Page 55 of Ruin Me
“The head of the student body. Fancy themselves as hardcore,” Thayer interjects with a wave of his hand, dismissing them.
Callum stands, his posture rigid, the weight of his family legacy and responsibility clear in his stance. “We need to move on this information. If we’re right, this could be a huge takedown.”
“Agreed,” Harrison says, his analytical mind already turning over scenarios. “But we need to consider the risks.”
“Do we think it’s the Vipers?” I ask tentatively, not really looking for another rumble with them.
“Maybe—” Harry starts, but Quen cuts him off.
“Probably. You ready for that, baby girl?”
“Yeah,” I say, hoping it came out like I mean it. “Although, what good am I? I can’t fight, I can’t use a weapon.”
“You see things no one else does,” Harry says. “You can be look-out.”
Beaming at him that I’ve been given an important job that doesn’t include me making a fool of myself or getting myself killed, I nod. “I can do that. Whateverwe do, though, we can’t let this chance slip. This has to be dealt with by us.”
“What about Alex?” Thayer asks, his usual lack of emotion in his tone making it hard to figure out what he’s thinking.
“If Alex thought he could handle it, I highly doubt he would’ve given the information to us.”
“Unless it’s a trap.”
All eyes land on Callum. “Thanks for that,” I murmur.
He chuckles. “We’ll handle it, no matter what it is.”
Nods of agreement follow, and a silent pact forms between us. We’re ready to step into the shit, aware that the decisions we make could change everything at Crestmont University.
I watch Callum, his eyes like steel traps set for the unwary, as he lays out the plan to take down the traitor. Quentin stands beside him, silent and brooding, his mind working over every angle of our approach. They’re both ready, born for this kind of conflict, while my own heart races with fear.
“Harrow’s last class ends in fifteen minutes,” Callum states. “So, we follow him. If he was talking to his contact this morning, there will likely be a hand off of some kind later.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It’s how shit works. He is a lone wolf on campus, and lone wolves are dangerous. They need reigning in by the alphas.”
“Okay.” I nod, taking that in, even though I’m not really sure what he means.
“Time to move out.” Callum’s voice cuts through the charged atmosphere. We all nod and exit the penthouse, stepping out into the unknown.
You’ve got this, Vogue. Unknown is familiar. You are good on your feet and can adapt when you need to.
My little pep talk boosts my confidence a little as we slide into the black van still parked up outside after the other night’s rescue. It brings back memories of fear, being chained up with no way out, but now isn’t the time to think about that.
But even as I shove it aside, another thought worms its way into my brain. My father. Aaron McGowan. A ghost from a past I never knew, yet whose legacy now clings to me, heavy and unshakeable. I’ve spent years not knowing him, not wanting to know him, but everything has changed. The secrets unearthed today prove that nothing can stay buried forever.
I need to confront him, but that’s a fucked-up mess for another day.
As we drive, the guys talk in low tones, strategies weaving in and out with the ease of those who’ve played this game their whole lives. I listen, trying to piece together my role in all this chaos. Feeling like an outsider and yet right in the thick of it.
The van slows to a crawl as we near the economics building, where Harrow’s class is letting out. Students spill from the doors and fan out across the campus.We wait with bated breath for one in particular to emerge.
“There.” Quentin points. Harrow steps out, his eyes darting around nervously, a sure sign he’s about to do something shady as fuck.
We watch as he slides into his old sedan and drives off too quickly. Keeping our distance, Callum manoeuvres in behind him, steady as hell despite the tension crackling in the air. My heart hammers against my ribcage, a relentless drumbeat echoing the danger we’re creeping into.
We follow Harrow through a tangled web of streets, away from Crestmont University’s polished exterior and deeper into a side of town that looks like it belongs in Westfield. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t get a second glance from the police unless they’re looking to score something themselves.
