Page 51 of Validus Vale Academy 1
“Good for you,” I reply, the disinterest in my voice genuine. It really is time I got them both removed from the penthouse. Sure, officially, the top three Elite share this suite, but they were so far below my status that it made sense I had the place to myself.
“Gonna be really good for me,” Troy snickers, oblivious to my disdain. “Manu’s got us some fresh dud to play with. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
Dud? The word hangs in the air for a moment.
My mind fizzes with a flicker of something I don’t want to acknowledge. “A new dud, eh? So where’s Manu hosting this party?” I drawl like it’s the most boring question in the world.
“Never mind,” Troy says a little too quickly, his eyes flicking away. “Forget I said anything.” He makes a move towards the apartment door, and that’s when my fingers twitch, the familiar hum of my power a subtle warning in the air.
Troy stops dead, a wince twisting his features. “The fuck?”
“Which dud?” I say, my voice calm, but with an edge. I give a barely perceptible squeeze of my control to tighten the atmosphere.
“Fuck off, Cosmo. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Which. Dud.”
Yeah, it’s considered a serious breach of etiquette to compel another Elite, a power play that usually ends badly. Still, Troy’s barely scraping third in the ranking, nowhere near my league. Etiquette can go fuck itself.
He lets out a frustrated groan. “Alright, fuck, man—chill. That cute little dud that was here. Manu texted and said they were hanging out and she’s down for some playtime.”
A flash of anger runs through my body, but I don’t show it. “No can do,” I tell him. “She’s mine.” Troy might not like it, but even his thick skull understands the unspoken rules. I’m number one in this school. I get the pick of whatever litter I choose.
And laying a finger on what’s mine is an invitation to a world of pain.
“Aww, man, fucking cock block. Does Manu know about this?” Troy whines.
“I’m going to tell him right now.”
“Fine.” Troy turns tail and storms into his room.
My animal instinct is to rush out into the night, hunt down Manu, and teach him not to mess with my property, but I try never to give in to my base side. I take the marginally less volatile route and pull out my phone, hitting Manu’s number.
It rings and rings, unanswered. Ignored.
Not good.
I disconnect and call Theodora Fucking Wilson instead. She picks up on the fifth ring. “H-h-hello?”
Her voice is soft, hesitant, and definitely not laced with the sounds of whatever ‘playtime’ Manu had in mind. More like I’ve just dragged her out of a deep sleep.
“Where are you?” I bark the question sharply.
“Er, in my dorm room?” she answers.
“Alone?”
“What? Yes, of course—why?”
I hang up. Whatever Manu had planned, it seems that Wilson managed to avoid it. I don’t try to dissect the unexpected wave of relief that washes over me. But one thing is clear: Mr. Manu Hale and I are going to have a very serious fucking conversation.
Going back to the matter at hand, I return to Striker’s report. She’d better hurry the fuck up with Dartmouth’s location. The sooner I get my hands on that slippery bastard, the sooner some of these pieces will finally click into place.
A chime from my tablet breaks the silence. It’s a reminder about morning detention with Professor Feniks. Shit. Another problem to deal with. If Striker can dig up some dirt on that prick, he’ll learn to fall into line soon enough.
I grudgingly set my alarm for five-thirty. I’m always up early to run anyway, but it’s the principle of the thing that grates.
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