Page 52 of Massacre Monday

“Blood was gushing all over his lips, but he just sucked it in like a fucking madman.”

As soon as he starts to drone on aboutCall of Dutytournaments with the Von Dovish boys, I tune out, but nod at the appropriate moments. By the time we’re climbing the stairs to my floor, he has me laughing again. A muscle in my cheek twitches from use. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to.

“Then what?”

“Then we ran out of toilet paper. Like, all of it. Not even any napkins left. It was a crisis.”

“So what’d you do?”

“You mean after we all washed our asses in the sinks until we got complaints, then started using neckties? We raidedTheta. Broke in at midnight and took four super-sized packs from the upstairs closet.”

I stop in the hallway and stare at him. “Oz.”

With a smirk, he shrugs. “We left a note.”

“A note?”

“It said ‘poop emergency.’”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Effective, though.”

When we approach my door, I notice something hanging on it, and my eyes narrow. Each step closer, my breathing gets shallower. My heart thuds against my ribs. And when I reach it, my knees go weak as I hit the ground, a scream ripping from my chest.

Someone nailed Gwen Newsome’s skinned face to my door.

seventeen

To anyone else,I suspect the room would be intimidating. Not so much the mahogany wainscoting covering the soaring stocked bookcases filled with ancient tomes of relics like,Violet Gray, The Gnu of Society.

Wait a minute. That one does seem odd…

Most likely, others would sense they need to be on their best behavior when in the presence of President of Northview University, Harmen Harvey. Especially when in his own domain.

I’d say he’s a man of about sixty, though his skin is a well preserved rich umber so he could be older. His eyes make me feel as if I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. The shade is an unwavering solid brown. However, thelookbehind them is what allows me to relax in his puffy wingback chair across from his cherry desk. Silently, they tell me,you’re here and you’re wanted.

I can’t say the same for the others in the room, who remain stiff, slyly ready for battle. All except my father, who perches over my left shoulder like he knows he already won.

Are we some of the most powerful men in this city? I suppose. But power is relative and always changing hands.

For example, my father and I strike deals with Mr. Burberry and Princeton Warrick of Warrick Jewels, but Chase Warrick stands aloof, with a smug smile on his face like he just claimed gold. He believes himself to have all the sway now.

The dolt just doesn’t understand what kind of favor he’s granted me.

“I believe this will bode well for all companies combined,” Mr. Burberry lies, slapping Princeton on the back.

Chase’s eyes narrow at my face before sliding down to my chest, sizing me up.

“I agree. Mr. Cardell? How about you? Now that the papers have been signed, how are you feeling?” President Harvey asks.

My father pats my shoulder, then tightens his grip on it lovingly. “I just want to see Ryan happy. Money doesn’t matter.”

The head of Northview gains an odd expression, one utterly unreadable, but the other men in the room look at my father with pity. Like he’s taken a hit and they believe he’s lost his edge. And though Xavier Cardell certainly believes riches are meaningless and his children’s satisfaction in life is paramount…he’s not an idiot.

This is a chess match filled with pawns.

And I’m a king.