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What was Mom thinking bringing me here?
I guess she figured it would be better than prison. At least here I still have her, though things have been tense between us recently.
I take a seat near the back at the top of the lecture hall. I hate lectures more than classes, as sometimes the guys are in them, too, and it makes me even more stressed.
Camile sits next to me and shoots me a small smile. I hope we’re going to be okay. I’m torn between not wanting to tell her anything else, in case it ends our friendship, and the basic human need to share.
Let’s face it; there’s no one else here I can talk to.
The whole place is toxic. Mom’s relationship with Nataniele is freaky, and I get such bad vibes from him, and then there’s the Devils. Ugh. Never mind Verity, the queen bitch herself.
Speak of the queen bitch and she shall appear. Verity slinks past us, her trusty Louis Vuitton backpack giving her away. Otherwise, I might not have recognized her because she’s wearing a ballcap pulled down low over her face. She must have pulled her hair up into a pony tucked inside the cap because I can’t see any of it.
Usually, Verity wears her mane of hair like a crown. It’s gorgeous, so I don’t blame her.
“She must be having a bad hair day,” Camile whispers to me, and I giggle. While I try not to mock other women for their looks, I’ll make an exception for Verity, who has been so horrible to me.
The doors bang, and I sink in my seat as heavy male footsteps descend the stairs. I don’t know who it is, but I don’t want to see any guys right now. I’m done with them; I really am. I glance to the side and see the Vipers—the twins and a blond guy I haven’t met yet—strutting down the steps to take places at the very front.
I frown. “That seems enthusiastic for them.”
Camile laughs. “The teacher of today’s class is young, brunette, and very hot. The Vipers always sit at the front. She only comes in for this subject, and honestly, I think half of it is those fuckers like trying to make her uncomfortable.”
“Does it work?” I ask.
“No. She’s an ex-DEA agent.”
“Teaching a class in a mafia college?” I hiss.
“Querido dios, Mackenzie. Please keep your voice down.” Camile glances around, her eyes wide.
“I did. I whispered.”
“You whisper-hissed, and you can’t talk like that in the open.” She’s speaking so quietly I’m having to lean right into her to hear. “The lecturer talks about how people leave clues at crime scenes. It’s an important class.”
“I’m surprised we little ladies are allowed to take it.” I shake my head.
“It covers things to do with how to clean certain substances, erm, from clothing and carpets and skin.”
I cannot believe this. “No fucking way.” I snort.
“Yes way, and Zee, you keep this up and I’m going to sit down there with the Vipers. Stop. Talking. About. It.”
“There’s an actual class in it. I don’t think me talking about it matters.”
“Nothing weird about that. Lots of colleges have criminology classes and classes on law, and the rest.”
The doors bang again, ending our conversation.
More heavy male footsteps. I glance to my side and my stomach does a somersault. It’s the Devils, and God, do they look handsome as they stride down the stairs. My promise to myself and God falters a little as I watch them.
They get to where Verity is sitting, and Kirill pauses, then swipes the hat off her head, tucking it under his arm.
She lets out a cry and clutches her hands to her head, curling into herself as though she’s trying to vanish. Kirill leans down to say something to her.
I can’t stop staring at her head.
What, the actual fuck?
