I owe a lot to Matteo. He’s the reason I’m alive today. I could just have easily stayed with him in Mounts Bay and dropped out. He had encouraged me to, he wanted to bring me into his organization and have me run it with him. If I hadn’t gotten the scholarship, I would have been inducted and become one of his pawns. I’m not a fool, I know he’s the head of a gang. I know he sells drugs.
I know he kills people.
I try to think about those years in foster care as a story, something that happened to some other girl. It’s easier to do now that I’m here in the sheltered halls of Hannaford. I have a real buzz going on before I finally take that trip down memory lane.
Once upon a time, a young girl finds herself orphaned and at a group house. Another kid takes her under his wing. He protects her and cares for her for an entire year. She is lost and hungry, but she thinks someday she will know what it means to be happy.
And then one day he tells her he’s named her in the Game. She doesn’t know what that means, but he tells her it’s the only way she will ever by safe and free. So she learns. She learns how to fight. She learns how to disappear. She learns how to make others disappear. And then she competes. She is broken beyond repair. She will never run again. She is covered in scars. She can’t sleep at night, she can’t bear the sound of her own voice, she sleeps with a knife, she startles at every sound, she’s scared of what hides in the shadows, she can’t breathe—
She wins.
She is crowned the Wolf.
She could become a leader. Have a gang of her own, make millions, live an untouchable life. She goes to school instead. Gets a scholarship. Disappears. Tries to forget all the things she did to get to where she is. She does forget, most of the time. She forgets until the Jackal calls her home.
It’s the Boar. He’ll pay cash or a favor. Whichever you prefer. The job is small enough. It can wait until summer break.
Despite what the spoiled kids here think, I don’t actually need the money. The favor makes it tempting. I’m owed a lot of favors, and I like having them up my sleeve. I could have Joey taken out of my life as permanently as I wanted. It amuses me that Ash and Harley warn me about him.
If only they knew who I really was.
Chapter 10
“Joey wants to see you in the chapel after the assembly,” Harlow says to me with a smug look on her pretty face.
I’m sitting in the dining hall on the first day back after the break, lamenting all the noisy students after my week of peace. I also have a teensy bit of a hangover after finishing off the whiskey, and I’m not in the mood to deal with Joey’s bullshit. I stare Harlow down until she finally gets the picture and stomps off. I cradle my piping hot, black coffee and try to absorb the superpowers of the caffeine. The school doesn’t serve hot coffee, but I have a small stash in my room for emergencies.
Today is an emergency.
I’m having a moment when I hear Blaise’s voice down the table from me. I’m proud to say I can now listen to it without wanting to die, but I still can’t look him in the damn face. I glance over and see he’s only a couple of seats away, surrounded by other students in our grade. I can’t help but listen in.
“My parents are pissed at my scores. Father wants me to spend more time at home, and Mother is backing him up for once. I think she’s still pissed I went on a tour to Europe without asking her first.”
The group around him laughs, and I can hear the fake tones from where I sit. How awful it must be to have to entertain all these kids who are just trying to gain social status by sitting with you. I’d feel bad for him, but he’s a rock god with millions in the bank and an established career. He doesn’t need my sympathy.
“Father wants to get me on track to take over Kora from him. I have no interest in technology and manufacturing. I’m not going to pull my grades up just for his dreams,” he continues. His eyes are guarded and sharp, and I can’t look at them for longer than a second. Kora is his family’s business. His dad became a billionaire in his twenties by manufacturing computer parts during the first big technology wave.
“At least you’re doing better than me in math. Maybe you should study more and mess around on your guitar less.”
A wounded look darts across Blaise’s face, but he covers it with a smirk effortlessly and the girl who spoke doesn't seem to notice. The lyrics I’ve listened to and sung over the years that he wrote come to me all at once. Living a lie, wearing a mask, walking alone. None of these kids understand him. No one here really knows what it feels like to have melodies creep into your subconsciousness while you sleep and steal your soul. None of them have listened to the same words over and over again, until they’re burned into their being. None of them understand what it means to be Blaise fucking Morrison. If you had have told me two years ago that I’d be listening to Blaise have this conversation at school one day, I wouldn’t believe you.
“Never mind. Obviously you’ll do what your father wants.”
Blaise gives the girl a look, and I realize I recognize her. She’s the girl I saw in the woods that night with Harley. A blush begins to crawl along my cheeks as I think about the white streaks that painted her pretty face. She’s stroking Blaise’s bicep possessively. He doesn’t pull away from her, even though he’s obviously pissed. “Why would I give up my music, Annabelle? I’m already successful, I’ve made my own money independently. Why would I give that up for the stuffy, corporate life?”
Annabelle laughs again and the muscle in Blaise’s jaw ticks, but he still doesn’t move away. Is she his girlfriend? Is she cheating on him with one of his best friends? I can’t imagine Harley doing that. Maybe I don’t know him at all.
“Your parents are worthbillions.You don’t give up money like that for some singing and dancing.”
I snort. I can’t help myself; it just happens. Breakfast has wound down enough that Annabelle clearly hears it and looks over at me. I’ve never noticed her before, but she knows all about me. Everyone at the school knows about the Mounty trash amongst them.
“This is a private conversation. Inferior students aren’t welcome.” Her voice is sweet and her face a mask of placid joy. If I’ve learned nothing else about the human race, it is that the quiet ones are usually the worst. Best to nip this in the bud.
“Inferior? You’ve both just said you’re flunking the lower math class, and you’re not in any of the other top classes with me. ClearlyI’mnot the inferior student.”
Annabelle doesn’t flinch. She just flips her long, mousy brown hair over her shoulder and looks at me like I’m nothing. I consider slamming her pretty face into the table, but then I rein myself in. I don’t need another rich kid hating on me. I need to learn to shut my mouth and keep my head down.
I need to stop feeling all these emotions for gorgeous rich boys.
