We head back to the campus grounds. Me and Dylan on my bike, Ali together with Lana on her bike, while Penelope drives with her father. I don’t think he trusted me enough to take her back safely. But I know he’ll take care of her, so I didn’t fight him on it.
I’ve had enough pain in a single day.
For now, I just want to fucking rest and see what the damage is at the Skull & Serpent Society house. It’s going to be a massive cleanup that I know we’ll need all our men for.
Money won’t be an issue, considering who owns this whole campus. The board is still alive, despite one member jumping to his death. The others will probably want to put a lid on this as fast as possible to resume business as usual, and I’ll definitely use that to my advantage.
I’m just wondering how many of the board members my father brought to the table … and if I can convince them of our innocence before they decide to throw us out for good.
When we enter campus, the fire seems to have died down already. Plenty of firemen are still on the grounds assessing the damage, but the immediate threat seems to have dissipated, and the building is still intact, though heavily burned.
We all come to a halt near the big building that Penelope set ablaze, and I turn off the engine and wait until Dylan’s jumped off before I do too. Lana and Ali also stop in front of the building, which is still being surveilled by lots of officers, including Ali’s dad. They’re probably still looking for the culprit, and we all look at each other as Ricci’s car comes to a stop. Penelope steps out and makes an awkward face.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ali and Dylan say in tandem.
Lana throws her helmet at me. “Stop ogling.”
“Ogling?!” I repeat.
“And keep that tongue inside,” she says before she waltzes past the police officers, waving around her student card that carries her name.
A name that carries power.
Penelope’s father and his men follow her as we all head inside, but the moment he tries to enter, the guards stop him.
“Not you.”
His men reach for their pockets.
Oh fuck no.
“What are you doing?” Penelope asks.
“We can’t have an all-out shooting right here in the open where all the other students can see,” Dylan says.
“If I can’t go in, my daughter doesn’t either,” her father growls.
She steps outside again and places her hand on his chest. “Dad. I’ll be okay. Please.”
“I’m worried about you,” he says, looking up at the policemen. “And these men are obviously not here to protect you.”
“They’re my father’s men, actually,” Ali says.
“These boys will protect me,” she says, cupping his face before glancing at me over her shoulder.
When her father gives me a stern look, I nod. “I’ll protect her with my life. You’ve got my word.”
“The word of criminals means very little to me …” he says through gritted teeth. Still, he flicks his fingers, and his men stand down again. “But I’ll allow it. For her.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she says, and she presses a soft kiss on his cheek before following us into the building she tried to burn down.
The entire ground floor is covered in soot. Bits and pieces of wallpaper and paint are coiled and hang loose. Paintings destroyed. Carpets gone. Even a part of the staircase has been singed.
“Wow … you did good,” Dylan boasts.
Ali immediately throws his elbow into his waist, making him groan.
“Good on the test,” Dylan adds with a cough.
“Thanks,” Penelope replies with a smile.
“Came down and delivered vengeance,” I muse.
“To her grades,” Dylan says.
“What else?” I reply, raising a cheeky brow.
A shaken-up student walks by while staring at us, and we stay silent until she’s gone again.
Better not say out loud we’re responsible for all of this mess.
Alistair and I support Dylan, but he quickly pushes himself off us. “I can walk by myself, thanks.”
“You sure?” Ali asks.
“I’m fine,” he responds, still bleeding through the bandage that was applied in a hurry. “Don’t need to worry about me.”
My eyes narrow. “Yeah, you’re going to the nurse’s office.”
“It can wait,” he says.
I push my shoulder underneath his and force him to walk in that direction. “I’m not gonna lose another fucking friend.”
“You almost sound like you care about me,” Dylan muses.
But he knows as well as I do we’d fucking die for each other.
“Okay, enough talking,” I say, and I haul him through the hallways to the clinic.
The moment we step inside, the nurse almost loses all the color in her face. “Jesus—what happened to you?”
She quickly preps the beds and we set Dylan down on one of them before sitting down on the others.
“Got into a brawl,” I reply. “Can you take care of him first?”
Dylan groans in pain as she grabs his arm and unwraps his bandage, then pours some alcohol on the wound. His face contorts from the pain.
“Oh dear … that’ll definitely need surgery.”
“Surgery?!” Dylan gasps. “Fuck.”
“What? Scared of knives?” Penelope jests.
“Anesthesia!” he retorts.
Ali snorts. “He has this thing where he confesses all of his past mistakes and starts talking about true love right after he wakes up.”
Dylan covers his face. “I really shouldn’t have brought you to that dental appointment.”
“Oh, I enjoyed it thoroughly,” Ali muses.
“Spare me the corny stuff,” I say. “How does it look, nurse?”
The nurse smiles. “I was joking about the surgery part.” She winks. “I can take out the bullet and stitch it up. No problem.”
Dylan narrows his eyes at her and throws her an annoyed look, making us all laugh.
“What about the other bullet wound?” Penelope asks.
“Another one?!” the lady almost screeches.
I shush the lady. “The entire campus doesn’t need to know.”
The nurse rolls her eyes and says, “Where? Show me.”
Dylan lifts his shirt. The wound is still oozing blood and is covered in dirt.
“Yikes,” the nurse says, and she immediately grabs her kit and sits down in front of him. “Lie down.”
He does what she asks and she immediately pushes his shirt farther up, then inspects the wound. “This is gonna hurt.”
When she pours on the alcohol, he hisses. “F-Fuck.”
“Told you,” the nurse says.
“Jesus,” Penelope mutters.
“Told you, she’s used to some shit,” Dylan replies.
“No talking,” the nurse barks, and she shoves some needles up his waist and shoulder, then goes to work on him, digging like she’s trying to find some trinkets.
The bullets finally appears and she drops them into a bowl. “There. Now to stitch it up.”
She grabs her suturing kit again and finishes the job, cleaning him up.
“Thanks,” Dylan mutters, and he sits up again.
“You’re welcome. I guess you’re not going to tell me who did this to you?” she asks.
“Sorry, confidential,” Dylan replies.
She rolls her eyes again. “Always the same bullshit with you kids.”
Lana snorts but hide her laughter behind her hand.
The nurse starts cleaning up Ali’s wounds, which are only mild scratches and cuts, easily cleaned with alcohol. The bullet that entered my shoulder is easily taken out and the wound is sutured up. One grazed past my cheek, which only needed some glue after the cleaning, but other than that I’m fine.
I take off my jacket which is covered in blood and drenched in rain and throw it into the bin. I’ll buy a new one easily.
Ali does the same with his hoodie, chucking it all away until we’re both left in simple white shirts.
“What about you?” the nurse asks Lana. “Are you okay? Got any wounds?”
She throws her hair back. “Not a single scratch. No one touches me without my permission.” Lana eyes me and the tape on my cheek.
Dylan bursts out into laughter when he sees my face. “God, this alone is worth it.”
“Shut up,” I growl back.
“Okay, then I’m all done,” the nurse says.
“Thanks for taking care of them,” Penelope says. “Are they in the clear now, or will they need more help?”
“Re-bandage him every day,” she says, pointing at Dylan. “Keep a close eye on the wound. If it gets infected, go to the hospital.”
“Okay,” Penelope replies as she and Ali help Dylan up.
“Feels much better already,” Dylan says as he pushes himself away from them. “I can walk.”
“You sure? We’ll probably need to go up all the fucking stairs,” I say.
He shrugs, but immediately cringes from the pain. “Pain is for pussies.”
Ali snorts and shakes his head. “Typical.”
A police officer near the door clears his throat. “Are you all done?”
It’s Ali’s dad.
We nod and follow him outside.
“Your father’s up here,” he tell us as he leads the way up the stairs, past the bit that got burned. But we keep going up more stairs until we finally reach the highest floor. The one where the dean’s office was.
“He’s in the dean’s old office?” Ali asks, frowning.
“Typical,” Lana says. “Take over. Assert dominance.”
Dylan coughs wildly.
“In here,” Mr. King says, pointing at the third room on the third floor.
“Right,” I say, sighing when everyone else looks at me. “I’ll go first.”
I open the door, while the policeman stations himself outside, guarding the place as we head inside.
My father’s standing behind the desk, looking out at the window down below as though he’s admiring his newfound rich view of the world.
“Took you long enough,” he says, and he gazes at us over his shoulder, the stern look on his face making me sweat.
Our drenched, bloodstained faces don’t seem to impress him in the slightest.
Typical.
“Sit,” he barks. “All of you.”
The door closes on us, and we sit down on the chairs in the back.
“You made quite a show here …” he mutters.
“Sir, I can explain,” Dylan says.
“Damn right you will,” my father says, turning around. “Because the second I left this school in Caruso’s hands, it burned down to a crisp.”
“That’s my fault,” Penelope says.
“Wow,” Lana says. “You’re actually admitting it?”
My eyes widen. “What are you doing?” I hiss.
“I wanted to lure Caruso out,” she adds, ignoring me.
“Lure him out?” my father rasps.
“He was responsible for my sister’s death,” she says. “Eve Ricci.”
“And the plot thickens …” Lana muses, crossing her legs.
“Lana,” my father warns, and his eyes home in on Penelope. “Ricci … That’s not what you told me your name was.”
Penelope gulps. “I know.”
“I wouldn’t tell a soul either, knowing how our families live,” Dylan says. “I don’t blame her for giving a fake name.”
“You defend her?” my father asks. “After burning down the entire school?”
“Well, it’s not entirely burned down,” Dylan says, shrugging. “Just the ground floor.”
My father pulls off his glasses and rubs his nose and eyes. “Semantics will do you no good.”
“Caruso was threatening her,” I say, folding my arms.
“All I’m hearing is allegations with no proof. Where is he?”
“Dead,” Alistair responds with a weird grin attached. “Down in the ditch below The Edge.”
My father’s face turns white as snow as he lowers his hand. “What the hell happened?”
“He tried to kill us all,” I say. “It was self-defense.”
His eyes narrow as he focuses on me. “Are you telling me you killed him?”
Dylan shrugs. “Well, technically, Nessie did, but—”
“Nessie?” my father interjects.
“Our snake,” I respond.
Lana snorts. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s true,” Ali replies.
“Where is your proof?” my father asks. “Unless you can deliver substantial proof, I’m going to have to let Officer King arrest all of you.”
“What?!” Lana gasps. “But I didn’t even do anything, I wasn’t fucking there!”
Dylan swiftly fishes his phone from his pocket and clicks on some things, then turns up the volume. “I taped everything my father said.”
When he plays the clip, his father’s wretched voice spells out every part of his diabolical plans. A conversation between him and Dylan after he tried to take him in his car. But Dylan’s a smart guy. He knew not to trust his dad.
The moment the clip ends I breathe a sigh of relief. Damn, even though I’m glad Dylan made sure to record that convo, I do not like listening to that asshole’s voice.
“There’s your proof,” Dylan says, holding out the phone.
My father takes it and replays the clip again.
“Well, I guess you’re not as dumb as you look,” Lana muses.
“Wow,” Dylan retorts. “I bet you’re just angry Felix won’t let you jump on this piece of wood.” He makes some lewd gestures at his dick.
Which really, really makes it hard for me not to pummel him in the face and balls.
God knows he likes to fucking test our friendship.
“Keep it in your fucking pants,” I growl back.
Lana laughs. “No thanks, I don’t take other people’s trash.”
“Wow,” Alistair says. “Well, I guess one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” And he winks at Dylan.
“Lana, enough,” my father growls at her, and she immediately shuts her mouth and averts her eyes, but not before rolling them into oblivion, getting me to seethe with rage.
My father blows out a sigh and turns toward the window, gazing at the scene outside.
“So … turns out Caruso was nothing but a low criminal.” He sighs again. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Out of all the board members, he was always the most … difficult one to deal with.” He turns around again. “His death was … unfortunate. But inescapable, it seems.”
“Are you going to arrest us?” Dylan asks.
“For the death of your father?” my father replies, and Dylan swallows. “No.”
There’s almost a collective sigh of relief.
“Considering his actions, the matter will be taken care of privately.”
“You mean you’ll sweep it under the rug,” Lana says.
“However, I will keep you all responsible for the incredible mess at the Skull & Serpent Society house.”
“Aw …” Dylan groans.
“What about the school?” Ali asks.
“It’ll require a ton of renovations,” my father explains. “Which will not be cheap.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure we can work something out,” Penelope says, folding her arms.
“I’m sure we can, Miss Ricci.” He smiles at her. “I know your father. I’m sure he’d be happy to foot the bill to maintain … order.”
Order. Or in other words, to prevent a massive Mafia war from breaking out between all the families.
“What about us. Are we expelled?” I ask bluntly.
My father clears his throat. “No.”
There’s a collective sigh of relief in the room.
“So who’s gonna run the show now that Caruso is dead?” Lana asks nonchalantly.
“I will,” her father replies, and she almost falls off her chair.
“What?!”
“Don’t act so surprised,” he responds. “It’s about time someone actually started managing this place properly.” He eyes us all down. “Be happy I’m allowing you all to stay and fix your mess after all the shit you caused.”
“Will she be allowed to stay too?” Ali asks, looking at Pen.
There’s a knock on the door and my father averts his gaze. “Come in.”
Two fuckers, one with a gnarly scar covering his eye, and the other with a missing finger, walk inside.
So I do the only thing I can think of and pull out my fucking knife, ready to take the remaining fingers and eye.
