Chapter Twenty-Five
Isaiah
I stalked into the locker room, whipped the maroon tie off my neck, and threw it to the floor. Cade flicked his eyes over to me as he was pulling on his white lacrosse jersey. Just as soon as it was over his head, I barked out a demand. “I need everyone on the field but you, Shiner, and Brantley.”
“Bro,” Cade started. “The game’s in thirty…” His sentence trailed off because the look I shot him caused him to close his mouth quickly. “Everyone out. Now!” he shouted, waving his hand in the air. The rest of our team paused, some with their jerseys on, some shirtless and mid-laugh. It didn’t take them long to see that something was going on with us, and they knew better than to ask. Locker doors were slammed, lacrosse gear was snagged, and soon enough, they were all filing out of the locker room, and it was the four of us surrounded by metal lockers, empty showers, and the echo of m
y racing heart.
As soon as the last person piled out—Mason, that slow fuck—I shot a venomous look at Shiner before giving no indication that I was about to take my fist and plummet it into his pretty-boy face. I watched for a split second as his expression went from confused to oh fuck before my closed hand landed on his cheekbone with a loud thud.
“What the fuck, Isaiah!” Brantley stepped in between us the second I pulled back, and his brows clearly showed his anger. “What are you doing?”
My hands immediately went to my hips, creeping underneath my jersey. I ignored the pain in my hand from punching one of my best friends, but that was what happened when you deliberately disobeyed an order that I gave.
Granted, Cade was right earlier. Shiner was in the dark, and it was biting me in the ass, but I wanted to set this conversation off on the right foot, friend or not. I needed him to understand that there were bigger things at play here. Because what he didn’t know was that innocent lives quite literally dangled in the crossfire when it came to me and Bain and this school. A little punch to Bain’s face from Shiner was all in fun childish games to him, but to me? It wasn’t. It wasn’t a game at all.
“I looked you right in the face, and I told you to drop the Bain thing.” My voice was calm as I leveled Shiner with a glare. His hard cheekbone was red and swelling, but it didn’t deter from his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw.
“And I didn’t listen,” he bit out. “I don’t think that fucking deserves a punch to my face, does it? This isn’t the fucking mafia, Isaiah.”
My voice echoed against the metal of our lockers. “If it were the mafia, I would have chopped your fucking hand off.” Something my father would have no issue doing.
Brantley was still standing in between us as a buffer, but he didn’t need to any longer. I wasn’t going to do anything else. My intention was to get Shiner’s attention, and I needed him to shut his bantering mouth for more than three fucking seconds so I could get out what needed to be said. “There are things you don’t know, Shiner,” I started, dropping the firmness in my voice for a split second. “Things you are better off not knowing.”
He huffed, shaking his head with what seemed to be disbelief. “Yeah, no shit, Isaiah.” His chin tipped to Brantley and Cade. “You three have something going on, a secret bromance or some shit. I’m not fucking blind. I’ve seen the way you three have silent conversations.”
Cade scoffed. “It is not a bromance, you fuck.”
I ignored Cade and crossed my arms over my jersey. “Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Shiner. Welcome to our fucked-up lives.” I flashed a look to the clock hanging over the door, seeing we had fifteen minutes to get on the field before Coach came in here and chewed our asses for skipping out on warm-up. “Sit the fuck down and listen, because I’m only going to tell you this once.”
Shiner glanced at Cade and Brantley as they slowly came over and stood behind me, backing me with my decision to tell Shiner that we weren’t just a bunch of bad-boy shitheads trying to get through their senior year at a stuffy boarding school by pulling pranks and skipping classes. In fact, we were trying to drag this year out as long as possible because what awaited us afterwards was nothing but stripped-away freedom with danger on the horizon at all times.
“My father didn’t send me to St. Mary’s just to get rid of me, like most students here,” I started before shooting Cade and Brantley a quick look over my shoulder. “I’m here on behalf of my father. We all are.” It almost killed me to say his name out loud. Not the name he used to front his many contributions to orphanages and group homes. Not the name that was signed off on checks for donations and charitable goods. No, I meant the name that others had been known to shiver at the sound of. The name that I’d someday take as my own, even though it cut me in half to think about.
“Your father?” Shiner asked, cocking a brow.
“Yeah. My father…The Huntsman.”
After Shiner finally picked his jaw up off the locker room floor and wrapped his head around what I’d told him, the four of us rushed out onto the field with our crosses in hand.
The air was dense with fog, the sun completely forgotten by the coverage of thick clouds. Our cleats stuck in the wet ground as we kicked back clumps of mud to the opposing team every so often. We were already in the second quarter, and just when I was getting in the zone and giving myself that break from the everyday nagging of my father’s voice in the back of my head and his threats laced with sin over sending Jack to the Covens, Shiner came up behind me with his crosse in hand, eyes set on a defender on the other side of the field. “I can’t fucking believe that your father is The Huntsman. Like…” He gasped for a breath of air, ready to jog past me. “The fucking Huntsman. Shit, Isaiah.” I caught the look of anguish on the tight creases of his eyes, and I shook my head.
“It’s whatever,” I muttered. “Get your head in the fucking game. We’re down by two.” I brushed off the pity he was unintentionally giving me and acted like my father being the Huntsman wasn’t a big deal, but it was. God, it fucking was. My father was feared by most. When people said his name out loud, they shuddered. Death followed everywhere he went. He’d killed people. He’d killed people right in front of me. I’d felt someone else’s blood splatter across my face as he held the cold gun in his hand. The same cold gun that he’d later sell in his multi-million-dollar illicit trade business. People knew of the name, even if they were in no way affiliated. The elusive Huntsman was the center of the news most of the time, while my father kicked back and laughed. I was certain the authorities had given up trying to put a face to the name.
I blinked away the thoughts as Shiner nodded sharply before sprinting past and slyly cross-checking someone twice his size, causing their body to thud to the ground. Mud splattered over the side of Shiner’s white jersey, and I grinned. That’s what I’m talking about. Fuck the future. Seeing Shiner cross-checking a prestigious pretty boy from Washington High was what I needed to bring me back to the present. Washington High’s biggest concern was fucking up a game of lacrosse in front of their girl. Mine? Mine was keeping my brother out of hell and keeping myself in check long enough to find a way out for both of us. But right now, I’d focus on this. The game.
After Shiner cross-checked the opposing player, causing the ball to fly through the air, Brantley snagged it and began working his way down the other side of the field, where I trailed him, body-checking a few guys of my own who stood too close. My gaze wandered momentarily, locking onto Gemma for the fifth time in the last half hour. She sat in the same spot on the metal bleachers, with Sloane on her right and Mercedes on her left. She stuck out like a sore thumb because she was in a completely enthralling trance of the game. Every other girl around her was chatting away or laughing with their heads thrown back, but not Gemma.
Her eyes followed me. Even with the disadvantage of distance, I could feel her lingering gaze. My lungs burned with the thought, which was something new for me, but it was a flame I’d gladly keep lighting.
Because for once, I felt something more than dreadful numbness and the smallest amount of trepidation. Gemma, the Good Girl, gave me a spark of hope that I could keep Jack safe, and that wasn’t something I’d felt in a long fucking time. I think the last time I’d let myself feel anything other than blinding anger was before Jacobi up and left me high and dry with our fucked-up father.
A smack to my back brought reality down on my shoulders again. The sounds were back, the wetness of the light rain pelting the skin of my arms. “You’re talking about me getting my head in the game?” Shiner tapped me against the back with his crosse, and if we weren’t in the middle of a game, I’d take mine and slice it behind his knees to make him fall. “You get your head in the game. Don’t worry. Gemma isn’t going anywhere, and Bain is tucked away nicely on the top bleacher with his eyes on Callie. He isn’t even paying attention to Gemma.”
I sighed, wishing I believed what Shiner said, but I knew, deep down, that Bain had his eyes not only on Gemma, but on me too.
Fucker.