RIVER
The Delgados owe a lot to us.
I squeeze my eyes shut, but all that does is evoke the image of Franklin being lifted onto a gurney and taken into the ER, where he’ll never emerge again.
Not alive.
Ezio’s carelessly cruel words, so bereft of empathy, had opened up those wounds, and the bastard is lucky that I hadn’t been willing to throw a punch at him.
Yet.
If he keeps insisting we should tap them for donations, that might change.
Mr. and Mrs. Delgado deserve to be left in peace, far away from Dyschord.
I don’t think Pandora will release whatever secrets she might know about Franklin or his father, but then, this is Pandora I’m talking about.
Pandora.
Pandora, who has copies of who-knows-what of the frat’s business. Ofmybusiness. Has she gone through it? Has she seen what happened the night of my hazing?
My hands clench into fists, and the urge to punch something, to punchsomeone, gets nearly overwhelming.
Maybe I am my father’s son after all.
My eyes dart to my phone, where I have several missed calls and ignored texts from him. I’m not answering them, not now, not until I have to.
The shame of what had happened is still threatening to choke me.
I need to get away from it. I need to escape.
River
Up for sparring?
I need to beat the shit out of something.
Fenrir
I’m in Harmony. But if you want a fight, definitely join me.
His next text is an address, and a picture of a boxing glove. I have no idea what to make of it, but I’m too restless to pass up this opportunity. I get in my car and start driving. Good thing I keep my boxing kit in the back seat.
It ends up being a sketchier part of town, away from the fancy galleries and high end stores. I didn’t even know Harmony had a shittier part of town. It’s not like the students are lacking for money, but I guess somebody’s got to run all the stores and work as an underpaid instructor or lab tech.
For two blocks, I can even imagine that I’m in one of the New Bristol neighborhoods my father operated in. Or maybe where Giulio Pavone has his sleazier strip clubs.
The GPS informs me that I’ve arrived. I don’t see the location, but I park anyway. I huff in amusement at how easy it is to find street parking.
Yeah, this is nothing like even the shit part of NB.
I grab my boxing kit and head out until I spot a staircase down to a basement door. There’s a guy standing guard outside.
I go up to him. “No sunglasses?”
The guy gives me a confused look. “Sunglasses? It’s fucking dark out.”
“I thought all bouncers were required to wear sunglasses,” I say.
