“Son…” Deeks tried to interrupt, but Rubin was a boy who wanted to become a man, his path set in a way he’d never expected it to be set and his course clear. I’d seen that look before. I’d seen it a thousand times in the mirror. Staring at it on someone other than myself was chilling, but also made the adrenaline rise to the surface.
“I want to earn your trust. I can get close to him. To the law. I can be your mole instead of the rat the others expect me to be. Let me in, Drew. Let me help.”
The two of us stared at each other for a long time. A huge part of me wanted to say no. Rubin had something about him, something pure and rare, and I knew this life would only take that away, turn his white to gray before he eventually became an angry man with black on his chest, Prospect over his heart, and The Hounds in his blood.
He was at a crossroads.
A responsible man would have urged him down the path that ensured his life be nothing but good.
But I wasn’t that man. I had a club to protect, and something about the kid made me believe he could be the secret weapon we didn’t even know we needed.
I searched his eyes for a sign of doubt. It wasn’t there no matter how hard I looked or how deep I dug. In the end, there was only one thing left for me to say.
“You’re in.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
AYDA
Ihadn’t been to the principal’s office… ever. Not in my years pounding these halls, and not since Tate had started here, but that was all changing. The call I’d taken less than an hour ago had destroyed our perfect record, and one look at Tate’s face and he knew he was waist deep in a shit storm he wasn’t going to puppy dog eyes his way out of. He could see it in the tension that made every muscle in my body rigid, and the slow jumping tap of my leg on the shitty high traffic carpet that lined the offices.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“I wasn’t.”
“Clearly.”
I had just been lectured by a man who was old enough to be my father about my erratic and negligent parenting techniques, and the exaggerated need for the correct sexual education of a boy Tate’s age, because the boy—Tate—had been caught fucking his older girlfriend in a shower stall in the gym.
I’d never been so mortified in my life.
“She came to apologize. We’ve been fighting, and—”
“Do not finish that fucking sentence, Tate. If you everwant to see the light of day again, you will keep your goddamn mouth shut and take your licks. I told you both last week: no more visits here at school. I told you to stay away from one another while you’re here, and now here we are. You’re on academic probation, suspended from the team, and making me look like an irresponsible guardian.” I took a breath and shook my head, opening my mouth to keep going and slamming it shut again when the door to the office opened, and the coach stepped out. He’d been in there trying to reinstate Tate with the team because the suspension would have to take place next football season, and that would include the homecoming game.
I rose to my feet, trying my best not to slap the shit out of Tate as I forced him to stay seated.
“I tried, but the old man said he had to make an example of him. I’m sorry, Ayda.” He was addressing me because he, too, was at the end of his patience rope with Tate. He was pushing everyone to their limits these days, and this was a wake-up call for me.
I nodded as humbly as I could and smiled sadly. “Thanks for trying, coach.”
Throwing a look of disbelief at my little brother, the coach gave me one last parting smile before leaving the office.
“Get up,” I snapped.
“Ayda, I’m not a child—”
I stopped him in his tracks with one look and dug for the keys to the car I’d borrowed in my pocket, pushing past him as I followed the coach from the office and made my way from the empty school. I’d forced Tate to leave his bike at The Hut when they’d called us in. He was either getting in the goddamn car or walking home.
Tate followed me out, as I’d expected him to, his muscular body lurching as his long strides had him catching up with me effortlessly. He didn’t speak to me, just held his silence, his shoulders curled in, and his hands balled at his sides. He was brooding, not because he was sorry, but because he’d been caught. People who were sorry wouldn’t go out and do it all over again, and I knew from experience that that’sexactlywhat would happen.
We both climbed into the car. The moment the doors closed, my anger died and my disappointment set in. I placed my hands on the steering wheel after I’d started the engine and the crisp air blew over us. I had to take another tactic with Tate before I lost him completely.
“I’m sorry, Tate.”
My kid brother looked over at me, his head snapping to the side hard enough that it made me wince. I didn’t look at him, just stared straight out of the windshield at the school that held so many old and new memories for me. I wasn’t sure I could look at him right now and not burst into tears from the sheer frustration.
“For what?” he asked, and I could see the frown on his young face from the corners of my eyes.