My grip falters before slipping away altogether. Softly, I tap his cheek and give him a snarky smile, almost turning away. Trying desperately to rein in my emotions and steady my pulse that continues to drum away. My hands curls into fists at my side, emotions flickering between rage, grief, and utter disbelief. All this fighting and getting absolutely nowhere. The battle becomes futile when Thiago's soft voice cuts through the static, pulling me out of my haze.
“Hit me…”
Through my lashes, I look at him, unsure that I heard him correctly. Then he repeats the words and adds more to them this time.
“Hit me. If that’s what you need. If that’s what’s gonna get you through the next five minutes, hit me. I’ve been told my face is quite punchable.”
My fist trembles, along with my shoulders, which move with each deep jitter that rips through my chest. Any other day, I think I would have taken him up on his offer, but I can’t. I just stand before him, motionless and speechless, looking at him, like he’s my damnation wrapped in everything I could possibly want.
This time, I turn away when the sound of a car pulling in catches my attention. There’s no more words exchanged between us, I only open the door and step to the side. Thankfully, one of us isn’t a useless piece of shit right now, because my mind checks out, just as Safra's lips begin to move, guiding the coroner to where he is. My vision tunnels, and I step outside. Pulling out a cigarette and choking on the smoke. Each drag calms my overworked nerves and trembling hands…. Ittakes about thirty minutes, then what’s left of my father is placed in the back of the van, the doors slamming shut, and it drives away with the only family I ever had.
1. Streets
2. “Got you…”
Chapter Eleven
Thiago
It’s been days since I took Zayden back to his place and found his dad dead. Like the true asshole that I am, I haven’t sought him out. Instead, I’ve been avoiding him, haunted by that night, by the question gnawing at the back of my mind, making it impossible to breathe, let alone think. I stare into space, the vintage decor blurring out of focus the deeper I sink into my head. The chandelier above us glints like a noose strung in diamonds, beautiful and opulent. It catches the morning light like a warning, casting fractured halos across the table as if mocking the idea of grace.
“The merger would happen soon, between the companies? Why don’t you invite your friend for dinner?” My father’s voice pulls my attention toward him as he cuts into his medium-rare steak, blood mingling with the rich brown juices. “Did you hear me?”
I nod, even though I didn’t quite understand what he meant. Or what friend he’s actually talking about. The words slide past me like oil on glass—merger, dinner, and company talk. None ofit matters. My father continues to chew; the burn of his stare has my skin feeling like it’s crawling with insects. “You should hang around Peter and Ezra, it will do you well.”
My stomach turns at the mention of their names.
I barely had an appetite, and now it’s entirely gone. Using the fork, I push the food around my plate, watching the blood swirl around on the white porcelain. The memory of the picture floods my mind, and once again I’m… I’m left with only one question, and the only person who could answer it, I’m not sure I can trust them to be honest.
“Filho!” My father slams his hand on the table, snapping me out of my thoughts.
My back straightens as I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, it was a long night.”
I wasn’t lying; it was a long night. I’ve been busy babysitting Nico and making sure he’s staying away from Shiloh. My night consists of glares and trying to piece together who’s behind all of this. After all, an enemy of my enemy is a friend to me. Lucia sits across from me, silent as always, sporting a new bruise that she tries to hide behind foundation and a practiced smile. Her eyes flicker towards mine, and I make the connection then… That’s what drew me in, the familiarity. She looks away before I have a chance to really pinpoint the resemblance. Every time I look at her now, it’s like staring at a puzzle already solved.
My phone buzzes, and I use it as the perfect excuse to rise from the table and from the farce illusion of a family breakfast. I’m not even sure why I’m here.Why did I drive back home instead of the dorms?Maybe deep down I wanted answers. Maybe I wanted to be in the comfort of my own hell. Instead, I got nothing but a few strands of hair to test my theory. I push back the chair, excusing myself despite my father’s disapproval. My finger slides across the screen, answering the call, before pressing the phone against my ear. There’s a moment ofsilence, then there’s heavy breathing. I consider hanging up, but something keeps me rooted in place, in a silent battle of wills. Who will speak first? Just as my mouth opens, static fills my ears, before a distorted voice cuts in.“I know what you did.”
My eyes widen at the accusation. I’ve done a lot of the things, but I’m certain this is something else entirely. My heart skips a beat as I gather my thoughts to speak. There’s more heavy breathing on the other end of the line before the call ends. While I remain standing here, my blood running cold, the words echo in my skull.Over and over. Until my pulse spikes and my throat tightens. I glance back at the dining room, where Lucia sips her coffee like nothing’s wrong. Where my father continues to carve into his steak. I swallow hard.
Someone knows…
And I can’t allow that.
I grab my bag and head out the door. The drive back to the campus is longer than it should be. I guess that’s what happens when you take a scenic route to clear your mind. At least that was the idea—hoping the cold air and winding roads would lift the fog. It didn’t. If anything, it only opened the doors for more questions. I need control. Leverage. Anything.
But first, I need to do some testing.
By the time I pull into the lot, the campus is already buzzing with students. The cold weather did nothing to deter them from gathering like insects, swarming every corner of the campus with their laughter and curated chaos—a stark reminder of how lonely this life can be despite the luxury. This world is pretty solitary when there’s no one you can really trust. Money can buy most everything, except love and loyalty. Two lessons I’ve come to understand the hard way. I thread my fingers through my waves, trying to ground myself, but it’s no use. I’m grasping at straws, and I hate how that feels.
Once I park my car, I head straight towards the west wing, where I’m sure I’ll find just the person to test my theory, and then go find her. Fabiola. Just the crowned one I’m looking for. I’m sure she will be huddled up in one of the art rooms, like most of the crowned ones in Villalargos. They attend this school for status. For optics. For legacy. The only curriculum a crowned one needs is how to take dick and how to make the babies that inherit a good last name.
Nothing else matters.
University is just a lobby—consider it the most expensive waiting room. I weave through the sea of students walking towards class, ignoring the fact that I have one to attend to myself, and find her exactly where I expected.
Perched on a stool, sketching something that looks like a bleeding crown.How cliche.Fabiola's eyes flick up when she sees me, but she doesn’t stop drawing. “Have you thought about my proposal?” I ask as I pull out a chair, flipping it so the back is to my front before I straddle it.
She doesn’t look up. “You already have a crowned one, Safra. Or did Allison disappear?”