Page 79 of Defiant Beta

“How many secrets floated around in your school that the teachers knew nothing about?”

Ah…

“You weren’t at the school long,” I remind her. “You couldn’t have heard much.”

“Of course not,” she says and gets to her feet. “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever thing you’re doing. Maybe you’ll figure it out.”

“Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me, Miss Jackson,” I call after her.

But I’m tempted. More tempted than I should be.

Because she’s right.

Teachers back at school hardly knew anything about our lives. But Haven is different. At a boarding school whereeveryone lives on campus, students have more access to their teachers than I did at a school that closed its doors at three.

Della would have spoken with students who have been at the school for years. They would have had siblings who attended before them who might know things we could never know, especially now, with only Xavier to continue the investigation.

I’m still not sure why I brought Della to this house, or what I hoped to achieve. The fewer people who know about me, my pack, and what we’re doing, the better. Having a stranger wandering around is not wise.

She stops in the doorway and turns to face me. “I’m merely offering to help you get the thing you want, and, in return, you can help me get the thing I want. If you don’t want it?” She shrugs. “I’ll figure out my own thing. I don’t need you the way you need me.”

And she walks out, closing the door behind her.

Chapter 26

Della

Turnsout that reverse psychology does not work on everyone like I thought. Who knew?

I silently curse while forcing myself up the stairs.

“Miss Jackson! Come back here.”

I’m tired and I could do with sitting down, but it sounds like I just won a battle I did not foresee winning.

I turn around and walk back down the stairs.

Professor Vincent or Dexter Pieter, the secretive head of the Council, is not in his office. That door is firmly closed.

He’s in the stark white ultra-modern kitchen.

He points at the black stool on the other side of the kitchen island. “Sit.”

My eyes narrow. “I am not a dog.”

As he walks over to me, I wonder if I need to learn to keep my mouth shut so it doesn’t keep getting me into trouble.

I’ve had a painful encounter with three alphas, and I’m not looking for another.

He stops inches away from me and looks me straight in the eye. “If we do this, there are going to be rules.”

“Like?”

“You will come down in the morning, and you will eat your meals instead of disposing of them the way you have been.”

“No, I haven’t,” I lie.

“Do I need to show you the trash you threw out?”

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