Page 49 of Endless Anger (Monsters Within #1)

Beckett’s eyes find me from the front of the classroom where he’s been chatting up Professor Ouellette for the past ten minutes, much to her dismay. She’s seated behind her desk, pumping hand sanitizer into her palm and listening to him with a mildly irritated look on her face.

The gold ring she wears on her left hand is bright against her brown skin and new. I wonder when that happened and if her partner is aware of the history that comes with the founding families. Even the ones who removed themselves from Fury Hill but have somehow found their way back.

Eventually, Beckett breaks away from the professor, and she turns around to write on the whiteboard. Instead of taking a seat, Beckett meanders over to me, joined by Eli and Tiernan something.

“We missed you at Avernia’s midterm budget meeting.” Beckett’s smarmy smile sends a shiver across my skin as he places a hand on my desk.

I scoff but don’t reply, opening up my notes from last week.

“It felt a little weird having discussions about where to allocate school funds without some chick sitting in the back row questioning every single bullet point,” Tiernan adds. “You’ve been a little subdued lately though.”

“Guess we have Anderson to thank for that.” Beckett cocks a brow, taunting me. “Though I can’t figure out for the life of me why a promising student like him would want to slum it with trash.”

“Aw, are you jealous?” I lean forward, returning his overly-sweet grin. “You wish it was you he was obsessed with, don’t you? I’d heard rumors that you were into powerful men, but I didn’t realize that extended to students too.”

He narrows his eyes. “Not all students. Just that one.”

“Why? You do realize he doesn’t give a shit about you, right?”

Tiernan crosses his arms. “What, like he cares about you or something? The dude seems seriously unbothered.”

Eli doesn’t say a word, tracing his index finger over a big AC carved into one of the desks.

My gaze darts between the three of them, anxiety collecting in my chest. Not because of the teasing—that, I’m used to—but because of the tone. The prodding. It feels more like they’re out for information than simply trying to fuck with me, and I’m not sure I like the subject.

If Asher is already involved with the Curators, I know he’d have mentioned our history. He tells everyone about us. And if he hasn’t, there must be some reason.

When I look at Eli, his green eyes quickly bounce away. What’s a Visio Aternae member doing hanging out with a Curator anyway? Other than being founding family royalty, I can’t imagine the two have much in common.

Unless Eli’s considering defecting.

Or being forced to.

“All right, class, settle into your seats, please.” Professor Ouellette claps her hands, making a sweeping gesture toward us. She gives Beckett a pointed stare, and he lifts his hands in surrender, backing away from my desk.

“Guess I’ll see you at my party later,” he says, ignoring Tag’s presence entirely. “Think you can stay out of trouble for one night?”

His parting words leave a pit of dread in my stomach, but it’s mostly forgotten when the lecture begins, and I try my best to focus, considering my midterm project was unfinished when I submitted it.

Professor Ouellette is much less forgiving than Professor Dupont, so I need some sort of effort to keep me from being dropped from the class before the semester ends.

Later, when he comes by Erebus Hall to walk me to the Curator clubhouse, Tag shoves a crumpled paper into my hand, then takes my arm, half dragging me in the direction of the old Victorian.

“You don’t have to hold me,” I say, tugging away.

“Open it,” he replies.

Rolling my eyes, I smooth out the sheet, using my thigh for leverage. Printed in bold black letters at the top are the words Fury Hill Animal Shelter: Donation Receipt .

I scan quickly, my eyes widening when I get to the bottom, and dig my heels into the ground to stop walking. Tag spins to face me, releasing my arm.

“What the hell is this?” I demand, pointing at the dollar amount listed. “You donated ten grand to the shelter? ”

Tag purses his lips. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

Suspicion claws at my throat. His pout turns into a grin, and then he kicks at a rock aimlessly, shrugging his shoulders.

My eyes narrow. “ You donated this much? Doesn’t your mom own a grocery store in Portland?”

He laughs. “Does that mean I can’t fundraise? Ten thousand dollars isn’t really that much in the grand scheme of things, you know.”

In the adult world, he’s not really wrong, but it also doesn’t sound like something that someone who grew up living paycheck to paycheck would ever say. It sounds like something that was planted there for him to regurgitate to me.

“You only had fifty at my booth. Now all of a sudden, you’ve managed to cough up ten grand?”

“I’m a very hard worker. Also, has anyone ever told you that you have trust issues?”

“One person, yes. My former best friend.” I push a finger into his chest. “Who really gave this money?”

Tag’s dark eyes fill with glee. “Seems like maybe you already know.”

Letting my arm fall to my side, I look past Tag toward the decrepit Victorian mansion where half the Curators live. It’s lit up inside and out, and bass carries across the quad, making the damp air pulsate.

Then I turn back around, staring up at Erebus Hall looming like a haunted palace with the full moon hanging bright behind it. Inhaling deeply, I ball the paper in my fist and spare Tag a brief glance. “Go on without me, all right?”

He hesitates. “You’ve got a weird look in your eyes?—”

“Just go, Holland. Yuri’s at the party already, guaranteed. She likes weed and peach candies, like the ones they sell in the refectory. Bring her some, and she’s yours forever.”

Clicking his tongue, he gives me a half bow before darting off in the opposite direction. I snort when he trips, catching himself before he can fall, and disappears behind the corner of the Lyceum.

Then I go back into the dorm.