What the hell was going on?
“It saddens us that it took so long for this footage to find its way into our hands.” The official spoke again without warning, everyone jolting their attention back to her. “We want all of our students to know that they can come to us.” She emphasised it as though she had already spoken it a dozen times and was frustrated that nobody was listening. “If you have something to report …” The woman motioned to the wall behind her, reminding everyone of what they had watched. “Then you know where to find us. We would like to assure you that confidentiality is absolutely key.”
“That’s one way of delivering an invitation,” Moses grumbled from behind her. He was standing surprisingly close. She could feel the heat from his body, his words stirring against the back of her head. She wasn’t sure when he had last stood so close to her. On purpose.
The others were also shifting closer—not just to her, but to each other, forming a tight circle with her and Kilian in the centre, Theodore to the right, Cian slightly in front of everyone, and Niko to the left. Their bodies were tense. Theodore and Niko’s expressions tight and wary. Oscar was somewhere behind her—she could smell his strong oleander scent rolling over the fragrances of the other Alphas like a cloud of smoke, muddying them all up. The sensation was unsettling. It smelled like a forest set on fire, with tinges of Niko’s whiskey turning into gasoline and Cian’s sunshine smouldering far too hotly.
“Invitation?” Isobel whispered, barely daring to move her lips as she turned her head, too focussed on the woman to look all the way back at Moses.
The official was staring out over the sea of gathered students, her brows raised in expectation. When she found Isobel tucked behind Cian, she paused, repeating, “You know where to find us,” before clicking her fingers at the other officials to follow her as she stalked from the room.
“Wait … that’s it?” Isobel stared after the woman. “She … she didn’t even say where to find them.”
Theodore, who had been leaning up against the side of the booth to her right—his shoes touching hers, his arms crossed—curled closer, his lips by her ear. He even raised his hand to block the cameras from reading his lips. “The Track Team told you to find out where the club was. You found out. This is them summoning you. You know where to find them, and confidentiality is absolutely key.”
She snapped her mouth shut, unable to properly reply in the busy dining hall. The other students had broken out into a confused mass of whispers, one of them calling after the official.
“What about Crowe?” The shout was a little too loud, and Isobel craned her neck to peer around Oscar to see who had spoken.
A second-year Beta. One of Crowe’s friends … or was she? It seemed like Bellamy’s fan club of Betas were trying to distance themselves from Crowe.
The official paused in the doorway to the hall, turning to look back at the Beta. “Alaric Crowe—along with others—have been questioned in relation to this incident. All students must be cautious not to start baseless rumours, as this is a form of harassment in itself. The person in the video will be found and dealt with by the academy board.”
Theodore scoffed quietly, and it seemed like not even the Beta girl could find the words to respond, her fists clenched by her sides as the officials left the hall in a swift clicking of heels and tapping of business shoes.
Isobel didn’t move, and neither did the Alphas. They waited, watching and listening, for something else to happen. Finally, Theodore slid back into the booth, pulling Isobel in beside him. The rest of them filed back in and all the plates were rearranged as they settled into new positions.
“Should we do an end-of-year party?” Theodore asked casually, acting like nothing at all had happened as he violently shoved a buckwheat and muesli pancake off his plate to get to the fluffy Japanese pancake beneath it, which was beginning to cave in from the dolloped cream and sliced strawberries he had piled into the centre of it. Apparently, he was having a treat day.
“Obviously,” Niko said, at the same time as Moses said, “No.”
“It should be Consolidation Day themed like last year,” Cian added, though he didn’t look particularly excited by the prospect. “We can hang the Gifted-American flag all over the place, and have a red, white, and blue cake.”
“Or we could just chill,” Moses muttered, stabbing up the buckwheat pancake Theodore had abandoned.
“I think Elijah said the officials already offered to sponsor another Dorm A party.”
“Must be nice.” Isobel froze, staring down at her plate. Did she just say that out loud? She glanced up. They were all staring at her. “To have coffee,” she finished lamely. “I forgot to get one.”
“Here.” Theodore shifted his mug her way.
“That’s okay.” Her face was starting to burn. Theodore hated people stealing his food or sharing his utensils. He was almost as bad as Gabriel.
“What dorm are you trying to get into again?” Oscar asked blandly, leaning forward to fix narrowed dark eyes on her. “Correct me if I’m mistaken, but you’ll be prancing through Dorm A in your rich-girl pyjamas next year right alongside the rest of us spoiled Alphas.”
If Oscar had said that to her a year ago, she would have tried to crawl beneath the table and die. She still wanted to slump down and disappear a little bit, but she also knew that the spark of annoyance in his eye was something he only showed to his friends. If he truly thought so little of her, he would have been ignoring her completely.
“I can’t tell if your issue is with me thinking you’re spoiled or if it’s just my pyjamas.” She popped a mouthful of chocolate chip pancake into her mouth.
“It’s definitely the pyjamas,” Cian supplied, leaning back in his seat to chug half a cup of coffee. “He’s as obsessed as Gabriel is with your underwear.”
Moses glanced up from his breakfast, scanning the faces around the table before he blew out a disappointed breath. “Such a waste. Gabriel isn’t here.”
“Where are those two?” Niko didn’t even look up from his food.
“They got held up,” Isobel muttered.
Everyone glanced at her. Even Niko, who stopped eating for half a second to do so.
“Elijah, um …” She glanced nervously around the table, trying to find the right words in front of the camera. “He overdid it in dance practice. Surged his movements too much.”
Theodore’s brows knit together. “Surged his movements?”
“Uh, yeah, I mean he overextended himself.”
They were silent, several of them checking their phones.
“Can’t wait to question him about that later.” Oscar finally spoke, his tone full of dark humour.
Cian sighed, shaking his head. “Any idea why he might have … overextended himself?” he asked Isobel.
“No idea,” she said quickly.