Page 4 of Prey

“Going to buy a bag of Cheetos,” I informed her, walking away so she knew I wasn’t going to hang around and annoy her. “Got cravings.”

Once I reached the end of the field, I turned back to catch my twin, quickly looking down as if she’d been watching me. That good ol’ friend called suspicion crawled down my spine, and Ibrushed it aside, deciding she was nothing to worry about. She’s just a shy girl living in a loud, angry world.

By the time I bussed to the campus Stop & Shop and bussed back to my street, then walked to Hallen Hall loaded with Cheetos and a bottle of Cola, I was starving. With the plan to stuff my face until I could not eat anymore, wallowing in my self-pity after being shafted by Shaun fuckface, who still hadn’t contacted me, not that I was expecting him to, I finally arrived at my door.

My feet froze to the floor as hesitation claimed me, and I feared going in. If someone could access my room, they could be there now. At least while I was in my room, I could hook the chain, but as soon as I left the room,they, whoever they were, could sneak in and wait for me to return.

Taking a deep breath, I used my keycard and pushed the door open a crack to peer inside. A girl came running up the stairs and glanced at me, frowning as if she thought I was weird, so to remove myself from her judging stare, I pushed the door further and entered.

When I shut the door, I ran my eyes over the wood to discover that the word "TRAITOR" was gone. Weird. After dumping my junk food shopping on the bed, I brushed my fingers over where the word was to find no trace of it. But the scent of methylated spirits carried on my skin, indicating that someone had come into my room to clean it off.

Let’s be rational about this. It had to be someone that Carly, the Hallen Hall Director, sent to have it cleaned off, but surely, she’d ask before going into my room where all my personal stuff was.

Slamming the door behind me in anger, I hightail it down the hall to hunt down Carly to give her a piece of my mind.

3

What’s your hunch? Do you think it’s her?” I pressed Shaun as he sauntered into our campus headquarters in the basement underneath the science library. I’d been waiting for his report since this morning and organized him to befriend the girl, siphon information out of her, and then report back to me. I gave him strict instructions that he must not touch her until we had a definite and irrefutable identity on her.

If it was not her, he could do whatever he wanted, but if it was her, he needed to keep his hands to himself.

“It’s hard to tell just by a couple of photographs of what she looked like three years ago,” Shaun answered, parking his ass down in the armchair opposite us.

Ronan, who was practically family, sat quietly, taking it all in as he usually did. He listened and internally scrutinized before coming to a conclusion or making a decision. He’s a senior here at Gotland and had been running the syndicate on behalf of my cousin for three years until our lawyers proved at a hearing that Mikael was set up and would be released from prison next week.

Thank fuck because we need him back.

The deal was that Ronan had to work for his degree while overseeing the Gothenburg syndicate, but all orders still came from Mikael directly from Gothenburg prison.

“She’s definitely hiding something, though,” Shaun added as Callum came striding in and picked up a pool cue. “I tried to ask her about the town she allegedly came from, but she just gave me generic answers.”

“What is the town?” I asked him for clarification.

“Luton,” he replied. “Population six hundred; therefore, you’d think someone would’ve heard of a Riley Laws. But, Nah. Zilch.”

“Almost like Riley Laws doesn’t exist,” Callum stated as he lined up the white ball to take a shot.

When my parents officially adopted her after living with us for over a year, she was nine years old. It was a no-brainer; she was sweet, likable, quiet, and well-behaved and she quickly became my best friend. We were the same age, and we went to elementary school together, and life seemed normal for us kids.

Except it was far from normal.

My father was the head of the Larsson syndicate, and although business was done away from the house, the police were regular visitors. My father was arrested and imprisoned for four years when we were ten years old and my mom ran the business singlehandedly.

When I was sixteen, my father was murdered, and my cousin, Mikael, my father’s most trusted ally and second in charge of the syndicate, stepped up. He was young but grew up in the business and was loyal to a fault to our family and the cause. He was arrested for our father’s murder a month later, but we knew it was a stitch-up, and we worked tirelessly with lawyers to have his charges overturned.

Now, he’s about to be released from prison, and,Annika, I could barely say her fucking name, was the one who dropped his name, claiming to be a witness.

She disappeared three years ago and went underground into a police protection program, and we couldn’t find her anywhere. Her name and appearance were undoubtedly changed, but since she had no family to run to, it was harder to track her down.

A week ago, I saw a girl who looked like my foster sister Annika at Gotland University. I know it’s been three years, and her hair is different, and she’s wearing glasses, but some things never change. The way that ass wiggles in skin jeans and the bow of her head and the way she bit her lip and furrowed her brow when concentrating.

Shaun took a swipe card from his pocket and placed it on the old wooden beer crate we used as a coffee table. “A copy of her keycard,” he stated proudly, “at Hallen Hall.”

“So, you had a look around her room?” I prompted, eager to hear what they discovered, but by Shaun’s casualness, I doubted they found anything of interest.

“Yeah, but we found nothing to indicate that she was anyone but Riley Laws,” he confessed. “But as I already said, she’s hiding something. She’s on edge, nervous, and always looking around like she’s expecting someone to jump out of the bushes. I tried to test and trip her up on her name, but she didn’t fall for it.”

“She didn’t fall for it because her actual name is Riley,” Ronan finally speaks. “You’re following a false lead.”

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