Jace types something on his keyboard, and a new screen flashes on the monitor in front of him, then more files appear on his other two monitors.
“Okay,” Jace says, his eyes moving as he reads what’s on his screen. “We’ve got his student file, his academic records, and his medical file.”
“Anything jumping out at you?”
Jace, like Jax, has incredible pattern recognition skills, and it’s best to let him filter through the information first to see if he picks up anything that could be relevant or important out of the heaps of data he’s sifting through.
“Other than he’s boring as fuck, not really.” Jace chews his lip as he glances between the three screens. “He’s a solid B student, has a squeaky-clean discipline record, and there’s literally nothing in his medical file other than he’s up to date on his vaccines.” He leans back in his chair. “He’s as boring as that hacker kid Jax is obsessed with.”
“Boring outside of that kid being a world-class hacker who was somehow involved in a scheme to take Felix out?” I ask with a smirk.
Jace shoots me a flat look. “Yeah, outside of that.”
“Is that where Jax is now?”
“Yup.” Jace swings his chair in a slow arc with his feet. “But according to him, spending every waking moment watching the kid isn’t an obsession, it’s a job.”
I snort-laugh. “You know how he is. He’ll eventually get bored and move on.”
“I don’t think so,” Jace says, his voice uncharacteristically serious as he types something, his eyes fixed on his monitor. “This is different. He’s not just obsessed, he’s invested.”
“Really?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. “How is that even possible?”
Jace flicks his gaze to mine. “No clue, but he is, and it’s only getting worse the longer it goes on.”
I hum thoughtfully.
No one outside of our family knows this, but both Jace and Jax were diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder when they were kids and are clinical psychopaths. It took a lot of work, and a fuck ton of blood, sweat, and tears, literally in some instances, to get them to a point where they could function in society without the risk of them becoming serial killers.
Until now, I would have thought it was impossible for Jax to be emotionally invested in anyone or anything since one of the main side effects of the twins’ disorder is that they don’t feel emotions.
My cousins might be codependent as fuck, but they understand each other on a level that’s almost scary, and they’re essentially two halves of the same whole. Jace knows Jax better than anyone, so if he says Jax is feeling something for the kid, I believe it.
“But whatever,” Jace says dismissively. “If he wants to spend his time obsessing and pretending like this is totally normal, then that’s a him issue.” He shoots me a grin that’s both menacing and wry. “Good thing I’ve got my favorite cousin around to keep me out of trouble.”
I huff out a laugh. “Good thing. We both know what happens when you get bored.”
“We do, and Silvercrest isn’t ready forthat.” Jace pauses and stares intently at his computer screen for a few beats. “Well, fuck me sideways,” he mutters, clicking a few keys on his keyboard.
“What?”
“Seems your mark isn’t quite as boring as I thought. He changed his last name when he was eleven.”
“He did?” I glance at Jace in surprise.
He nods and reaches for a pack of gum on his desk. “Yup. Your boy was born Damon Blake.” He thumbs out a piece of gum and pops it in his mouth. “Hmmmm?” he asks, offering me the pack.
I shake my head, my mind spinning as I mull over what I just learned.
Damon changing his last name isn’t inherently suspicious, but it’s unusual, especially for someone in our world. Our last names are part of what gives us status and privilege, and for him to have a different birth name from his father is weird as fuck.
“What else can you find?”
Jace chuckles and tosses the pack of gum back on his desk. “What else can I find? Did you forget who you’re talking to?” He shoots me an amused look before returning his attention to his screens.
I sink a little lower in my chair as Jace does his thing, my mind wandering as he types at lightning speed.
I still haven’t told my cousins about what happened at the rave, and there’s really no reason to involve them.
