Page 165 of Tempting Little Thief

Dom: You boys sharing a bed now?

Alto: Fuck off.

I look to Dom with a small grin. “You’re an ass.”

He smirks, having already packed my bag for me, and hangs it over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

He nods, face once again unreadable as we step into the hall.

“Calvin hasn’t shown for an announcement since Claire Walter was exposed for selling information to the Russian Mafia three terms ago.”

Dom nods but doesn’t say a word. He never does when there’re this many ears around.

As we curve right into the main hall, Ander and Bronx come from the left, falling in line beside us, and the four of us walk toward its end, where, in perfect timing, Delta and Alto come into view.

Heads held high and faces carefree, we strut our way across the room, listening to the whispers of those around us as they try and guess what we’re about to walk into.

Here, you just never know.

We make our way through the heavy double doors held open by staff members and descend the stairs. The auditorium is set deep below, like a giant, rectangular bowl. The highest level of seating is the first row you pass, and we continue down the steps until we reach the box seats at the bottom, reserved especially for us.

Single file, we slide, Damiano on one side of me, Bronx on the other.

The room echoes as everyone enters, the chatter loud as people laugh and joke, enjoying the few minutes free from class, an extreme rarity. In fact, it almost never happens.

Classes are interrupted for nothing here at Greyson Elite.

Even when the spy was uncovered, a student Calvin and our fathers had overridden us on, thank you very much, he waited and stole our free lunchtime to deliver the news.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, Calvin walks into the room from the far east door. He’s perfectly poised, his suit pressed, and he walks with his chin held high, an approachable smile across his handsome face. The Greyson Elite crest is etched proudly on his left pec and he waves to a few students as he makes his way to the podium that’s been placed in the center.

The room instantly falls silent, so when the door on the west side of the room opens with a small creak, all eyes are called to that location.

My muscles tense as my father walks in, his face blank and unreadable, but my heart doesn’t start pounding until Bronx’s father comes into view, and right behind him Senator DeLeon, Delta’s grandfather. The senatornevercomes here. Ever.

I know this has nothing to do with my little outing and pyro moment of weakness four nights ago. I was high-strung after everything with Oliver and thoughts of he who shall not be named, and after I told Sai what happened with Oliver, he covered for me, somehow got the guards on his side when he made up a lie, saying he knew I was struggling and just needed a little moment to breathe, so he took me out in the souped-up sports car and sat there silently in the passenger seat while I sped around the hillside lost in my own thoughts. I did speed around the hillside and he did lie there silently, but that’s because he was knocked out cold from the horse tranquilizer I shot him with. And my dad never did find out about the destroyed gas station.

Guilt works its way through my stomach, turning it, but it goes away quickly enough. The old man woke the next day, likely devastated and at a loss of what to do, only to find an obscene amount of money funneled into his bank account with no explanation, but I’m sure he put two and two together. He no longer has to worry about his bad knees or needing anyoneto help him stock his shelves or clean his dumpster or use his yard as a body dumping ground just to get that little extra help.

Glacier eyes and gorgeous tattoos flash through my mind, bringing with it an ache I can’t shake, but I stomp the photo out as quickly as possible and refocus. Only then realizing our family members are not the only ones who have joined us. None other than Otto freaking Henshaw is following on their heels.

Damiano pulls in a long, steadying breath beside me, and when I flick my eyes his way while remaining facing forward, I catch the sharpness of his clenched jaw.

Using my peripheral, I peek at the girls, knowing that they’re doing the same.

The only time our parents have been in this place at the same time was the first day of our term here at Greyson Elite and never again after that, and that day, Delta’s shit for a mom was here to stand for her, not the senator. My father and Bronx’s do come, making their random visits as if to show support and to appear as devoted members of our union. They also show their faces to remind people of who they are, maybe how big and strong and influential others need to see them as. Because that’s exactly what they are.

But Mr. Henshaw? He doesn’t belong at their side. He may be on the council with Calvin, but he’s not a part of our core that makes up the Greyson Union, and this is Greyson Elite. So again, he does not belong at their side while they stand strong in front of all of our students and staff.

Calvin clears his throat and I wait with bated breath for him to begin to speak.

“Again, good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for making your way in here as quickly as I asked. We won’t keep you away from your studies any longer than we must, so we’re going to get right to it.” He glances around the room, and I watch as his chest rises with a calculated inhale. “It has come to our attention that four nights ago, a student of ours went missing.”

The whispers begin instantly, but the second Calvin raises his palm, absolute silence falls once again.

“A little after six p.m. on Thursday evening, Oliver Henshaw was seen leaving the male locker room with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He returned to the dorms, using the underground tunnel as required, and was spotted entering the shower before returning to his room. What happened after he stepped into his assigned dorm that night, we do not yet know.”

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