I approach him, raising an eyebrow. “To thank you for not being a fucking snitch to Nitkin.”
He just gives me a nod and grabs his ball off the floor, tucking it under his arm. “No problem, I’m not a snitch.”
“Right, well, I thought you might want to hang out with us tonight at the ruins. A few of us are having some beers.”
He tilts his head and glares at me warily. “I thought you were here to try to beat me up again.” His eyes dart to Nik, who is still resting against the wall, watching.
I hold a hand out to him. “Truce?”
There’s a few moments of silence until he nods and takes my hand, shaking it firmly. “Truce.”
I smile and nod Nik over. “This is Nik. He can be an asshole most of the time, but he’s alright when you get to know him.”
Rizzo nods at him. “Cool, so how long have you been attending this shithole?”
I chuckle at that. “Since I was thirteen. I was moved from Mexico suddenly and sent here by my father.”
Rizzo’s jaw clenches. “I know the feeling. My father just shipped us over from Italy.”
Nik sighs. “I’ve been here since I was eight years old. Count yourself lucky.” He glares at Rizzo. “Especially you, you only have less than a full year to endure.”
I meet Rizzo’s gaze. “At least you can speak English. My English was shit when I arrived.”
Nik nods. “It was pretty fucking awful, and yet somehow you put yourself on top from day one.”
I shrug. “Mexican stubbornness, I guess. I would not be bossed around by gringos.”
Rizzo laughs at that. “Fair enough. Any tips?”
I put my arm over his shoulder. “Yeah, stay with us and you’ll be fine.”
The kid tenses a little but is quick to relax, nodding. “Sure thing.”
I remove my arm from him and nudge him in the ribs. “I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Nik says, running a hand across the back of his neck. “Let’s head to dinner.”
Rizzo glances at the basketball on the floor as if wondering whether to abandon his workout for food.
“You going to come, Bianchi?” I ask.
“Sure.” He grabs his rucksack off the floor and shoulders it. “Lead the way.”
I feel satisfied that it was so easy to get Rizzo Bianchi onto my side, as I need guys like him on my team.
After all, there are always assholes trying to claim the crown from me.
Boys who think they’re men, challenging me and my place at the top. Rizzo is the first kid who I wouldn’t have bet against actually succeeding, so best to have him on my side.
As we round the corner into the main corridor, I almost slam straight into Finn Murphy, one of the assholes who thinks he’s tough.
He’s flanked by his two Irish friends, as they seem to stick together, Sean Kelly and Rowan O’Sullivan. “Look who it is, lads,” he says, smirking.
I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes. “What the fuck do you want, Finn?”
He tilts his head. “Still so cocky about your position here, aren’t you Elias?” He chuckles. “King of The Syndicate Academy, but for how long?”
I clench my fists by my side, smirking. “Say that again, and I’ll make sure you have no fucking teeth left.”