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Minutes tick by, and I’m still not any closer to figuring out who the third person is, or what they’re even talking about. As much as I would love to stay and eavesdrop, I’m running late as it is.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and text Ezra what I’ve seen.
We can talk about it later.
Just as I’m about to start moving again, one of the figures shifts and I catch a glimpse of their profile, illuminated by the lights in the house. He's the third person I didn’t recognize.
It’s Vico, the scumbag Keller twisted my hand to induct. The one who tried to curry favor with me at the Kingmaker Welcome party by claiming to have dirt on the Beneventis.
My confusion deepens.
Have the three of them formed some sort of alliance? What could they possibly want with each other? They come from three different families, without any shared interests.
Unless the shared interest is getting rid of me.
I can't say that Cesare and I have been friendly, but I also don't think I've done anything to offend him. We live in a cutthroat world. It’s possible Keller offered him something in exchange for his loyalty.
Despite the lump that forms in my throat at the thought of them working together, I push it out of my mind and focus on my goal for the night.
It can wait. The election is in a few weeks.
I need to fix this problem tonight.
I'm going to find out who leaked Alize’s secret.
I make it through the gate and onto the narrow walkway that connects Kingmaker House with the rest of the campus. Once I’m there, I break into a jog. My lungs hurt, but I push myself anyway.
The past few days, I've withered. I'm a shell of who I used to be. It might be my ego talking, but I feel the need to prove that I still have it. That I’m still as fierce as I was before Alize set me in a tailspin. That I haven’t completely lost myself.
My body has other plans though.
With a choke and a splutter, I end up doubled over. The fire in my chest turns into a white hot inferno. The cigarette falls from my lips.
Fuck.
Okay, so I’m a little out of shape.Who knew that a few days of missing my daily gym routine would have me like this.
Humbled, I walk the rest of the way.
My path takes me through the secluded part of the campus, and toward the Horticulture and Botany building. As I get closer, I see why that dragon, Dr. Martin, wanted to have this place remodeled.
It’s practically falling in on itself. The flowering vines and shrubs are trying to reclaim the building, seemingly pulling it back into the forest. But I'm not here to gawk at what my donation will be replacing. I'm here for something else.
Well,someoneelse.
As I get closer, I notice a group of students standing by the entrance to the building, huddled around a few tables laden with solo cups.
I don’t know many of their names, but I’ve seen them around. Criminal Justice students. It’s bloody ironic that literal criminals would have an interest in getting a degree in that discipline.
I stick to the shadows, surveying the group of students, looking for the person who I should find here. The Kingmaker Associate I harassed in the hallway earlier today told me that I would find her here—he’s a friend of that druggie I saw her with the night of the Kingmaker party.
Soon enough, she emerges from the building, a bottle of rum in hand.
Tara Garcia Vásquez.
My position in the thicket of overgrown trees means she won’t see me. So I watch her.
She's tall, taller than most girls, with blonde hair that falls down her back in slight waves. Her hair is not as light as the other Hemlock girls, something I've come to know is solely because of her rebellious streak.
