Page 4 of The Honor Society

One I would brag about if it wasn’t so damn depressing that I didn’t have any other clue how to live except in a web of lies and deceit.

The Dean’s List contained clues and information I needed to take down every single person who’s hurt me or anyone close to me—furthermore, it had information on Charlie’s birth and a few more hints as to Jude’s dad’s involvement. The problem or aka headache? I’m the fucking Proctor.

Which, if any of them found out what that meant or what I was responsible for, well, they probably wouldn’t have felt so bad about Charlie shooting me. Hell, get in line.

People would be wise to avoid me at all costs lest I find out they owe money and send them in for collections or call a bill due.

Charlie is one such person, she just doesn’t know it. Besides, the cost for her? Too high. The cost for those who fed her lies and made her believe them? Even higher. I tried to protect her Axel’s way—now I have to protect not just her but everyone The Proctor’s way.

A soft knock sounds at the door.

I look up and forget to breathe.

She’s so beautiful it hurts. All long dark hair and big brown eyes. She’s curvy in all the right places, has a jawline that I used to kiss down while playing with her hair and moving on to her neck.

I worshipped her body the way it was supposed to be worshipped, with fervor, dedication, and allegiance.

Now look at me.

Look at us.

Does she know she shot The Proctor? Meaning, does she know what that is?

Or does she think she shot Axel her boyfriend who just so happened to have The Dean’s List?

Furthermore, who else knows I’m alive, and is she here to finish it?

I need to focus on one thing at a time. How many of the families think I died? How many of them have moles in this hospital? I have two IV’s in me, my chart says exactly where I’m at, who I am down to my blood type, I’m a sitting fucking duck. And Edward Hale wanted that fucking List so much he was willing to murder for it. A man like Edward, like my uncle, absolutely cannot get enough votes to become The Chancellor of The Honor Society and according to the annoying white board on the wall I have exactly nineteen days as The Proctor before the fucking Convocation where the four families aka Horsemen meet in a nice little room, pretend to be civilized and vote on keeping The Chancellor in his seat. Which any other year would be a bit more simple if we didn’t have Horsemen going AWOL trying to grab The Dean’s List and my guess? The handy ledger only The Proctor keeps on them with everyone’s debts. The Honor Society exists because there are people in this world with enough money, power, and influence, that laws become suggestions. Families can buy judges, bury evidence, destroy companies, ruin lives and make bodies disappear before breakfast. Someone has to keep them in check—and that’s where I come in. By keeping certain people in power, I prevent worse people from taking over. The Chancellor, with my help, makes rules and settles disputes before they become wars. By keeping families from expanding into other territories we keep the peace. We broker alliances, recognize heirs, acknowledge debts, and punish anyone who uses their power in a way that threatens the balance. Haha. No. Pressure.

Two years I’ve kept this secret. Two years I’ve lived a double life and somehow it worked. And all it took was my girlfriend shooting me to force my hand.

Jude and Lilah have gone silent next to me. I know this will hurt them. I know it won’t make sense when I later have to tell them what I did to survive—but I hope they can at least understand why I empty every emotion on my face down to slack in my jaw, blink twice, and frown. “You’re really pretty are you the new nurse? Please tell me you’re the new nurse.”

I clap for dramatic effect.

Jude curses while Lilah covers her mouth with her hands.

I laugh. “Guys, I kid, I kid.”

“Not funny!” Lilah raises her hand and just as she lowers it to tap me on the shoulder I blurt out.

“But seriously, who are you, and why are you in my room?” I hold up my hands. “Not complaining, if anything you should get a raise for having the shiniest hair I’ve ever seen.”

Charlie’s entire demeanor shifts from hunched over to stiff. My chest cracks as relief washes over her face. Well damn, that hurt. She’s glad.

Happy even.

You can see it in her posture, from her head to her toes, she goes from completely still like a statue getting ready to crack, to slumped posture followed by two quick exhales. Relaxed. Thankful. Safe.

The first girl I said ‘I love you’ to is happy I don’t recognize her.

Huh, I think, possibly, being shot, felt better than this.

Another knock sounds at the door.

A man in a suit leans against the doorframe. Oh shit, never mind this is worse, so much worse. Dorian Vane in the flesh. Forty-two, but looks twenty-eight, has enough muscle to remind you why you should eat protein and never skip leg day, has at least seven hidden bodies in basements all around Seattle and is one of my least favorite people in the world, mainly because he deals in absolutes while I deal in secrets and ledgers. Funny, since I have his name written down in my ledger that’s overdue by a few days.

“Why don’t we all go get something to eat?” Jude stands up and grips me by the shoulder. When I thought I was dying, I’d slipped the flash drive into his hands. I hope he still had it and I hope he takes it with him when he leaves this room.