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Alistair looks ready to tear someone apart with his bare hands, and I know he’s not going to just stick to the shadows. He’s too much of a predator for that.
“We need a roster,” I say, taking charge before thisbecomes an all-out brawl about who does what first. “Two on Ever, two on Stanley and his crew. Alistair and Damien are on campus this morning anyway, so you two can deal with the three pricks.”
Damien nods, his jaw clenched hard enough to shatter stone. “We’ll handle it,” he says in that cold, calm way of his that makes you know he means business. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver, just fixes Alistair with a steady look.
Alistair’s eyes, dark and dangerous, flick over to Damien. They understand each other, these two. Predators recognising another’s territory.
I watch the silent communication between them, like they’re speaking in some sort of code only they understand. It’s chilling and effective. Benedict is still leaning against the doorframe, but I see the way his eyes have narrowed, like he’s calculating every possible outcome in his head. He’s always three moves ahead.
“Ben and I will take the afternoon shift,” I say, slipping naturally into the role of organiser in the middle of the shitshow.
Benedict pushes himself off the doorframe and steps into the centre of the room as if to seal our dark pact with his presence alone. “We’ve got a window before this shit escalates,” he says so cold, I shiver. “Let’s use it to our advantage.”
Tension coils tighter in my gut, but it’s mixed with purpose now. It feels good to be moving forward with the plan. I hate sitting idle. Always needing to move, to do something, anything to stop the gnawing desireto hurt people every chance I get. It’s a toll that takes a mental hit, but I shove it aside.
“We need to be smart. Clean. No fuck-ups,” I add, even though it’s not necessary. No one dares fuck up on the sect’s watch. We might as well take our own lives and be done with it.
Alistair nods once, sharp and decisive.
Damien’s eyes meet mine, and there’s an understanding there.
It’s settled, then. A plan—rough, frantic, but it’s something. A shield thrown up around Ever whether she wants it or not because that’s what you do when someone you have everything riding on is thrown into the lion’s den—you become the damn beast that protects her.
6
EVER
I’m a heartbeat away from being late, and my breath comes in short bursts as I dodge bodies in the frenzied hallway of KnightsGate University. This fucking paper burns a hole in my laptop. My trainers squeak against the polished floor, begging for traction as I weave through clusters of students who move like glaciers.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, side-stepping a backpack someone’s dropped in the middle of the chaos.
Finally, I burst into the classroom just as the clock ticks its final warning. I slap my assignment submission slip on the professor’s desk, my chest heaving, relief flooding through me. That’s one deadline that is not going to kick my butt today.
Glad that I decided to take a break and have a shower last night instead of this morning, I would be sitting here unwashed if not for that. I overslept, which almost never happens.
The spot test is a blur of words I speed through,acing it with time to spare. When the class ends, I barely register the sighs of relief around me before I shove my notebook into my bag and bolt up. There is no rest for the wicked—or those who fear being on time is being late.
I’m out the door, and the world shifts from the stale air of academia to the crispness of autumn outside. The quad is a battlefield of social hierarchies, which even the elite have within the elite, and frisbee games, but right now, it’s just an obstacle course between me and my next class, which is, of course, on the other side of the campus. My feet pound the grassy paths as I join the stream of students, all of us reduced to salmon swimming upstream to whatever waits for us in Lecture Hall A, B or C.
“Hey, Ever!”
A male voice shouts, but I don’t turn. I can’t afford another distraction. There’s only forward, only the push to keep moving, to stay afloat in this sea of ambition and expectation that is KnightsGate University.
I cut across the quad, my thoughts a jumbled mess of due dates and essays. Three guys catch up to me, surrounding me, making my heart leap.
Sighing inwardly, I keep moving, forcing them to move with me. These three second-years are complete tools. Entitled rich kids with low-ranking titles, which gives them a chip on their shoulders the size of the Eiffel Tower, amongst the Dukes and Earls that adorn these hallowed halls. Okay, well,oneDuke. I don’t think there’s more than one here.
“Ever!” Eric’s voice booms over the crowd. His idiot friends, Robbie and that complete tosser, Stanley, move in closer. Wealth and trouble rolled into one trio, with reputations that cling tighter than shadows at midnight.
“Look what we have here,” Stanley smirks, circling me like a shark. My heart kicks up a notch, but I stand my ground. His eyes dance with dark amusement, and I’m suddenly the main act in their twisted show.
“Party at ours tonight,” Eric says. “You’re coming, right?” The question doesn’t sound like a question at all. It’s an expectation, a demand wrapped in faux-politeness.
I glance around to see students slowing down to catch a bit of the drama, their whispers like static in the air, that they know something I don’t. The second-years’ gazes lock on me, predatory and gleeful. I’m a deer in headlights, but I won’t let them see me flinch.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I say, my words slicing through the charged atmosphere like a blade. I grip the strap of my backpack a little tighter, an anchor in this chaos. “I’ve got too much on my plate.”
Mentally shaking my head that I had to go and explain when I don’t owe them shit, I press forward.
