Page 63 of Kingmakers, Graduation

I’m a stranger. An intruder.

They regard me silently.

I speak instead: “Adrik said you guys need some help opening jars.”

It’s not the world’s greatest icebreaker, but it’s enough to get a smirk out of Chief.

Not Vlad. “Why don’t you help us decorate?” he sneers.

I feel Adrik stiffen, but I cut across him.

“Sure,” I say easily. “Let’s start with that shirt.”

That gets a snort out of the two gamers, Andrei and Hakim.

Andrei pipes up. “A Gallo, huh? Was Leo busy?”

It’s still insulting, but not a bad sign. Ribbing is better than cold silence. If you can’t take a few shots, you’ll never fit in with men. They really are pack-animals, releasing their aggression publicly in front of the group so the group determines the appropriate behavior. They don’t bottle shit up and bitch behind your back—or at least, not often.

Andrei obviously knows Leo, but he’s too old to be in the same year. So I know exactly how to respond.

“Yeah.” I grin. “He’s all tuckered out from running train on you at school.”

This gets a laugh out of the gamers and Chief as well.

The chill in the room is warming, at least a few degrees.

Vlad isn’t biting, hefty arms crossed, a scowl on his face. “I thought this house was patch-only.”

He means the tattoos. It must be a rite of passage before entering the Wolfpack.

Adrik says, “This house was supposed to be brains only, but we let you in.”

Now they’re all laughing, and Vlad looks suitably stupid.

The tension is broken, as much as it needs to be for now. The real work will take place one-on-one as I get to know them individually.

Nobody welcomes change, but if I want you to like me, you’re damn well gonna like me. I’m as relentless as Adrik, in my own way.

“Do we need to clear out a room?” Chief asks.

“No,” Adrik says. “She’ll be staying with me.”

Andrei and Hakim exchange a glance across the space between their beanbag chairs, but this is no more than they expected. The calm holds.

“Come on,” Adrik says, “I’ll show you the room.”

We retrieve our suitcases, carrying them up the narrow staircase to the top floor.

I’m relieved everyone here speaks English. It’s the lingua francaat Kingmakers, and probably in this house, too, if Adrik gathered his Wolfpack from several countries.

I expect Adrik’s room to be the largest and most luxurious. In actuality, it looks much like the others we passed on our way. A wide, low bed takes up most of the space, covered with a red cotton comforter in folk print. The bed is neatly made, the room cleaner than any other part of the house. I doubt this was for my benefit—Adrik is more disciplined than he looks, and much more organized.

A wardrobe stands on one side of the room, a hefty bookshelf on the other, its shelves stuffed with tattered paperbacks.

“Did you bring those from home?” I ask Adrik.

He shakes his head. “I bought a crate of books in Danilovsky market. I like to read to wind down. I’m not sure exactly what’s in there, actually—haven’t had the chance to go through them all.”

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