“Do you want us to bring you back to one of our rooms?” Parker asks.
“No, guys. I think I want to play around down here in the steam.” I hold my breath, wondering if they’ll buy it. Fuck, I don’t want to hide anything, but I can’t be jumping from one bed to the next. They need to leave me be for a second, at least so I can organize my thoughts without the dumb boy pretzel, as Nina nicely put it.
Hadrian nods first, and they all follow his lead, eventually filing out of the room to go about their work for the day. I sigh in relief, hand over my heart, and I only move when I’m sure they have left the athletic department long behind.
Leaving the scene of last night’s escapades behind, I make my way through the hall. A few people are out now, but it’s not hard to find a secret passage back to the rooms. I slip inside before anyone notices me. Lex always hated cutting through the crowds, and I learned enough to make sure to go undetected. It’s easier to hide once I’m up on the top floors of our tower. No one comes here but them—except Arabella, apparently—but they are all in class. The key sits heavy between my breasts, heart beating fast. Nina got me spooked with all this secrecy.
The hall that leads to all of their doors is round. The one with the scratched-off symbol sits between Hadrian and the twins. While I’ve never used the hall entrances much, I’ve spent enough time in those bedrooms to know where each door sits. The hallis entirely silent as I pass Hadrian’s room, and as I predicted, a door with a keyhole instead of a fancy palm reader is right where it should be. I still don’t fully trust Nina, so I’m surprised when the key fits and turns over. Part of me still thought all of this might be an elaborate trick.
The heavy knob turns easier than I expected, and the door creaks open. Stale air and darkness greet me. My hand searches the wall for a switch, and I breathe another sigh of relief when the lights flip on. They’re dim and need to be replaced badly, but I step inside and look around, trying to see what I’m working with. White sheets cover the little furniture left behind, and there’s a pile of boxes I immediately recognize.How the hell did she get into their rooms to get my stuff?
The space is exactly the same as the one the guys have just incredibly dated and abandoned. I remove the furniture coverings, coughing when dust rises around me. There’s not much, but a huge wooden table, an old-fashioned desk, and the regular kitchen cabinets. In the other room, I find a massive bed and a small trunk, not unlike the one in the Offering room.
It’s not great, but it’s mine for now, and for the first time in a long time, I feel in charge of my own destiny. In the bathroom, I find old towels, but no soap or anything. I think about going to find some and taking a bath, but instead, I wind up just staring at myself in the mirror. Uncovering the bandage, I face what my uncle did to me head-on for the first time.
The letters are red and angry, and I don’t know how they’ll look when they heal, but I fear it will always be a horrible sight. Tears fall, and I’m incredibly grateful to Nina for allowing me to be alone. A moment to myself to lick my wounds seems to be exactly what I needed. I curl up in the bed after that and cry for a long time over so very many things.
CHAPTER 42
LEX
My oneand only class I could not avoid is done, and the energy I’ve tried to contain all morning threatens to burst straight out of me. No way will Sable be walking around the school with nowhere to go while Arabella Aragona comes and goes from the room meant for Sable as she pleases. I won’t stand for it.
Stepping into the dean’s office, I speak before anyone has even acknowledged me. “I want to see Julian Hollow,” I tell the secretary.
She’s a small thing, even shorter than Sable, with tortoise-shell glasses and curly brown bangs. She narrows her eyes at me. “Mr. Hollow is busy.”
The excuse is a rehearsed one, I’m sure. Julian is a bastard, and student care is far from his top priority. He’s self-important enough to refuse to see any student, but I’m not here as a fucking student. I’m here as a Founder. Whether he likes it or not, he accepted this position, and that means answering to every one of us.
“Tell him Alexander Morwen is here.”
Her mouth opens and closes, as if whatever she planned to say next no longer fits. Her chin dips in a little nod as she lifts thephone and presses the button to connect with Julian. She speaks into the phone, eyes lifting to mine as she repeats my name. She nods once more before hanging up.
“You can go ahead, Mr. Morwen.”
“Thank you,” I say out of pure force of courtesy.
I walk toward the office, not entirely sure what to expect from our conversation. I know the dean well through rumor, but I’ve only seen him in person a handful of times. Parker’s family follows our traditions, and certain honors extended between the Founders are hard for most to ignore. The Offering is one of them, so I hope there is some common ground to be found here. With my guard up, I push the door open and face Julian.
A man who vaguely resembles an older version of Parker sits behind the desk, looking tall even from this position. That’s a trait of the Hollow family, all giants. However, Julian doesn’t have the jock muscles that Parker has. Instead, he’s overly lean and wears a round set of glasses. He gives me a glance for no longer than a second before turning back to the documents spread over his desk.
“Hello, Mr. Morwen.”
The dismissal is obvious. My dad plays the same game. It’s supposed to make you feel small and uncomfortable, hovering over a man’s desk while he works, but these wolves raised me. I sit comfortably in front of him, one arm thrown over the back of the chair, and I put a fake smile on my lips.
“I need to discuss Arabella Aragona with you.”
“Who?” he asks with a lazy tone.
“You don’t know who she is?” I ask, wondering how that could be possible, given that he personally holds the final signature that approves the Offering each year.
“There are a lot of students at Bellthorn, Mr. Morwen. I suggest that if your friend is in trouble, you let her deal with it herself.”
“She is not my friend, and you’re going to stop trying to take me for a fool,” I say with perfect calmness. “You know she’s been sent as our new Offering.”
The mood in the room shifts, and I abandon my relaxed posture. My eyes narrow, and I lean over the desk, giving Julian a slow look. The games bore me anyway, and I have no interest in wasting my whole day on this dance.
“I’ve never paid careful attention to the names of your whores,” he says. “I wasn’t fortunate enough to be at Bellthorn without one of my older brothers, so I’ve never had the pleasure of an Offering.” He gives me a look that suggests I shouldn’t complain, a gift horse in the mouth perhaps, but dropping a poisonous bitch off for us to deal with isn’t a gift.
