“Fine. Let us just drop Cora off—”
Mr. Tyson shook his head. “No. Nathaniel wants to see her too. She’s involved, and obviously if you didn’t want her involved in this shit, you wouldn’t have let her watch you beat the shit out of one of Luke’s boys. We go. Now.”
The boys all tensed at Mr. Tyson’s command. He’d never spoken to them like that. Never told them what to do. The fact that he could now, and with such unflinching confidence, was almost more unnerving than the request itself.
He held power. Power that he shouldn’t have.
We couldn’t back out of it, and we all knew it.
Without another word, Bishop dipped his head in a single nod. Not even bothering to go back into the school, he led us around the side of the building to where his convertible was parked in the usual spot in the parking lot.
Mr. Tyson followed close behind us, his mere presence almost as potent as a gun to our heads. Even if Bishop had the thought to run instead of going to Nathaniel’s, Tyson wouldn’t be far behind. I wasn’t sure what lengths he would go to if he had to chase us, but I wasn’t eager to find out either.
Besides, there was nowhere to run.
When Bishop reached his car, I felt Mr. Tyson’s hand on my elbow. I jumped, my entire body going rigid with fear. But his touch wasn’t like Flint’s. It wasn’t even hard or violent. It was steady and calm, just like the man himself.
“She rides with me,” he said softly.
Kace’s shoulders seemed to swell, and for a moment, I was terrified that he’d lay Mr. Tyson out right here. But Bish put up a hand, holding him back, his hazel gaze hard on the man standing next to me.
“Not without one of us, she doesn’t.”
Mr. Tyson nodded, a slight smile passing over his lips as if he’d expected this too. “Fair.”
Kace stepped forward immediately, and although he still looked like he wanted to beat Mr. Tyson into a bloody pulp, all he did was wrap his arm around me, pulling me protectively against his body.
The teacher glanced at the two of us, his assessing gaze taking in the way Kace touched me, the look on the blond boy’s face. Then he nodded, gesturing across the lot.
“I parked over there.” He looked back to Bishop. “I’ll follow you. You know where we’re headed. Nathaniel’s house.”
Bish nodded, and the five of us split up, heading to our separate cars.
The ride was quiet and tense. Kace sat in the front next to Mr. Tyson, and I sat alone in the back seat. I wished for the comfort of Kace’s solid, large body beside mine, but I knew he wanted to be closer to the older man in case any shit went down and he needed to fight him or wrestle for control of the car.
We didn’t speak. I could barely breathe.
In the silence, my mind wondered to what would happen once we got to Nathaniel’s.
How much had Tyson heard? How much did he know?
Would the boys be punished for what’d happened to Flint? If so, how bad would that punishment be?
Guilt clawed at my stomach, a brutal beast. But I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t turn it off or drive it away. This was all my fault. I was the reason the boys had even put themselves in a position to kill that disgusting man. Without my choices, they wouldn’t be in this situation.
The awe that I had felt when I’d first seen Nathaniel’s house was replaced by an oppressive trepidation as we pulled up the drive to the red-brick mansion. Both cars came to a stop, and we all piled out. When we got to the main entrance, Mr. Tyson rang the bell, and the same butler from last time answered the door.
“Mr. Tyson.” The silver-haired man gave a deferential nod. “Mr. Ward is waiting for you.”
The familiarity and respect in the butler’s voice caught my attention, and I wasn’t the only one. Before we could step inside, Bishop moved forward, putting himself between me and Mr. Tyson.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
The man looked steadily at Bishop, unaffected. “I’ll leave that up to Nathaniel to explain if he sees fit. Just know he doesn’t want any trouble from you.”
“Don’t see why he thinks there would be. We’re here, aren’t we?”
Mr. Tyson shrugged and nodded forward. “Go on then. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”