Page 98 of A Dead Man's B-Side
Evan. Bow.
The man on the plane.
That was why he sounded so familiar.
I was left reeling, staring blankly at the brick wall, trying to make sense of the situation. If Evan, whoever he is, was on the plane, it wasn’t a coincidence. He must have been there to vet me, assess me.
Did they do that to everyone?
And who is Lu?
LuLuLuLu
I repeated what could only be a nickname in my head, trying to place it.
Hoping that the letters around it would form on their own, a full name.
Luther?
Luis?
Luciano?
Evan. Bow. Evan. Bow. Ev–
That one there is Evander… Barthelow Kingsley.
The memory slipped into place. A puzzle piece right next to the name.
I hadn’t placed his face in memory since the last time I’d seen him, but thinking back now, he didn’t change much from the photo.
But if Evan was Evander Kingsley, that meant Lu had to be none other than Wolf. The nickname made sense.
Le loup.
The wolf in French, my mind offered the translation as if by default.
I gripped my hair.
Cassius knew I was being watched; this entire time, he knew and acted as if he hadn't recognized me?
Why?
Was this all a test? Was this what Thaddeus meant by holding me to a higher scrutiny than the others?
And then, my question was answered.
“He did a number on you, huh?” Cassius laughed, and I wanted to rip my hair out and scream. Because it would be better than the pressure growing behind my eyes. Because I hadn’t felt that pressure in years, and I wasn’t going to let it win over me now.
Not when I had withstood worse.
“He could never do a number on me, but I would rather he didn’t steal from my wallet and trick me into drugging myself.”
Thaddeus almost sounded proud. “He really is something. Isn’t he?”
His flattery only dug further into the pit of self-disgust I was shoving myself into. Thaddeus’s praise did nothing when all this time I was only trying to survive. I was only ever trying to survive. But to them… to them it was all a game.
Ever since I’d met Cassius, my life had gotten worse.
