Hannaford Prep: The Complete Series Page 9

  I should know by now that nothing good in my life lasts.

  I’m enjoying my last day of quiet in the sitting area when I hear my phone ping. I very rarely get texts, and there’s only one person with my contact details. My heart sinks as I pick it up and see Matteo’s text.

  I’ve been asked to contact you about a job.

  A job. That could mean anything from tailing someone’s girlfriend to killing an errant informant. Coming to Hannaford Prep has been an attempt to close the door on my old life in Mounts Bay and to start a new, legitimate life. I had done things at Matteo’s command that I wanted to leave firmly in the past. The trouble was Matteo had no intention of letting me go. I would always belong to him.

  I’m not leaving Hannaford until summer break. The food is free and good. Sorry.

  I chew on my lip for a minute, and then I dig out my emergency bottle of whiskey while I wait for his reply. I’d smuggled it in on the first day but hadn’t felt the need to drink it until now.

  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 stuck in the Bay with him and playing a game that is impossible for me to win. 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 be 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 Ten

  “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 subconscious 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 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 worth billions. 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. Clearly I’m not 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.

  Blaise is sitting there surrounded by people he’s probably known his whole life, and yet none of them understand how badly he needs his music. None of them hav
e looked past his handsome face and his bank balance to see the real guy underneath it all. I’m not stupid, I know he isn’t just his musical talent, but I’m certain that I know more about him than this Annabelle girl does.

  She’s vapid, shallow, and hungry for the immense wealth that being with Blaise would give her access to. “You could be the smartest girl on Earth, and you’ll still never be someone worth our time.” She laughs and looks around at the others they’re sitting with to make sure they’re laughing too.

  I do not need the trouble opening my mouth will bring me. But I do it anyway. My temper is going to get me killed someday; Matteo says it to me all the time. I should really listen to him. He’s killed people for dishing out less honesty than I am. “I’d rather be poor and smart than rich and brainless. You can’t even tell how pissed off you’ve made Morrison.”

  I don’t look away from my breakfast, but I can see her eyes narrow at me from the corner of my eye. Blaise doesn’t say a word, and I wonder again if she’s his girlfriend. She lets him go and turns on me, but I snort at her derisively and tuck back into my breakfast. “Well, that just shows you’re a stalker and he should start sleeping with one eye open at night. I did hear you’re obsessed with him. Don’t you sleep in one of his band tees?”

  I try not to blush, but I fail. Avery fucking Beaumont and that damned photo she took of me in my pajamas. Of course she’s shared it around. I glue my eyes to Annabelle so my traitorous eyes can’t flit over to Blaise. “Actually, it shows I like his music, and not his reputation or his face. But what am I saying? At this school, all the girls just like how much money a guy has.”

  She rolls her eyes at me, and I clench my fists at her. “Sure you don’t. It doesn’t matter anyway; he would never fuck trash. No guy with any self-respect at this school would.”

  I know I need to work on my poker face now that I’m not channeling the Wolf every day, but I manage to stare the little bitch down as I clear up my breakfast. I accidentally glance toward Blaise and see the look he’s giving me, like I’ve just shocked the shit out of him. I pick up my tray and leave the dining hall without looking back. I tell myself I’m not going to hate Annabelle just because she’s sleeping with two of the hottest guys in our grade, but I’ve never been good at lying to myself.

  I’m still feeling hot and irritable with embarrassment when I take a seat at the assembly.

  Blaise is sitting two rows in front of me, and Harley is with him. They’re both laughing and nudging each other boisterously. The twins are nowhere in sight.

  I look around to find Annabelle sitting among Avery’s flunkies. She's gazing at the two boys with appreciative and possessive eyes. She could be sleeping with them both and hiding it. They could be sharing her. I wish they'd share me, I think, and then I shut that part of my brain down tight. I am Mounty trash to them. I need to get over my little crushes. They will never want someone like me, and the sooner I accept that, the better.

  Mr. Trevelen stands on the small stage, and the chatter around me ceases. The twins still haven't appeared, and Harley looks around, concern clear on his face. Blaise joins in and he looks back at me. I feel a jolt of lightning in my blood as his eyes meet mine, and I look away quickly. I hate that I have somehow gained his attention, and I definitely shouldn’t have come to his defense in the dining hall. He didn’t need my help with anything but his studies. He certainly didn’t thank me for interfering.

  As the principal’s speech starts and he drones on, Harley becomes more and more agitated. He’s practically vibrating in his chair, his leg bouncing so hard I can feel it two rows back, and his hand keeps running through the hair at the back on his head until it’s all mussed up. His concern worries me. I glance around and I see Joey isn’t here either. Harlow and that idiot Devon are both present. I pick out all of Joey’s cronies. Not a good sign. I have a sinking feeling that the violence Joey unleashes on his siblings is kept behind closed doors.

  No wonder Harley and Blaise are antsy.

  Harley makes as if to stand, and Blaise shoots out an arm to keep him seated. I can’t hear what they’re whispering, but they’re getting more and more heated. The other students around them are starting to take notice.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Lauren murmurs. She’s been getting braver about talking to me outside of our choir class. I give her a sidelong look and grin, and she wiggles her eyebrows in response. I don’t question myself before I ask, “Hey, do you know anything about that Annabelle girl? The brunette over there?”

  Lauren doesn’t have to look to where I gesture.

  “Yeah. Her family is old money, but not like Beaumont's. Her great-grandfather was loaded, something to do with oil, but then her grandfather made a lot of bad business moves. They nearly lost it all. Her father married her mom to pay back debts, and now they’re stable enough. She struts around like she’s royalty, when really her father is constantly skating on ice to keep them millionaires.”

  Huh. Calling me inferior when she’s pretending her family isn’t struggling? What an idiot. Especially if it’s common knowledge. I guess that’s what they call fake it ’til you make it.

  “She’s obsessed with Avery’s boys. She drapes herself over them at every opportunity. Avery only allows it because she’s discreet about whether she’s actually banging them.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Them? As in…”

  Lauren nods and eyes the back of Blaise’s head with pure lust. “She’s totally doing them all. Her room is next to mine, and her roommate is constantly getting kicked out because one of them shows up.”

  Yep. I hate her. I think I might even hate her as much as I hate Joey. Damn my hormones. This must all show on my face, because Lauren grins at me again and nods, her own jealousy clear to see.

  Mr. Trevelen starts handing out awards, and I try to focus again. I know I’m going to get one of the academic trophies, and I’m sure Harley will too. As students begin to take the stage and accept their framed accolades, I see Harley slip away. Blaise doesn’t move, and when my name is finally called, I catch a glimpse of his face as I walk past.

  He’s livid.

  His eyes are glowing green orbs and his jaw is clenched so tight, I’m worried his teeth will crack.

  I take my award and stand on the stage to have my photo taken. Harley’s name is called out, and when he doesn’t come up, Mr. Trevelen grumbles into the microphone. I look down at Blaise again and I feel the dread start to take hold in my stomach.

  I look around to see Harlow smirking at me. I’m not afraid of her summoning me to face Joey at all. I’m only really worried about what he’s doing to the twins. I’m clearly crazy, because Avery is trying her best to get me out of the school and Ash insults me every opportunity he has.

  Yet I’m still having trouble breathing.

  When I arrived at the abandoned warehouse to complete the last round of the Game, I had been faced with the remaining members of the Twelve. There were only eleven men present, plus myself and the two other contenders for the spot. The Coyote and the Fox both looked at me like I was a raw piece of meat. It didn’t rattle me; I’d spent weeks being put to the test, and I had gotten used to being the untried liability of the group. Only the Jackal looked at me like I was someone worth backing.

  I wasn’t afraid of Geordie. He was the bigger of the two other contenders, but he only really had his size to use to try and win. He wasn’t bright, or cunning, he didn’t know how to blend in, or take someone by surprise. He didn’t have the skills required to seduce someone into taking a drink without sniffing it first, or to get out of handcuffs or an exemplary sailor’s knot. He didn’t know how to survive in the underground criminal world.

  Xavier did. He only looked at me when he absolutely had to but when he did, I felt the piercing slice of his eyes on every inch of my soul. If I lost to him, he would take pleasure in what he did to me. Every cut his blade made would be savored, every ounce of blood would be intentional.

  I know exactly wha
t it means to look into the soul of a killer.

  When I arrive at Hannaford Prep’s chapel, the grin on Joey’s face chills me to my core.

  He’s not pretending to be a decent person anymore. There’s no fake civility. All I see is the evil that lives under his skin. An echo of Xavier rings out in my mind and the inventory of what it took to disable him. I can’t believe I’d thought he looked like Ash and Avery. The differences in the siblings are so clear to me now that I struggle to see their similarities. I am no longer blinded by the good looks.

  The girl I had put away to come to this school, the one that lived inside a box in my mind—her job wasn’t quite done yet.

  “Thank you for joining us, Mounty.” His tone is conversational and jovial. I want to hit him so badly; I clench my fists to stop myself from lunging at him. “I thought we should all get to know you a little better. I took the liberty of looking into your records so we could get a better idea of who Eclipse Anderson really is.”

  My records, fuck. I manage to keep my breathing even. They can’t know about Matteo or the Wolf. There’s no written evidence of my position within the Club, or as one of the Twelve. I’d never been caught or implicated in any of my jobs. There’s nothing he could have that would break me.

  I wasn’t wrong.

  He doesn’t break me.

  But fuck it if I don’t bend a little.

  Chapter Eleven

  I’m the only kid in my class who walks to and from school without a parent or older sibling. The area I live in isn’t safe, not by a long shot, but my mom doesn’t care if I make it home alive. She would probably rather I disappeared, so she didn’t have to feed me.

  The holes in my jeans aren’t artfully placed or fashionable. The shirt I’m wearing has bloodstains from the last time my mom’s boyfriend smacked me so hard my nose shattered. I still have the lump to remind me not to breathe too loudly around a guy so high on meth, he thinks his skin is crawling with insects and the walls are bleeding. My mom had told me it was my own fault as she threw a dirty rag at me to wipe up. I didn’t have any respect for her left to lose.