Page 11 of The Revenge
Saying I have the attention span of a gnat is quite generous, especially when it comes to some of the things Syn says, but not this time.
“You said you thought the murder was orchestrated by the XXXVII, andIpointed out that meant you were essentially accusing your father of, at the very least, conspiring to kill his son.ThenI asked what the motives would be, and you didn’t give me any.” I shrug. “And considering that, even by my standards, that all sounds pretty crazy, I figured you were just venting shit.”
With his free hand, Syn rubs his face as he seems to deflate onto my bed. “I did. But the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense. My father was angry that she came here. He wanted her gone—not dead. When he found out Reynolds had confessed to JP’s murder, he was determined to get the death penalty in a state which doesn’t even have it.”
“So Daddy Keyinghamdoesn’tknow anything about JP’s murder?” I ask.
Syn shoots me a dark look. “Don’t youevercall my father daddy again.”
Does that mean I can call Syn daddy?
“Whatever you’re thinking, put a stop to it.” Syn practically growls at me. “Because I know damn well your mind is running to places it shouldn’t. No, I don’t think my father knows anything about JP’s murder. But I also don’t believe Salaway would just take it upon himself to try to kill someone—for me—without trying to get some kind of acknowledgement from me. He’s a tool for someone. That someone could be anyone.”
“It could be, but realistically, to have the ability to get Salaway to carry out the act, then only someone in the XXXVII would have that reach. And, if we’re seriously saying that’s an actual possibility, then they won’t be happy when they find out Tori’s still alive.” Royal points out. “They’ll want us to cleanthings up. I don’t care how much it pisses you off, but I can’t do that. Not her.”
If the XXXVII give orders, you follow.
“That depends on who wants her dead,” Syn responds.
Pursing my lips, I tap the crop against my thigh. “Who do you think that is? And why?”
“Who has motive?” Syn asks.
I raise the crop and point it at him.
Syn rolls his eyes. “Aside from me—and aside from my father. My guess is du Pont.”
“Why the fuck would Preston du Ponce want her dead?”
“Because if someone killed one of my best friends, I’d want the revenge too.” Syn narrows his eyes as he looks at me, his arm tugging the cuff against the bed post. “Or, in your case, I’d give them an island as a thank you.”
I clutch at my chest. “Harsh.”
“Are we saying Preston did this with or without the XXXVII’s knowledge?” Royal asks, ignoring the completely unnecessary insult that Syn gave me.
“We all know that the XXXVII want me to walk into the White House. If they wanted her dead, it wouldn’t have happened in this House—not while I’m living in it. There might not be evidence, but the gossip would fly about my feelings for her. Some things could be brushed under the carpet, but this would be something that could tarnish my reputation in the future.”
Syn tries to pace... He doesn’t get very far.
“You think Poncy went rogue?” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m surprised he cares enough.”
“I agree,” Royal says, slowly. He frowns. “But I also agree with Syn: Salaway acting on his own accord doesn’t fit. If there is someone else, it does make sense that the only one with a levelof reach to achieve this is associated with the XXXVII. But this doesn’t help Tori. If someone wants her dead, they’ll try again.”
“You’re assuming they’re the ones hunting her,” Syn says slowly. “If the XXXVII were behind this, why has no one called us? We went to the police with Salaway, so they’d know.”
Royal cocks his head. “You’re saying we wait for them to call?”
“I say, we act like the British,” I declare.
“And what? Make a cup of tea?” Royal grabs a pillow and launches it at me.
I punch it away. “Instead of hunting foxes, they chase a scent.”
Syn looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, gently shaking his head, but Royal straightens his back. “You mean, hide her somewhere? Even if we could get her off campus, what happens when the XXXVII ask you where she is?” Royal asks me. “Even you will tell, and if you don’t, you’re not good enough to make her disappear by yourself.”
While I’d give it a go, Royal’s right. The XXXVII have more resources available than I could dream of.
“If she leaves here, they might not want us to do it. And if she’s not here, maybe she’ll let things go, and the XXXVII will consider the matter handled.”
