to be a better driver than they were. But if that’s the case, they might secretly believe he’s responsible. Their grandfather apparently kept bragging that he’d find proof someday."
Oh, how well I remember Eugene from the trial. A massive purple alpha in his sixties, yet still powerful, because purple alphas age slower than everyone else. They often reach a hundred while still looking and moving like men in their forties. I remember he was a giant, seven feet six inches tall, with long salt-and-pepper hair. He glared at us with pure hatred throughout the trial, which involved his four grandsons.
