Chapter Ten

Kieran

If Wren bounced that fucking ball off the wall one more time, I was going to put my foot up his ass. I caught the ball and glared at him. "We still don't know who he is." Our conversation turned to Tomás. "Has anyone even found his obol?"

We all got coins upon arrival with our DNA imprint on it. If we turned up dead outside campus grounds, the obol would serve as warning to the cops to stay out of it. It also served as identification to the underworld. I had used my obol to gain entry into exclusive clubs, weapons cache, and even access to intel throughout the world I wouldn't have had otherwise. The obol carried our family's sigil. I looked for Tomás's but so far came up empty.

"He probably lost it," Wren said.

"We know he's not one of the four. All of the DNA samples against ours came back negative," Henry confirmed.

Thank fuck. Whoever he was, he wasn't blood family. "So why did Casera put him here?"

"This close to the takeover, I don't like it," Fox said. He'd been edgy since he found Tomás and Dasher together—the reason I couldn't trust his judgement on this. Just being Dasher's friend had earned Tomás a bullet to the head in Fox's eyes.

"What do we know about him?" I asked. I worked better with facts, not feelings.

"Facial recognition turned up nothing. Either he's clean, never had a social profile in his life, or it's been wiped."

"If it's been wiped, then he has to be an A-Lister," River added.

"What else do we know?"

"Other than he's an idiot?" Fox said, giving me the look he reserved for when he wanted to force a rise out of me. The fucker didn't know how close he was to a fist against his perfect face.

"He came during the summer and did prep work with Burns," Henry said. "I got his academic record. He scored just below average in language skills which explains his tutoring with Dasher, but he's a little above average in math. Met high school graduation requirements and was accepted into the university for the fall. First year."

I clenched my fists.

"He sounds like a thug," Wren chimed in. "Yo' whatchu mean?" he added with a horrible Tony Montana accent.

"You're an idiot," I deadpanned.

"He hangs around with that pothead dealer, Jack. There's nothing interesting on him, except he's sponsored here by Eagle Corp, a youth foundation led by none other than Maddox Brennan. Jack's one of the normies here on a scholarship."

Normies were students with no blood ties to dons. They were either children of lower ranks, often orphaned, who were sponsored by one of the four or students that needed asylum and came from powerful, corrupt families. Dasher fell into this category. And if Jack was sponsored by Eagle Corp, then it was safe to assume he fell into the former category.

"Tomás is too old to have been claimed in the first place," Fox said. "We were all still in elementary school when they came for us."

True.

"We could ask Dasher," Henry suggested. That earned him a glare from Fox. Henry shrugged. "He knows him better than anyone else."

Fox got to his feet and walked out.

Wren shook his head, running the small crucifix he always wore around his neck back and forth across his chin now that he didn't have the ball. "That guy has got to let it go. No one blames him."

No, but Fox blamed himself.

I pulled back into the current problem. Tomás. "We know our files aren't in the cloud. We're too much a risk and information can get hacked." I looked at Henry, our hacker.

"It means there's a paper file, but Dr. Casera doesn't keep it here. No one knows where he keeps it," Henry said.

"There's somewhere else records are kept," I said. "When students have to see a regular doctor. Emergency contact can give us a reference point to start digging."

"Tomás sees Dr. Shanahan regularly." Wren smirked, caught the ball again, tossing it to River. "She's hot."

"Don't start the stalking thing again," River threw the ball back with a lot more bite. Wren easily caught it with a laugh. "I swear to God, Wren," River said. "I'm not going to be your wingman this time."

We all knew River would end up being Wren's wingman. Their friendship was beyond reproach and annoying. Sometimes, I wanted to wring their necks. "Let us all remember our plan is in motion. No attention."

"Well, then maybe you should stop stressing about the new guy," Henry said.

There was no judgement in his tone, but it bothered me anyway. I intercepted Wren's ball from hitting the wall and threw it at Henry's head. It bounced off and skittered out of reach. Henry rubbed his forehead with a hurt look on his face. "It's only a stress ball," I defended. The guy was sensitive.

"The medical records are stored in a closed network," Henry went on, rubbing his forehead. "The only way to get them would be to use their system."

"How hard can it be to break into a hospital?" River asked.

"Not hard," Henry answered. "But he needs to be in the hospital for us to get access."

Well, hell, that wouldn't be hard. I wouldn't mind putting that little shit in the hospital.

Wren's phone buzzed. "Well, I have to beat. Let me know what you all decide." He lifted his chin to River who rolled his eyes but followed.

Henry shook his head and started out. "Hey," I said to him. He turned back, always so touchy. "You did good."

He pushed his glasses up his nose, nodded, and headed out.

Alone, I pondered the big question mark that was Tomás. The takeover was just a few months away. We were so damn close. Was Tomás here to spy on us and report to the Brennans?

The questions made me too damn tense and I needed an outlet. I'd have to spar with Fox and soon. For now, I had to concentrate on schoolwork. I wasn't a genius like Henry or a smooth talker like Wren who seemed to get out of every D he'd ever had. No one feared me like they did Fox, and River acted like Wren's emissary. A two for one deal. I had to study. Business, accounting, law, were my fields of study. I needed to know everything to takeover and sustain Brennan Holdings. I wanted to ruin my family, not the people who worked there. I'd written a strategy and used it as my thesis. Thanks to Mr. Flanagan, our econ professor, the plan was made solid. I got an A in the class for it, he was so impressed. I'd lost track of time until a ping on my phone reminded me to eat.

Music drifted into the kitchen, and I followed it to the living room. Tomás sat on the bench, his back to me, playing the grand piano we'd never used. His fingers moved across the keys surprisingly fast and confident. His hair was wet, he wore a white t-shirt and basketball shorts. Tanned, smooth long legs bounced under the piano, using the foot pedals. I rarely saw him without one of his sweaters on, so I took a moment to take my fill of him. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow at the waist. He had a body born out of hard work and activity. Not from weight training. He had enough definition in his arms that made him look as if he could hold his own in a fight. His neck was naturally thick and smooth. If he wanted to bulk up, he'd have the perfect frame for it.

He moved flawlessly from classical to an Ed Sheeren song. Then he started to sing. A spark had ignited somewhere at my base and spread throughout the rest of my body, ending in my tingling fingertips. Tomás's voice filled with more emotion than I'd ever felt in my life. Something about that made me feel as if I'd been stabbed a hundred times with tiny darts. Poison filled my veins. My body moved, always moved, toward him.

He stopped playing, lifting his hands just as I dropped the fallboard, missing his fingers.

"Keep it down. I'm studying," I said like an idiot.

I caught him inhale deeply as if trying to rein in his own anger, then he got to his feet and stretched, forcing the thin white cotton of his t-shirt to rise revealing a sliver of tanned skin and a dusting of dark hair below his navel because the fucker had his basketball shorts riding low on his hips. I suddenly wondered if he was wearing underwear and snapped my eyes back to his face.

I hated him. He drew out an instinctual response to wrap my fingers around his thick neck and squeeze until he stopped moving. The intensity of it scared me. I didn't know how much longer I could restrain myself from acting. I wanted him dead, or I wanted something worse. I needed him out. "The guys and I were talking. Perhaps it's time for a truce." The guy was always guarded, but, while his body took that defensive stance, his smile always deflected the threat. It bothered me that I couldn't get a read on him.

He cocked a brow, then snorted. "Okay, I'll take the hit. What are you proposing, exactly?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

What was I proposing? I wanted him out of my life. "I want you to go speak with Casera. Tell him this is not a fit for you and get out of my house." I hadn't intended my voice to go on the threatening level, but no taking that shit back now.

Tomás didn't miss a beat. That smirk made an appearance and I wanted to slam my fist against his face. "Nah, I think I like it here."

"I won't make this request again."

"Okay."

I considered all the ways I could end him and bury him under a tree somewhere.

"Do you play?" he asked.

The question threw me off my game. I knew I must've looked like an idiot. "What?"

"The piano," he said, gesturing to it as if I didn't know what a piano was. "Do you play?"

"No. I don't see the value of hobbies in the arts."

"Music? You don't see the value in music?" His brow lifted, calling out my idiocy.

I was an idiot for having this conversation with him. "Not everyone can create great original music."

"You don't have to. You play because it makes you feel good. Have you ever done anything that makes you feel good, Kieran?"

"What kind of question is that?"

He shrugged, crossing his arms again. "It's just a question, bro."

I clenched my teeth. I wasn't sure what made me move, the cheesy smile on his face, or that word, bro. I hated it. I cupped his throat and squeezed. He didn't move back and instinctively gripped my forearm. For a moment I thought he was going to swing. Give me an outlet to relieve this shit inside of me. He didn't.

My hand on his throat pushed all my defensive strategies to the surface. He had three inches on me, probably ten pounds too, but he was uncoordinated. Always unbalanced. I wanted to sweep him to the floor and pound him with my fists. But his fingers dug into my arm and my body burned from it. I needed to get away from him.

"Don't call me that. I'm not your friend or your brother." I felt his Adam's apple under my hand wobble as he swallowed. The sensation sent my dick inflating and I hated him for it. "Stay away from me." I shoved him away.

He cupped his neck, breathing hard, pupils dilated. His hand twitched. Nerves, fear, or the adrenaline rush of his fight or flight response. I could see him considering his options and I wanted the fight so bad. Instead, he smiled. That smile that reached his beautiful eyes.

"You're the one always picking the fight, Kieran," he said. "Maybe you should stay away from me."

True. I should stay away from him, but I couldn't. Fortunately, he walked away leaving me there with an erection I didn't know what to do with.

I heard his door snick closed and the movement of his chair as he placed it under the knob.

Since he'd been here, he'd been putting a chair under the knob. Not trusting the lock or any of us. Smart. But this house held more secrets than Arcadia as a whole. And when I slipped into my own room and closed the door, I turned on my laptop and saw him lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah, fucker," I muttered. "Think about your options."

Because sooner than later, he wouldn't have any options left.