Page 74 of Twisted Lies

“I’m sorry,” I snap and then force the tone out of my voice. “It makes no sense to me that Pierce and Bryce run the club when they do the least.”

Justin glances around to make sure no one is near as we walk along the path. We move away from the classrooms and toward the admin buildings. He stops when we reach the crossroad where the brick paths meet. From where we stand, no one can sneak up on us.

“Astrid, the Investors Club is a sham,” he whispers, “Once, it was legit, and students invested a few dollars on the stock market, but the money we made was laughable. The real money is in start-ups, so we started a gambling enterprise.”

“We?” I ask softly.

“The club is a cover for the Pit,” he replies, “But you must have figured that out. Without the Pit, there would be no club.

I hold up my index finger to stop the nonsense he’s spouting. “Even I knew about the Pit. I’ve known it was around since I was in middle school,” I tell him. “Maybe before that. You guys just make money off us.”

“Us?” he asks, arching a brow slightly, “Astrid, you keep forgetting you are us.” He places a firm hand on my shoulder. “Bryce and Pierce invested a lot of money into the Pit. Do you really think the money from admissions and drinks pays for the fights?”

“But when I asked about it at the club, y’all got funny.” My eyes widen. “Does Getz know everything?”

Justin stares over my head, carefully avoiding my questioning gaze. “It was a hypothetical school project. A sport that would pay its investors a huge profit.” Justin scoffs. “And then Bryce discovered the Pit one night, and the school project turned real.”

Suddenly, Justin takes his hand off my shoulder, and I turn to see why. The front steps of Foxworth House are visible from where we are standing, and Dr. Rawlins is on the steps, motioning for Justin to come. I’m about to make a rude comment, but my tongue sticks in my mouth when Justin’s skin turns pale.

A man takes a step toward Dr. Rawlins, and he looks very much like Justin. A lot older, a bit heavier, but the same hair, except shorter. The man’s broad smile is blinding as charisma radiates off him. He smiles at Justin, holding up his hand, and I finally recognize that face from the news feed. It’s his father, Governor Ted Leister. Why is he at Stonehaven?

“Should I walk with you?” I ask quietly.

Justin glares at me as if I have no common sense. “Aren’t you going to be late for class?” he says before walking away.

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