Page 31 of Pretty Lethal
I shake my head. “No, not that I believe, anyway. He never talked about it, so I have no idea what went down, but I imagine it had to be pretty bad. It’s not as though the rest of my family are saints. Just look at the shit they’re involved in.”
“He probably did something to jeopardize the family’s reputation or some nonsense,” Hawk deduces. “Families like that, it’s all about respect, social status, notoriety—but for the right reasons. Anything that stands in the way of that is a hindrance they won’t tolerate.”
Whatever. It is what it is. “What are you going to do about the party?” I ask, getting us back on topic.
Hawk smirks. “I was thinking it was time the Davenports represented themselves at one of these shindigs.”
“Just keep a low profile,” Kai insists, staring sternly at both of us. “Ears to the ground and eyes open, and for the love of god, don’t get caught somewhere you shouldn’t be.” He glances back and forth between us. “This is bigger than us, bigger even than just your family”—he directs at me—“This is an entire movement. They’ll do whatever they have to to further their cause, and they won’t give a damn who they have to step on to achieve their goals.”
I swallow around the lump of emotion lodged in my throat as Hawk nods solemnly.
“You also need to get whatever proof Robbie wants on this girl,” Hawk points out as boulders begin to pile on top of one another in my stomach. “Do you have any idea what they want from her?”
I shake my head. “Robbie wouldn’t give me any info.”
“They’ll probably use the information Wilder hands over to blackmail her family or move whatever chess piece they need to advance forward.” Kai deduces, glancing first at Hawk then at me. “As much as I hate saying it, our focus has to be on keeping ourselves and Emilia safe.”
“Our family comes first.” Both Hawk and Kai look at me, before they nod.
“Our family comes first,” Hawk agrees with surety.
Chapter9
EMILIA
“Hey, Alice, how are you?” I greet as I lift the mail from my cubby at lunch.
“Hump day blues,” she says with a laugh. “Bring on the weekend, right?”
“Totally,” I agree, flitting through the internal mail in my hand. My fingers brush across thick cardstock, and I pull a familiar-looking white envelope from the middle of the pile.
“Oh, is that the invitation for the Clearwater Christmas party?” Alice asks, pointing toward the envelope in my hand.
I shrug my shoulder, but I’m already pretty certain it is, given Wilder received the same thing just this morning.
“I must have one too,” Alice mutters to herself as she grabs the stack of mail in her cubby and flicks through it until she finds what she’s looking for. “Yup.” She waves a white envelope with her name written across it in perfect penmanship.
“Why are we being invited?” I question.
“The Clearwater family are richer than god. They donate heavily to the English department, so the teaching staff gets invited every year. It’s a bit of a stuffy event, but it’s a good excuse to dust off my one evening dress and get my hair done. Plus, their alcohol is first class. I’ve never tasted Champagne like it. Trust me, you’ll be so disappointed to go back to boxed wine afterward.”
She laughs at her own joke, and I force a smile as I tuck that tidbit of information away to analyze later.
On the plus side, now that I have a formal invitation, Wilder can’t keep me from attending and helping him do some snooping. I know he only wants to protect me, but I’m so fucking done with hiding at home. I want to help him find answers that could help us decide how best to handle the King’s Elite.
I plan on doing my own investigating now that I’m back on campus, but there’s nothing quite like going straight to the source.
So, regardless of the fit Wilder pitches, I amgoingto that party.
Given that the entire department has been invited, it would be strange if I didn’t, right?
After classes are done for the day, Hadley shows me to the on-campus gym where she’s hired a private training room and I have my very first knife-wielding lesson. Admittedly, it’s not quite what I expected. I’d pictured a shooting-range setup and me tossing blades at picture targets. Instead, neither of us even touched a knife, and Hadley focused on my form and footing, getting me to shift my weight in mimicry of the motions until sweat soaked through the gym gear I’d changed into and beaded around my hairline.
Who knew that simply standing differently could be such hard work?
“Awh, did I miss it?” Cam pouts when we step out of the changing rooms an hour later, freshly showered, to find him standing there. I’m guessing he was at swim practice as his hair is still wet from his own shower and he’s carrying a large gym bag over one shoulder. “I wanted to watch.”
“It really wasn’t that exciting,” I tell him as Hadley melts into his side and he wraps his arm around her shoulders.
