Page 10 of Forget Me Twice

Like a benevolent overlord and not like we weren’t all just silently waiting for him to share exactly how he was planning to dispose of our bodies.

I can feel my team move a little closer, stand a little straighter. What utter bullshit has The Gray Man cooked up for us this time?

He ignores the men at my side, his focus solely on me now.

Interesting.

Unsettling.

“As you are well aware,” he continues. “Control of Roxborough’s city limits would solidify our hold over the State. This, along with my successful run for Governor, would free up the resources and manpower necessary for me to finish moving the other Southern pieces into place.”

I nod along. Every Suit alive knows dominion over Rox City has been Sebastian’s white whale since he maneuvered himself into power. Lexington’s less industrialized sister-city is located straight across the Tethys River, but remains firmly in the clutches of our organization’s number one rival—one-percenter MC, the Strange Aces.

In times of peace, the criminal Underworld in this country stays firmly divided into two distinct empires—the Northern and Southern Sovereignties.

The two normally coexist without too much extra bloodshed, but with the recent death of The Green Knight, The South has been left in total disarray. Multiple contenders for the throne have obviously stepped up, including Sebastian Grayson.

In fact, spread across the conference table between us is a topographical view of the two Sovereignties, drawn up and divided like a battle map. If the Suits can flip Roxborough, they can finish weeding out the remaining dozen Southern chapters of the Aces, leaving the rest of the disorganized bottom States to topple like dominoes.

The Gray Man would be unmatched in his bid for the Southern throne, his power and reach only equalled by the sitting leader of the North—a similarly dangerous and confident tyrant that styles himself simply as Midas.

The problem is, it’s only so long before all this infighting amongst the contending syndicates turns into an outright civil war. If The Gray Men don’t manage to secure the South soon, the Underworld’s Arbiter is going to step in and the issue will be settled for us.

“We already have recruiters working on Lexington Prep. Roxborough Academy’s graduating class, however, holds another source of untapped potential we’d be remiss to ignore.”

I know every last one of the file details of the Lex Prep upperclassman that Sebastian’s Front Men have recruited so far. But this is the first I’ve heard of any plans to expand into the Roxborough student population. I can’t say I’m surprised. As he said, we’d be stupid to ignore their existence just because it still falls under enemy territory.

The Aces have their claws in most everything down there, including many of the disenfranchised youth. There will be tons of impressionable and ambitious thugs greedy for a better offer, as well as a plethora of academic kids on the fast track with marketable skills that we can potentially tap into. I begrudgingly admit that it makes the most sense to hit them now; making sure the tendrils of influence can creep through one convenient location, taking rootbeforethey disperse out into the world of universities, internships and the greater workplace.

I groan inwardly at the thought of the amount of information associated with profiling an entire Academy of students and staff. We can’t have our Front Men going in without leverage on every single person associated with the place. I’m calculating roughly how much data that’s likely to involve when I realize that Sebastian’s still speaking.

“This obviously requires more preparation and finesse than was needed for Lex Prep. The local rhetoric there was already firmly in our favor.” He pauses, and there is now a hint of smug malice in his expression. I just know that this is the second chance he promised, and I am going to fucking hate whatever words he utters next.

“That’s why I am sending you in personally on this one, Sabine. You will head recruitment as an attending senior student at Roxborough Academy this coming academic year.”

My stomach does a little wobble.

I couldn’t care less about the fact I have to go back to school, even though I thought I was firmly done with it. I’ve been privately tutored since I was scooped up off the streets, and I’d already finished out enough credits to ‘graduate’ quietly months ago.

Seeing no real future outside of my role as The Librarian, I honestly gave up on the idea of higher education. Despite my ability to store visual data indefinitely, I don’t really believe I’m all thatsmart. It’s difficult to measure genius when you can memorize all the textbooks and reading materials and just regurgitate them as needed for written exams. I can speak dozens of languages because I can suck up facts and knowledge like a sponge, but I’m not logical, or strategic. I’m not inventive, progressive, or a pioneer of ideas.

And I’m definitely not clever or charming enough to manipulate teenagers into throwing their future lots in with a crime lord.

That’s something Jax would excel at though.

As if he could hear my thoughts, Sebastian’s attention moves back to Jax. “Your face and name are too recognizable as my son, so you will remain in Lexington by my side. Sabine will be theonlyone enrolling at or attending the Academy in any capacity. The rest of the Junior Council may station themselves in Roxborough, and offer their skillsoffcampus as needed.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch my Junior leader’s shoulders roll back and his posture stiff. I can feel the indignation and anger bristling from him like spines.

I don’t risk a glance at him. We can all hear the unspoken implication of Sebastian’s words.

He’s effectively neutering his son’s ability to lead and protect his team, and he’s throwing me in the deep end as an inexperienced Front Man, laying the responsibility of success or failure firmly atmyfeet. I can’t even have the rest of the Council as back up during school hours, carefully placed as staff members.

Sink or swim.

He suddenly lifts a folder from below the table, presumably from his signature, polished leather bag. Flicking it open, he runs his eyes quickly down the front page.

“This is a preliminary gathering of numbers. There are currently 871 students, and 217 primary and ancillary staff for you to cultivate intel from over the year. There is also a small but prominent group who seems to have established a power vacuum amongst the student body. The students call them the Rox Boys.” He taps almost absentmindedly at the numbers in front of him, but I know him too well. The movement is anything but.

---