Page 31 of Speak No Claim

Does Tío want me to know? Is he expecting this? Is this why he hasn’t been home? To avoid me?

The unanswered questions badgered my head with no end in sight, and it didn’t help that I’d quickly become the talk of the town. The moment Onyx clipped my shoulder, the entire hallway stopped breathing. Not from him knocking into me, but from him choosing me.

It was like this initiation to who the hell knows what.

If I was making any sense, I wasn’t sure, but the realization somehow took its toll on me regardless.

I adjusted the strap of my backpack higher on my shoulder as I followed the stream of students toward my afternoon literature class. The halls of the Graves Academy were ridiculously gorgeous, even with the gargoyles, skulls, and snakes decor splattered on every corner.

There was definitely a darker theme set behind these concrete walls. I’d never seen a university quite like this before. It was captivating, to say the least. The researcher in me was itching to find out as much as I could about these buildings.

No way was I going to listen to a bunch of rules that had nothing to do with me. Especially since no one had a legitimate reason I had to. I was never one to be told what to do, but this was on another level. There was no explanation, just orders, and I didn’t appreciate that.

As far as the rest of the students, they had no problem playing their parts. All day I witnessed how much this specific group of guys got away with absolutely everything. It truly was mind-blowing to see how everyone yielded to their beck and call without a word being said. Not one had to be exchanged.

The teachers and staff were on the same boat. No one reprimanded them for walking in late to class or for disrupting the lecture with nonsense they thought was entertaining. In the lecture halls, they even had rows reserved for them. No one dared sit in them. Not one soul.

They were already reserved.

They cut in line and took over any table, even when people were sitting at it. They’d just get up and move without being told to. Not one excuse me or an apology, nothing. Doors were also held for them, with coffee and food already waiting on their desks.

They didn’t demand respect. They simply expected it. I even watched a professor completely stop his lecture because one of them had to answer a phone call outside.

One thing was for certain: the Graves Academy didn’t belong to its students. It only belonged to them.

Curiosity always got the best of me, so I watched one of the guys named Caspian. He was in my finance class. He was maybe a couple of feet beside me, and my eyes drifted to the crest stitched over his heart.

At first, it looked like the one on mine. It wasn’t. His was replaced with one bearing the initials B.O.B.

The crest was a black shield that framed an elaborate gold thread against his blazer jacket. At its center, a human skull beneath the initials, with a dagger piercing it vertically. There were three serpents around the shield, their bodies forming a protective shield for the emblem. Below the crest was the school's name, but in the corners were other initials.

On the left, it read SNC; on the right, HNP; and, right under the end of the dagger blade, the letters SNT were displayed. On the sides of the crest were the words "Est. 1662" etched.

I subconsciously jerked back, surprised by what I’d seen.

“Find what you’re looking for,” Caspian instantly called me out without taking his eyes off the professor.

My stomach dropped.

For only me to hear, he softly sang, “Curiosity gets people killed around here.”

I sucked in a loud breath.

“Miss Belladonna,” the teacher announced, embarrassing me. “Care to share with the class?”

Heat rushed to my face.

Before I could stammer an apology, Caspian spoke, “I was talking to her.”

The professor’s expression faltered for a second. “My apologies, Mr. Hawthorne.”

After he returned to his lecture, Caspian finally locked stares with me.

Damn… he’s good-looking. Really, really good-looking.

Up close, his defined features were almost too perfect with all the sharp angles of his face. The symmetry was insane, only making him appear more devious and off-putting.

He grinned, leaning forward to my face. Once he was inches away, he whispered in my ear, “Keep digging, rainforest princess.” He got closer, close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. “As you know, every trail leaves a footprint, and around here, hunters are always watching, just looking for their next prey. Especially when their last name is…” he sang again, “Belladonna.”