Page 20 of Vicious Butterfly
Kane’s in no rush, his chair sliding against the wooden floor, standing slowly, his demeanor fixed on Major Carter. He makes a show of fixing his tie and then spinning the chair around.
“Come with me,” Major Carter says.
“Oh, c’mon. I did what you said,” Kane says.
“Now, cadet.”
He turns, expecting to be followed. Kane makes a dick-sucking motion with his fist, poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek, smirking.
“He wouldn’t actually … would he?” Gideon says.
“Dunno,” Becks says.
Torin twirls his finger by his temple. “Love the dude, but he’s got more than a few screws loose. I say he would.”
I say so, too, but I keep that to myself. I don’t want to think about what Kane’s been through to make him like how he is. He acts like a crazy fucker, but I see him. His crazy keeps the demons at bay.
“But he has a point,” Gideon says. “I wanna do it.”
“Not you, too. I was counting on you, Gid.” I sigh.
“Then let us,” Torin says.
“No. It would be the stupidest fucking thing we’ve ever done. Besides, the games are on the weekends. We already play hockey on the weekends.”
“The way we practice is like playing two games in a row anyway. Another team couldn’t handle it, but we can,” Gideon says. “Besides, we’d start before the season opener at Shadowridge and get two games in. That’s just three games extra we could fit in during downtime.”
I check on Becks to see what he has to say. It’s nothing. He’s still lying in wait, as if it’s not a matter of if I’ll say yes, but when. “Alright, let’s hear the logistics, Beckett.”
“Some games we’ll play when we’re away, but for the first one, this Saturday, I have an arrangement,” he says.
I shake my head. “Sounds too complicated. We’ll be caught, and this’ll come down on me.”
“But—” Gideon starts.
“Leave him alone, guys,” Becks says. “He’ll come around.”
“I won’t,” I say, shoveling more food into my mouth to prevent me from saying anything else. Things like,Maybe.Things like,Well, one game couldn’t hurt. I’ve got this whole Griffon thing to deal with. I can’t get involved with any risky shit.
By the time my long-ass day fucking ends—classes, then a bunch of army-related drills and shit—I get to see my brother. He’s been moved from med bay to the room he’s sharing with Gideon’s younger brother, Wren, but Wren’s not here.
I don’t know what I expect to see, but Griff casually working on his laptop ain’t it. I cornered Scout and Wren at lunch, so they could tell me what the fuck happened. Rib contusion. He took a nasty fall during a training drill.
“Griff?” I say, knocking on his open door.
He turns quickly, forgetting about his injury, wincing when what I’m sure is a fucking painful stab hits him.
“Stop, I’ll come to you.”
But he slides out from the desk anyway and stands up, stiffly. I take a moment to look him over. I already miss his copper hair. It gave him that Griffon softness I’m always fighting to protect. His buzzed head gives him the harder look he’ll need for this place, and he wears the school uniform well—navy trousers with a gold stripe up the side, a long-sleeved button-up, and a navy tie. His uniform jacket hangs over his desk chair.
Griffon’s knuckles are taped, and I pull in a sharp breath when I get a clearer view of his face. Black eye, blood crusted over a cut that was from a ring. I know that ring. It was the same one I got treated to a few times in my plebe year. Captain Jarvis.
My heart races, blood seething with rage. I’m going to fucking kill Captain Jarvis if it’s the last thing I do.
“Ry—Ryan…” Griff’s raspy voice says. I haven’t heard my name from him since our mother died. It should make my insides sing. Instead, they run cold. They made him talk, didn’t they?
“Hey, shhhh. You don’t have to say a thing unless you want to, Griff.”
