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“What does your sponsor think of Ransom’s absence?” Eric asked. “It’s been weeks and not a peep? Surely he's getting antsy. Ours oversees quite a lot.”
“Connolly is aware of Ransom’s absence,” I replied. That was the Arkologist who’d sponsored our education here as the academy required.
“Lucky,” Eric snorted. “Ours is a hawk.”
I shrugged. “He’s more relaxed in his retirement.”
“Ah. I can imagine. Still, can’t expect the boost from him once you enter the field though, eh?” Flynn said.
No.
Not least because Connolly Peterson was dead.
Umbra’s kill, that time.
He’d told us nothing before he died. By the time we got to him in a small cabin in the mountains, his memory was fried and half his brain with it. He hadn’t been publicly tied to anything shady, but that didn’t change what he knew. It hadn’t changed what he’d allowed to happen.
Honestly, I was surprised he’d been left alive at all. Those hired for the cover up were ruthless. The only reason we were safe was because they believed we were dead.
Still, we’d used the fact they’d spared him, forcing him to write the letters we needed. Letters for our sponsorship, and one for every quarter to his colleagues. He was quiet and private, and that had made this all too easy. No one would notice his absence for another year at the least.
“Your sponsor is Eugene Howard?” Shatter’s voice dragged me from my musings.
“That’s right.” Flynn glanced to her in surprise. If I’d learned one thing about Shatter, it was that no matter how much she fiddled with umbrellas, or doodled in her notebook in class, she retainedeverythingaround her. “One of the top leaders in Arkology Sciences right now,” Flynn added, seeming pleased to be on this topic.
“He’s a hard man to impress, I’ve heard,” I said, willing to push any part of the conversation that drew Shatter’s curiosity. I knew of Eugene Howard’s sponsorship, like I knew everything of the pack before me. He was an Arkologist and not directly tied to those we’d been hunting.
“Oh, yes he is.” Flynn straightened. “But don’t feel bad if you couldn’t reach him. He’s almost a myth, he’s so private. By pure chance I knew he was involved in some very important work for the Institute—highly classified, of course—but that was our in. Took every favour my family has, but we managed to arrange a visit at his Estate. In fact, that’s where we were this weekend.”
“Was a nice place, too, wasn’t it?” Eric was asking. “Out in the middle of nowhere, but you don’t see many buildings with that much history anymore. Ifyou ever get the chance to visit, take it,” he said with a hint of superiority that suggested he hoped I would never get the chance.
I was much more curious at the way Shatter had tensed, her eyes wider than usual as she watched them. She almost looked like she wanted to say something, but her hands balled in her lap and she shrank back down.
What, I wondered, piqued her curiosity about the Lincoln pack’s sponsor?
It wasn’t long after when Shatter excused herself to the bathroom, and in her absence I got my first sign of victory.
“What do you get up to outside of the Academy,” Flynn asked, sipping his scotch. I couldn’t help but notice Gareth’s piercing blue gaze following Shatter as she stopped a waitress for directions. “If you feel the same way about how the media’s going, we must share tastes—and you can be honest, we enjoy a few things outside of the… normal.”
I glanced at him.
This was it.
A subtle prod to see if I would spill any incriminating hobbies. He would share if I did, I was certain. It’s how the rich felt comfortable in alliances, I’d learned. Socialise, enjoy themselves, and be confident in mutually assured destruction should anything go south.
But I already knew the foul things that the Lincoln pack got up to on their own time.
“68 fights back. Won’t roll while he’s choked to death.” Flynn barked a laugh, words slurred. “What kind of shit was that, anyway? Fucking pathetic.”
I was losing my battle with the fury as Gareth actually shifted back in his seat to watch Shatter right before she turned a corner to the bathroom.
“On the topic of less than appropriate tastes we may share,” I said. “What of Gareth’s taste in omegas?”
It slipped out before I could stop it.
Silence rang out between us, Flynn and Eric both glancing at Gareth, who stared at me now, running his tongue along his teeth.
Fix it.
