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I slipthrough the back door of Kingmaker House.
Darkness has descended, wrapping the campus in frosty shadows that reach their fingers into my coat. The nights are steadily getting colder. If it weren’t for the warmth from my cig, I would probably have to wear another layer.
I tuck my hands into the pocket of my puffer jacket, making a beeline through the maze of hedges toward the tiny gate the service staff use. The narrow walkway is lined with hedges, flowering plants and dwarfed trees.
Back here, there isn’t much light. I use the wan moonlight peaking through the patchwork cloud cover and the fading lights from the House to guide my steps. Save for the crunching of my boots against the stone walkway and the gentle chirp of crickets and beetles, the night is still.
The smoke leeches from my lips, disappearing into the chilly air.
Even though I’ve slept like the dead for the past day—according to Vance I was out for all of twenty-six hours—it’s done nothing to fix the hole in my chest. My body aches with each step I take.
My head is on a swivel as I get closer to the small, rickety fence. Not many people know about this part of the House grounds. There’s no reason for anyone else to be here.
Still, I'm wary.
I don't need anyone seeing me sneaking out of the House like this. Especially now they're all watching me, waiting for me to screw up. I’ll have to be the perfect model Kingmaker for the next few weeks.
I shouldn’t even be doing this, but I can’t stop myself.
Of course, I want to fix the problems that might stop me from winning the upcoming elections, but all I can think about is Alize. I need to fix things with her before it drives me crazy.
She hates me.
I don't want her to hate me.
If she hates me, I hate myself.
I take another long drag, hastening my steps as the gate comes into view. I’m happy to leave the din emanating from the house behind, though. I haven’t had a lick of peace and quiet anywhere but my room since I’ve woken up.
Even though it’s the wee hours of the morning, the house is still alive with activity. The brothers and Associates are always up to something—drinking, smoking, fucking or some strange mix of the three. It never bothered me much until now.
Something shifts in the corner of my eye.
I’m not alone.
Quickly,I crouch behind a nearby tree, using it to conceal my position. Who the fuck is out and about at this time? There’s a chance it could be one of the gardeners, but when I scan the shadows I realize it’s not just one person—it’s three.
They’re talking to each other.
To my ears, they sound like murmurs. Three guys. Kingmakers, of course. If it weren’t for my dark clothing, they would have probably spotted me. The bunch are just a few feet away, standing under a thicket of trees.
They’re talking in hushed tones. I can’t make out what they’re saying.
I listen for longer than I should, until one of the drawls starts to sound familiar. It’s a dialect I know well, because it came out of my mum whenever she was upset. One of the speakers has a slight Geordie accent. There’s only one person here who has it.
Keller.
What is he doing here?
And who the fuck is he talking to in the middle of the night?
I keep listening, trying to find something, anything I can hold on to. That’s when I realize one of the other voices is familiar, too.
Cesare.
I’m suspicious, but I know better than to interrupt them.
I know Keller's a snake, but Cesare, I knownothingabout him. If he’s here with Keller though, it can’t be anything good. My mind starts reeling. Should I have kept more of an eye on him over the years?
