Chapter Seventeen
Alex
It’s rare for the headmaster of the academy to call me into his office. The last time I sat in this stiff, teal upholstered chair was when my father died, the faces in the room expressing all the sympathy and concern in the world. Even now, Headmaster Bates wears a similar countenance, hands folded over the calendar book on his desk.
“Alexandra,” he greets while nodding. “These are dark times indeed. I’m afraid I have some terrible news.”
My heart pounds in my chest as Parker walks into the room. I shoot up from the chair and reach for him. “Who died?”
“Nobody died,” Parker assures. “Please sit down. It’s about Coach Neill.”
An icy chill creeps into my chest as I notice how serious the headmaster appears. I settle back into the chair as Parker sits beside me, wearing a serious expression.
“She’s being held for ransom,” he explains. “Only the top families can afford the amount, so Headmaster Bates turned to us.”
I nod curtly. “I guess a baking sale won’t do, huh?”
“Alex, this is serious,” the headmaster states. “We need your utmost discretion in this matter. It can’t get out that a staff member has been kidnapped. Can you imagine the press?” He sighs with exasperation while running a hand over his balding head. When he closes his eyes, he whispers, “We just need you and the other main families to gather what you can for the ransom.”
“The amount?”
Parker looks pensive as he responds, “A billion.”
I hum. “I see.”
“She’s clearly worth a lot to someone,” the headmaster comments. And I don’t need to look at him to know he’s talking about me. “But I’ll let you sort it out for yourselves.”
“Where’s the note?” I ask. “There must be a letter of some kind that we can trace or—”
“It was a phone call,” Parker says. “We can’t trace it. They’ll call if they want anything else.”
Shrugging is all I can seem to do. “Fantastic. Great.” I stand up and address the headmaster directly, “Thanks for bringing this to our attention.”
“Alex, if there’s anything I can do—”
“Nothing,” I snap. “I’ll handle this with my associates.”
When I march out of the room, I feel a mixed bag of emotions weighing on my shoulders. It’s relief as much as it’s concern and fear. I’m glad to know she’s alive, but it’s a damaging knowledge, the kind that I know will keep me awake at night if I’m not mindful of how much I’m thinking about it.
“Alex.”
I brush off Parker, marching down the hallway to the auditorium. I don’t stop until I’m behind the curtains with the shadows crowding around me. It’s the only place I can seem to think these days. And since nowhere is safe—or even private anymore—I might as well return to old haunts.
Which means people will be able to follow me.
“Alexandra,” Parker says while grabbing my shoulder. “Stop.”
I shake him off. “No.”
“You can’t let this get to you.”
“How can I not?”
His eyes retain something like sympathy for a moment. It’s weird to see such a thing in his gaze, to even attempt to think that he’s capable of such a thing. Why is it alarming and comforting at the same time?
“Our focus is on the Persian,” he states, “not saving the fencing coach.”
I freeze in place. “You weren’t even considering paying the ransom, were you?”