Page 86 of Disobedient Pawn

“I’m not going with you guys. Thanks for the assist, but I’ll walk from here.”

Ren marched away, and Nash shook his head, mumbling about a fucking pain in his ass. He stomped toward her and lifted a squealing Ren up and over his shoulder.

“Put me down,” Ren growled and smacked Nash’s ass.

“Not a chance, Princess. We didn’t just save your ass from Morrison to have him pick you up again on the side of the road. You’re getting in the truck, and that’s final.” Ren’s hand smacked his ass again. “Keep that up, and I’ll fuck you in the bed of my truck.”

Her hand stopped mid-strike, which I was just as happy about. If anyone was fucking Snowflake, it was me. If I had to fight Nash to make that happen, I would.

“Asshole.” She grumbled and crossed her arms instead.

I smirked. That was my Snowflake.

Nash was right. We needed to figure out who she was and why no one had ever heard about her or her family. It was hard to be a ghost in our world, but she seemed to be more of one than just her white hair and seductive silver eyes. She was a mystery that we needed to figure out for her sake and ours.

NOVEMBER 24 – THURSDAY 2:00 PM

Ren

I ignored the millionth phone call from my father and tried once more to focus on my Spanish assignment. The same sentence ran loops in my brain. I could see the words, but nothing registered. I’d never struggled in a class before, but my mind was scattered.

Despite the brain fog, it was nice to have my room to myself with everyone away for Thanksgiving—another oddity for me. Our Thanksgiving was held in October, so when everyone ran out of class last Friday, saying see you in a week, I needed to ask why.

After the party at Sacred Heart, Vicky had been surprisingly quiet. A quiet Vicky was dangerous. I looked over my shoulder and refused to close my eyes at night more now than when I first arrived.

Ivy and Chantry swore they didn’t know about the bet, but they’d also been extra quiet. A weird tension had settled between us for reasons I couldn’t fathom. I believed them but felt like they were leaving something out. It could just be me. My ability to read people lately was definitely turned upside down.

No matter how many questions the guys asked, I didn’t speak to them the entire ride back to the academy. I also ignored them all week despite being forced to sit beside them in class. Of course, they tried to engage me in conversation and followed me to class like my own personal stalkers, but I didn’t say a word.

Myles and Blake were the worst. Blake kept apologizing and insisting that he’d been part of the bet, but he didn’t mean what he said to Lisa about not being interested. I didn’t get it. The game was over. Give up already. Myles had at least figured out that I didn’t want to talk, but that hadn’t stopped him from sitting at my table during lunch. It also didn’t stop him from following me to another table when I moved until I gave up. He’d also show up at the end of class to walk with me. I was starting to wonder if they were worried about Sheriff Morrison more than they were letting on, and if so, why?

I hated secrets and I was surrounded by them.

I kinda wished I had listened to whatever Morrison wanted to say. It was driving me crazy, and I kept replaying it over and over in my mind. Morrison only told me that I needed to listen to him, I was in danger, and that my father knew best. Of course, I was in some mysterious danger my father had us wrapped up in. My mum’s murder was proof of that. The conversation with Myles about the school and who attended was at the forefront of my mind. Every conversation I overheard I wondered if it was code and found myself googling everyone’s last name. I was the one turning into a bloody stalker.

Who was my father, really? Just some paper pusher at a large corporation was an obvious lie.

My phone rang again, and I growled as I stared at the caller ID.

“Oh my god, take the hint.”

I locked my phone, sending the call to voicemail, only to jump at the sound of someone knocking. Marching for the door, ready to give my father a piece of my mind, I whipped it open. The argument died in my throat as I stared at Dean Henry.

“Ms. Davies, you look like you wanted to say something?”

“No, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Your father, perhaps?”

I crossed my arms.

“Does everyone know my personal business?”

His eyebrow rose, and I wanted to cut out my tongue for snapping back at him. So far, I hadn’t gotten into any trouble with the Dean, but that could change, which wasn’t a path I wanted to travel down.

“If by personal business you mean the car waiting outside to pick you up, then yes.”

Dean Henry folded his hands in front of him, and even though his voice was even and calm, it felt like a scolding.