Page 52 of Dark Little Game
But he also controls everything.
The company we stand to inherit, as well as our own purse strings, until we turn 25. Until then, I have to fake respect for him. Kiss ass. And bide my time until Weston and I either hit 25 or one of us inherits Dad’s company, and then I can burn every remaining bridge between me and my family.
I dial his number as I walk down a path, heading away from Colossus dining hall.
“Hunter,” he answers in his deep baritone.
“Dad.”
“How does it feel to finally be a Crimson?”
I can hear his smug smile and theI-told-you-soin his voice.
Dad always wanted me to attend Crimson College, just like he did. Only Weston followed in his footsteps, though. I went off to London, where I would still be, if I hadn’t fucked with a goddamn crime family andhad to flee.
“Crimson College is entertaining.” Not what he wants to hear, but it’s sort of the truth.
I walk past a stone fountain, wishing the rush of water would drown out my father’s words a little better.
“I trust you’ll take your studies seriously now that you’re where you ought to be. Weston will keep you on track. He might finally have the edge on you. His grades improved last year.”
Always making it a competition between us.
Even still.
“My courses seem challenging.”
A group walks past me, and one student bumps into me with his backpack without even offering asorry.
“Watch yourself,” I mutter softly.
He turns around and gives me the finger. “Walk faster next time.”
Fucking spoiled prick.
I’m spoiled too, but not like some of the people here.
I can feel my hand tense up around the phone.
I canseewhat it would look like if I slipped out a throwing knife and put it right into that guy’s back.
If someone did something like that in London, or back in high school, I’d push him right back and start a fight.
I want to do it now.
Shove that fucker up against a tree andtakethe apology from him, if he won’t give it.
Because tonight I’m like a row of dominoes about to topple, and one more little push will set me off.
But I don’t touch him.
My father rattles off some boring details about his recent business trip in the tropics.
I duck into one of the tall stone buildings on the quad.
The tall wooden door shuts gently behind me, and the crickets’ song suddenly falls away into silence.
This is an academic building, and it’s late enough now that no classes are being held.
