Page 47 of Alamort

Facing him, I give him my undivided attention. His appearance is haggard and drained. Guilt eats at my conscience, at pushing him too hard for more than he’s ready to give. We don’t know what could trigger him to become dormant, leaving us with Malice for who knows how long. He might be helping, but what is it going to cost him? Saint wouldn’t come to us unless he really thought the information he had would be beneficial.

“You know how we couldn’t really find much on her phone? No one has reached out to her since her arrival at Cox.” I gesture for him to continue. “Well, like I said. We couldn’t find anything. We were waiting. So, I decided to go back. Back before the incident and reread old messages. I started with her fathers. The only text she’s received from him that wasn’t a one-word response was something about her grades.” He rubs the back of his neck. “There was some sort of threat there. But nothing to reveal exactly what it was.”

“You think her father made her burn the library down at the academy?” Bennett ponders.

Saint’s head tilts, and he plays with his black lip piercings, something he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Not, exactly. No. I think Robert Carter is a little more messed up in the head than just politics.”

Abuse? I want to ask, but he seems unsure of the answer already. He’ll continue to beat around the bush if he doesn’t have a definite answer.

“The point is, whatever threat was there is directly connected to her grades. I think that’s where we should hit next.”

Tilting my head, “That’s perfect. We’re partners in psych. I’ll put something in place to make her fail. It’ll get a reaction from Robert and possibly a confession.”

Saint stands ready to go back to his room. “I’m working on one more thing. I have a theory, but I need a little more time to research it before we can use it.”

Perfect, everything is finally coming together. Let’s see what makes our pet tick.

Mrs. Warren has a reputation for being quite solemn. She reminds me of the social worker that was on me and Bennett’s case after our mom died. No room for nonsense, a very straightforward woman. Told us we were more than likely to be separated, giving us no time to grieve our mother while losing each other.

Mrs. Warren’s crow's feet tell a story of a life filled with smiles, though their presence has diminished over time. Cox Academy has drained her spirit, like it does to everyone. Elijah had different intentions when he saved this place from ruin. He was determined to offer teenagers a fresh start and a chance to make positive changes in their lives. A means to break free from home and the burdens that are tied to money, allowing us to simply enjoy our youth.

With Elijah grieving for his son, he’s been MIA from the school. Everyone grieves differently, and for him, his way of coping is to avoid places that remind him of Tyson. No onecan blame him. The happiness that Ty brought with him is irreplaceable.

This woman is the only one who is not desperately trying to suck Bennett’s dick. The reason for that is her joyful marriage to her wife, Lauren, of nine years. She is the most competent out of all the teachers’ here.

The sound of her heels clicking on the other side of the door pulls me out of my musing. Abruptly ceasing when she unlocks the classroom. One of her brows raise, the only sign that she’s surprised to see me. Her outfit exudes sophistication, a charcoal grey pencil skirt, and a blouse crafted with the finest silk. Her wardrobe consists mainly of a pencil skirt suit, the classic attire often seen on women in corporate settings. She looks every part of the word “professional”.

The empty room amplifies the sound of her heels as she sets her glossy black briefcase on her desk in front of me. The classroom arrangement mimics a college like setting, featuring a series of desks that gradually rise, resembling steps. However, the only exit is the entrance. Relaxing back in her chair like we’re old friends and this isn’t our first interaction.

“Mr. Demonio, to what do I owe this pleasure of yourself in my seat? Have I warranted your wrath?” The air is thick with her mocking tone, fueling the anger within me that strains to break free. She is not to blame for this. Keeping the same indifference I always wear.

“I think we may be able to help each other, Mrs. Warren.” She doesn’t look at me, instead reading today’s lesson. When she leans over to arrange her computer, the scent of maple drifting in the air. She’s pretending that my appearance hasn’t unsettled her, but I can see through her act.

“And what could possibly give you that idea?”

“I need you to fail Priya Carter. Mark this upcoming assignment as a zero.” It sounds like I’m casually inquiringabout her career in the field, rather than unjustly failing a student. She stands there for a few seconds staring at her computer screen, unblinking, trying to process my request.

“Why would I fail Miss Carter? She’s an excellent student. Her work is almost always one hundred percent in my class. It’s common for her to complete her assignments early, sometimes by several days. She participates and is more knowledgeable than half of my students.”

What I am hearing is “no”. That answer doesn’t have a place in this conversation, nor in my vocabulary. Fortunately, I hold a high regard for her as a teacher. It took Saint longer than usual to find something I could use to get her to consider my offer. There are some minor things from her teenage years, but as a woman of 40, she’s clean. At the end of the day, everyone has a price.

“How’s Lauren?” Her hands freeze on the keyboard.

Composing herself, she clears her throat and shifts her weight from side to side. “Are you threatening me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then what are you implying, Mr. Demonio?”

“I know about her diagnosis. Cancer, stage 3?” It’s rhetorical. She purses her lips and nods, subtly avoiding eye contact.

“What if I told you I could get her into one of the best treatments? A trial treatment that’s been promising. Dr. Kahn’s.”

“I would know you’re lying. I’ve pulled every string and called in every favor I have to get my wife into that treatment.” The tension in her body reveals her anger.

“Dr. Kahn owes me a favor.” Leaving it vague, it doesn’t matter to her or her wife the schematics, only that she’s accepted with a chance of surviving a silent killer.

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