Elias Morales.
The king of the Syndicate Academy and a complete and utter asshole. A tingle races down my spine as I take my first step toward the building, wondering if Camilla and Adrianna have arrived yet.
Every year without fail since he arrived, Elias has set out to make my life hell. Although, last year was the most tame year of them all. I’m hoping that the trend continues this year and he’ll keep mostly away from me. The last year of The Syndicate Academy and then I’m free from him forever.
I sigh, allowing that thought to calm me as I walk through the vast ornate oak doors that pave the way into the academy. It doesn’t help that Giorgia’s family pulled her out last year. We were close, and it’s not the same being here without her. She always had my back. At least I still have Camilla and Adrianna, but there’s a hole she left in our group.
Everyone is gathered in the main hall, as chatter carries through the cold stone corridors from that direction. I clench my jaw, as this is the moment I hate the most of the first day, entering that fucking hall, especially if Elias gets in there first and decides to torment me. As I’m about to step inside, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder and yanks me backward.
“What the—”
I stop speaking when I see Elias towering over me, piercing blue eyes as cold as ice. He’s the most painfully handsome guy at this academy, but he’s rotten to the core. My heart thuds unevenly in my chest, making me hate the way his mere presence has such power over me.
I fear him and I wish I didn’t. It’s like anytime he looks at me, I’m transported back tohisfirst day, when I was twelve years old, but he’s a year older because he came from Mexico to America late and was behind in his studies. That was the day that turned my entire life at the academy upside down in the blink of an eye.
Before he arrived, I was popular and well liked. Once he set his eyes on me and decided that he hated me for no reason what so ever, I became an outcast. Elias walked in here like he owned the place and claimed the crown in two seconds flat, before turning me into a fucking pariah.
“Not so fast, Gurin.”
I wet my too dry lips and stand taller, trying to mask my fear.
His smirk widens. “I’ve got something important I need to discuss with you.”
“What?” I snap, shrugging his hand off on my shoulder. “I’m late and so are you.”
He leans closer to me, the masculine scent of him invading my space. “You’re going to want to hear me out, trust me.”
I sneer at that. “I think trusting you is the last thing that’ll ever happen.”
He grabs my wrist and yanks me down the corridor, away from the main hall.
I struggle to keep up with him, almost tripping over my own feet. “Where are you taking me?”
“Shut it, Gurin,” he growls, coming to a stop outside of an empty classroom. “Inside.”
I stare warily at the classroom, wondering if he intends to trick me like he did in ninth grade. “I’m not a fucking idiot. I remember the last time you thrust me into an empty classroom.”
His eyes flash and he pushes me inside, stepping in with me. He turns the lock on the door and then spins to face me, a cruel smirk splitting his beautiful face in two. It’s hard to comprehend how a man so beautiful on the outside could be so rotten inside. “I did a lot of digging over the summer, Natalya,” he says, walking closer to me. “And I stumbled on some rather valuable information.”
My brow furrows, as this isn’t where I expected the conversation to go. “What kind of information?”
“Information that could ruin everything your father built here in North America.” He places a hand in his pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper, unfolding it. “It appears daddy dearest was a bit naughty back in Moscow, wasn’t he?”
It feels like my throat constricts as I stare blankly at the paper, wondering what kind of evidence he has. My mother and father’s love story was never a traditional one, and it was one we were always taught to keep secret. It was fraught with betrayal and danger. He kidnapped my mother from a powerful enemy in Moscow, intending to use her as leverage, but fell in love with her. After that, they fled the country and took on new identities here in America.
“Does Morozov mean anything to you?” he asks, advancing slowly toward me, backing me toward the wall.
I swallow hard. “No, should it?”
“Liar,” he snarls, thrusting the paper into my chest. “Your daddy’s name was Valery Morozov, not Gurin.”
It feels like my world spins, as I know what power this information gives him over me and my family.
He smirks. “And your mom’s maiden name is Lebedev.”
I shake my head. “How did you…” I look down at the papers, shifting through them. Elias has everything. Their original Russian birth certificates and copies of their passports from before they took on new identities, as well as Russian news articles about my mother’s so called kidnap.
He tilts his head. “I have all the information I need to take your entire family down.”