Page 44 of Wicked Knight
The truth is a part of me does hate her. But it’s not for the reasons he’d believe.
I hate that she can’t remember the things I wish she could. That she can’t remember parts of me, parts of us, parts of the truth about what Tommy did or didn’t do to her.
The hateful side of me is the side I need to work with when it comes to my father.
Aleksander Ivanov takes the stand, and silence descends on the room. It’s not the reverent sort of silence you expect from people who respect a person. It’s more out of fear for a man we consider a dictator.
As I stare at him and take in that mean-streaked look entrenched on his face, I wonder how many he had to kill to secure his position. How many did he kill to keep the secrets he has now?
It wouldn’t have just been me who noticed he’s not quite right. I’ve seen Kade and the guys looking at him, too, but we’re all so diligent and loyal we won’t even mention it to each other.
But that diligence and loyalty isn’t to Aleksander. It’s to ourselves. To protect our future and our secrets. Neither of us wants anything to mess with our lives, least of all him, the leader of the Knights.
It makes me wonder what I’d do to protect my own secrets. How far I’d go.
I have six months with Mackenzie, but I already know it won’t be long enough.
“Excellentiam contende inomni tempore, in omnibus locis, et in omnibus quæ agis,”Aleksander begins in Latin, reminding us of the college motto, which translates to ‘Strive for excellence at all times, in all places, and in all that you do.’
“We’ve had one hell of a year with an assortment of accomplishments,” he continues. “This yea,r I want to be better than we were before.”
He’s off to a good start. He goes on to hash out his expectations, speaking fervently about our goals and greatness as we still outshine any Ivy League college.
He talks about football, basketball, swimming, and some of the other sports that make us renowned before he introduces my father as the new Lord Chancellor.
The students clap, welcoming my father onto the stage. I clap, too, to blend in, but I feel no allegiance.
I’m sure Mackenzie is doing the same thing.
When he begins his speech, I zone out and stare at the oil painting covering the wall behind him, depicting angels and demons in a deadly battle above the college campus.
I’ve always thought that painting depicted the people in charge here beautifully.
The artist captured the emotion behind the gothic architecture and monuments at Raventhorn of the forefathers and Viking gods dotted around the campus. But they also infused the painting with the desire for power, death, and the consequences of defiance.
I risk one more look at the girl who shouldn’t be on my mind, and I wonder what my punishment will be if our game of secrets is discovered.
Whatever it is, she’ll be worth it.
Now that I’ve tasted her.
No one is going to stop me from making her mine in all ways I want.
The sun beats down mercilessly on the field, the air thick with the scents of sweat, damp grass, and ambition.
The whistle shrieks, splitting the air like a gunshot. I plant my cleats into the turf, bending my knees and squaring my shoulders, my focus locked on the offensive line.
Every muscle in my body coils, ready to explode.
“Eyes up, boys! Move, you bunch of pussies! MOVE!” Coach Barrett’s voice booms from the sideline, his bark sharper than the whistle.
We move, and I run like the wind is attached to my feet. Peterman has the ball.
I need to get it to Kade.
Coach Barrett’s words were meant for everyone, but it feels like they’re aimed at me, drilling into my head like the pressure I thrive on.
The son of a bitch is also looking right at me with that sneer on his face. It’s because I missed the ball earlier.