Armani’s POV

  I toss the yellow stress ball I randomly got from a classmate into the air. It flies, hangs in the air for a split of second, then hurries down into my hand. I do it again, but it lands down on my chest with a thud. I hold it and stare at the smiley face drawn on it.

  The day I saw Zoey for the first time was the day I felt that thing. You know, that heart-jumping-in-your-chest, can't-stop-staring kinda feeling. The kind you read about in books and see in movies. Love at first sight, they call it. I was so gone, I probably looked like a goldfish; mouth open, drool ready to hit the floor, dumb as fuck.

  I gotta admit, I fell in love with her gorgeous, breath-taking brother, Hunter.

  Everything about him was perfect—The height, the muscles, the tattoos. His black hair was slick and fine, tied up in a messy bun with curtain bangs framing his face, some hair was hanging above his shoulders. I swear I'd never seen anyone so handsome. He was sitting in his fancy office chair, a glass of whiskey in one hand, looking me up and down with those sexy brown eyes that were way too charming to not stare at.

  Zoey? Yeah, I saw her for the first time then. She was there, leaning against his chair. I didn't even notice that she existed at first.

  "What's that, Bryan? Why'd you bring a flimsy kid?"

  That was the first thing Hunter said about me. It hit me hard. Me? A Flimsy kid? Yeah, I'm not tall like Kevin or fat like Lazlo, but size doesn't mean everything, right?

  Bryan stepped in, "We don't need a strong kid. We got Kevin and Lazlo." Hunter was too important to remember some poor assholes like them, so Bryan had to remind him of their nicknames.

  The Wolf and the Bull, Hunter called them that judging by the masks they wore. They were city legends. Top-tier thugs. All black clothes, leather gloves and bronze masks. They looked like something from the movies. Cool as fuck. The kind of guys that make people shit their pants. I remember the night after Kevin told me they wanted me to join them, I couldn't sleep. The chance to be like them was served to me on a golden plate, I thought.

  Hunter nodded. Then his eyes came back to me. "And this one?"

  "This one is different," Bryan bragged. "He will be our eyes."

  I was grinning like an idiot. Although I was not going to join epic fights or gunshots, I was happy to be included in Bryan's badass squad. Being a thug had always been my dream, and seeing Bryan approving it made me unable to stop grinning. No one back then told me that I'd be a fucking waiter at Riley's.

  But, Hunter didn't seem equally excited. "What's his role again?"

  Bryan leaned on Hunter's desk. "We need someone who can blend in. Not stand out. We can send him anywhere to be our eyes. He's got a good brain, and he can handle stuff. I know he looks dumb, but trust me, he's not."

  Hunter paused for a moment to look me up and down. "I can tell."

  That was the first good thing Bryan had ever said about me. I clasped my fingers behind my back, ready to say something cool. "Sir, I'm smart, I'm—"

  "Shut up," Bryan snapped without even looking at me. He turned back to the big boss. "You see, Kevin and Lazlo are terrible at acting normal. They're always looking for a fight."

  Hunter sighed. "Reminds me of someone."

  Bryan gave off a laugh then turned back to being serious. "Riley’s has opened a new lounge for teens. Like a café or something. They're hiring and the bitch manager will do anything for me. We'll send this one to be our spy."

  Hunter thought for a second. "Riley's is indeed our gateway to take down Cyrus Leonardo." His eyes flew to me again. "You sure no one will suspect... this guy?"

  "Of course!" Bryan said, giving me a slap on the back. That was not necessary but, anyway, he added. "Nobody will suspect this one. I mean, look at him. Look how dumb he looks!"

  I checked Bryan's face and he didn't look like he was joking. Do I really look dumb? I turned to Hunter and he was nodding. Damn.

  The two of them leaned in toward each other, whispering. I couldn't hear a thing, but their faces were relaxed and Bryan was smiling. That was the scary part; Bryan doesn't smile unless he's onto something crazy. When they were done, Hunter's neutral face had a weird expression on it. Something between concern and sympathy.

  "You'll come with us to my parlor," he said. "I'll give you the right-hand tattoo. You know there's no going back after that, right?"

  I couldn't stop grinning. I nodded. I was so ready to be a badass thug like my boys Kevin and Lazlo.

  "You know what the snake tattoo means? The only way to get rid of it is to cut off your hand."

  I was nodding so eagerly at him.

  "Come on," Bryan said, taking his car keys from the coffee table. "He lives with the other two kids. He knows everything, no need to explain. Let’s go."

  The three of us went to Hunter's parlor, a place hidden down a dark alley. While he worked on my wrist, I couldn't stop staring at the art on the walls, and at the big boss himself. Up close, he was even more perfect. The strong lines of his jaws, his veiny hands, the scent of his cologne. My heart was doing backflips as he tattooed my hand.

  He looked up at me, silent for a moment. I held my breath. I hope my face was not tomato-red at that moment.

  "I can give you a haircut," he said, shutting up all the weird thoughts in my head.

  "Kevin likes my hair this way," I said, pointing at the bun at the back of my head (my favorite hairstyle at that time) with my left hand. "He said I should keep it."

  Hunter gave a low, confident laugh. Like ‘hmph’ kinda laugh, and the corner of his lips rose in a half-assed smile. "Who asked about Kevin's opinion?"

  That... That was the coolest shit I'd ever heard. That man had this way of saying cool stuff that just blew my mind. Of course, Kevin didn’t like him. And Hunter didn’t like Kevin either. None of them ever said why. They just hated each other, so I never told Kevin I was in love with that handsome man.

  Now, all I can think about is that man's disappearance. I squeeze the stress ball a couple of times. People like him don’t usually vanish into thin air. But here comes the big question: why is Bryan doing nothing about it? That guy is not the type to sit still when one of his mates is in danger. It doesn’t make sense, at least to me. There has to be a lore behind it, but even Zoey doesn't know where her brother has gone to. Maybe Mr. Malcom knows something. His son, Alex, is at this school, but I haven’t spotted him yet. Maybe I should look for him and ask him about it. We’re not close friends, though. His father doesn’t like his son getting involved with lowlives like me. I heard Leonardo’s kids are also here, but I'm not sure.

  My phone rings. It’s Jaiden.

  "Be careful! Something is going on!"

  I sit up and put the ball aside. "What's wrong?"

  His voice drops low. "There's an owl with a tiny dick among us."

  "Who?"

  he doesn't answer.

  "Who?"

  Silence.

  "Who—oh..." I get it now. I check my phone and, as expected, he's already hung up. Son of a bitch.

  My eyes catch the date. September fifteenth, which means Annie's birthday is in seven days. I have already marked it on my calendar but the thought of putting on a performance for Annie and her birthday makes my stomach flip. Luckily, I didn't forget to shove that diamond ring in my luggage. No, of course I didn't sacrifice an organ to buy Annie a diamond ring—I stole it. It was Chloe's ring. Chloe Campbell. I call her Chloe Long Legs because she loved wearing those shorts that made her legs look like chopsticks. She was the daughter of Frederick Campbell, the owner of the biggest jewelry brand in the states.

  I sink into the bed and toss the ball up into the air again. A part of my fake job at Riley's, aside from serving drinks and snacks, is getting close to rich kids with powerful families (or date them like I did with Chloe) and let them pull me into their lives, and then Bryan's squad strikes. It’s easier than what everyone thinks. He couldn’t use Kevin or Lazlo for this though. I give the ball a squeeze before throwing it up again. We've stolen a lot, ruined a lot, destroyed a lot. No one ever suspected me at Riley’s, not even my friends. After getting my cut from taking down each kid's family business, I'd block them, and if they were annoying, I'd just ghost them. With Chloe, we got away with a million dollars worth of jewelry. As for the ring I’m giving Annie, I slipped it off the rich girl’s finger while we were kissing. She didn’t even notice it was gone.

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  I hold the ball for a moment. I never really cared about Chloe. The bitch thought she was special because she was a cheerleader. She was so loud that when she laughed, my ears bled. Fuck whoever inflated her ego way too much, I'm the one who's been paying the price. She walked around Riley's like she could buy anyone with her dad's money (actually, she could). She still texts me from other phone numbers, even though I've blocked her on everything. At first, I thought she'd suspect me for the jewelry theft, but it turns out that she just wants us back together, and she's not taking no for an answer. I throw the ball so hard that it hits the ceiling. She’s the most annoying ex I have ever dealt with. She's been chasing after me for some months now. That's the down side of being a bit too handsome. Luckily, I won't see her any time soon, especially when I'm here.

  The ball bounces down and rolls towards a piece of folded, yellow paper. It flies in the wind, scraping against the wooden floor in the corner of my room. I don’t think I've ever seen it before. I don't have any notebooks with yellow paper as well. Could it be... another letter? My heart drops into my stomach. I take a deep breath as I snatch it up and unfold it.

  "Meet me at 5 in the evening underneath the big oak tree. Don't bring anyone else. Sincerely, your friend."

  No. Not again.

  I'm not falling for this again.

  Whoever is behind this doesn't know who they are dealing with. They have messed with the wrong person.

  I walk over to the closet, open it, and pull out a small leather box that has my handgun inside. It's been loaded for a year, ever since Bryan gave it to me right after I got the tattoo. I've never used it. Kevin always said to only shoot if I'm about to die, but Bulldog told me that it's easy to get shot if someone suspected that I have a gun, so I've never actually used it. Usually, I’d swing it around to scare people. But today is different—I’m using it for the first time.

  The gun is cold in my hand, heavier than I thought. It feels… dangerous. My heart beats faster. My finger brushes the trigger, pressing gently against the hard metal. It doesn’t budge. As if it wants me to be sure before I make a choice. I remember Kevin practicing in the woods, the gunshots so loud and frightening. I'd watch him shooting empty bottles of beer, imagining myself using guns so easily like him. But I never got the chance to do so.

  He used to say, "You'll never be good at shooting until you kill someone."

  I don't want to be good at shooting, Kevin. But I think I have to be.

  He'd hate me if I killed. Although he was the kind of person that would do so on a daily basis, he never wanted me to end someone's life unless for a good reason. This time, my life is on the line. I got shot once and I’m going to get shot again today. Isn't that a good reason, Kevin? I point the gun at the window. My hand is shaky; my aim is unstable. I squeeze the handle and manage to get it to stop moving for a second. Long enough to end someone’s life.

  It's kill or be killed. Unfair, right? But it's so damn fair to me.

  It's still four in the evening. The sun starts to set behind the big oak tree. Perfect. I have some time to scout the back garden. I’ve never been there, but Annie said she loves chasing butterflies over the flowerbeds. Annie… I don't trust this girl. One day she’s cute and friendly, the next she’s messing with weapons, talking about her old days with a sad smile. She never says more, and I never push her. I don't want to know anything about her past. It reminds me of how I feel when I think about Kevin and the others though. She must have lost people too.

  I change into my school uniform and shove the gun into a backpack. I never use a backpack in this place. No one does since we keep our stuff in lockers. I may look weird, but no one will suspect a thing. It’s a school. Carrying a backpack won't make me stand out. I watch the back garden from my window. I see one entrance near the boys' dorm. I can't tell how many exits there are or what's past the garden. I can only make out flower beds, trees, and the oak tree.

  I head out, my heart pounding. I try to walk like it’s normal, but the injury in my leg hurts when I walk for more than ten minutes. I keep my eyes peeled for anyone that looks funny. I pause for a moment to catch my breath.

  Calm down. You're the only one with a gun here.

  My eyes scan the area around me. The garden is bigger than I thought. There are a few gardeners, a couple sitting and watching the sunset, an old nun minding her own business, a young girl running around, but no one looks dangerous. I can’t scout the whole thing now unless I want to look like I'm about to blow someone's head off. In all cases, it seems that I have the upper hand in this moment. I head straight to the oak try with quiet, small steps.

  As I walk around the big tree, I find a woman. A nun, a bit shorter than me. She’s looking to the other side.

  "Hey, um—"

  She jumps and spins around, a hand on her chest, the other behind her back. She exhales when she sees me. "You scared me."

  She’s pretty and younger than the other nuns. Blue eyes, and a few strands of blond hair peek out from under that thing over her head.

  "Sorry," I mumble.

  "Well, hello there!" she says, her smile wide. "I'm glad you came. You can call me Friend. For now."

  Her smile is contagious. I can't help but smile back. "Okay. But who are you?"

  She shrugs. "Your friend."

  "No. Your real name."

  "Just call me Friend."

  She's definitely hiding something. Both of her hands are behind her back now. But her face is soft and her body seems so relaxed that I feel like she means no harm. But as a professional spy trained by the asshole Bryan, I can tell she's also a spy. A weak one.

  "Okay, Friend," I say, and she nods happily. "Why did you send me that letter?"

  "I just want you to know I'm on your side," she whispers, leaning closer. "I've got your back while you're here. I wanted to tell you that in person, just in case anyone's watching."

  Her pretty face looks familiar, it tugs at something in my memory, but that thing she's hiding makes me unable to think. "Do I know you?"

  She stares back at me, looking a little shocked. "You do, but I don't think you'll remember." She gives off a chuckle.

  "Where did we meet? Did Bryan—"

  "Quiet! Quiet!" she shushes me, stepping even closer. "Don't say that out loud."

  I nod. I get it now. "Bryan sent you here to help us."

  "Yeah, but don't tell anyone about me. I'm supposed to help you secretly but it seems impossible, so I just wanted you to know I'm here for you." She looks around, then presses something small and cold into my hands. A strawberry milk carton. She was hiding it this whole time. "I don't have much time. I know you like strawberry milk."

  "Thanks, I guess."

  She smiles and takes some steps away to peek behind the oak tree.

  "If you need me," she says over her shoulder, "bury a message under the Red Buckeye right next to Christopher Hall's back gate and put a pebble on it. You might run into me from time to time, so you may not have to."

  “Hold on, so what—”

  She scurries, disappearing into the crowd of gardeners and couples. She didn't even give me the chance to ask: "What the fuck is a Red Buckeye?"

  I'm pretty sure I've seen this woman before, even though I'm positive that Bryan doesn’t know a lady this good-looking. I stare at the cold, damp strawberry milk carton. I have been looking for one this morning, but all the vending machines were out of strawberry milk today. I want to gulp it down in one sip, but being Bryan's brightest student doesn't allow me to do so. I mean, who the fuck knows if there's something injected in this thing?

  The bush next to me shivers. I turn toward it, my hand already reaching for my backpack. It wiggles again, and then with a more violent shake. It's not a squirrel. It's too big. A cat? No. It’s a person.

  "Fuck these—ouch!" Zoey yelps.

  I walk closer and see a pair of legs sticking out. "Fam, you stuck?" I tuck the milk box into my backpack and lean down.

  "Are you fucking blind? Of course I'm stuck! Ow! These things sting!" Her voice is a little muffled, she whines. "Get me out of here. Please. These tiny branches are all caught up in my clothes."

  I pull the bushes wide and untangle the branches carefully, trying not to prick her. When she's free, she pulls herself out and falls onto her back.

  "Man," she groans, "I thought I was never going to make it out."

  I can't help but laugh. Her black wig is fucked up, her clothes are covered in dust, and her knees are muddy. "You're so bad at this, bro. You can't stalk someone and be this close to them."

  "I wasn't stalking you!" she rolls her eyes at me. "I was looking for something."

  I love how she's so bad at lying. Hilarious.

  I step closer and offer her my hand. "And did you find it?"

  She stares at my hand, then at my face, then back at my hand.

  "Come on," I say. "Get up."

  After a second of hesitation, she takes my hand. I pull her to her feet.

  "I... I'm going to keep looking." She turns away.

  "I can help." I know there's nothing to look for, but I love seeing her panicking.

  "No! No, you can't!" She takes some steps back. "You can't help me with this. I can't trust an idiot like you to search for..." she trails off.

  I save her some face. "Was that thing important? How about we head back now? I bet you have some homework to do."

  She thinks for a moment, then nods at me. "Yeah, fuck it, I have homework to do."

  I hold in my laugh. She's so easy to play with.

  We walk in silence for a few seconds. She's brushing mud and leaves off her hoodie—Bryan's hoodie—while swearing. I watch her from the corner of my eye. Every so often, she glances at me and fixes her wig.

  "You must be pretty close to Bryan," I say. "He's okay with you wearing his hoodies?"

  She looks at me. "Why wouldn't he? I bet you're close to him, too." She narrows her eyes; a sign she's trying to corner me.

  I shrug. "He never gave me his hoodies."

  She hums, turning her attention to the path ahead. "He doesn't have to."

  I clear my throat. Time to make a move. "Did you see me with someone a minute ago?"

  She turns her head back to me, calmer than usual. "Have you been with someone?"

  "Maybe."

  "Then maybe I did see you with someone."

  I grin. "Doesn't that mean you were stalking me?"

  "I'm not!" she scoffs, back to her bratty self. "Why would I stalk you?"

  "Okay, okay, chill." I reach into my bag and pull out the strawberry milk I was given a moment ago. "Take this. You've been stuck in that bush for a while. You must be thirsty."

  "Is that strawberry milk?" Her brows rise up. She snatches it from my hand, stabs the straw into the carton, and inhales the entire thing. The carton crinkles as she crushes it, leaving no drop behind. She tosses it into a trash bin as we pass by one. She doesn't collapse. She's not dropping dead. She looks fine, just a bit anxious. Maybe ‘Friend’ is a real friend after all.

  Without a word, Zoey walks off towards the girls' dormitory.

  "See you at dinner, babe!" I shout after her.

  She spins around. "Don't call me that! And I don't want to see your fucking face at dinner!"

  She’s back to her normal self, and I like it.

  I bet her tough persona is just to hide that she likes me. I mean, who doesn’t?

  tell me you're foreshadowing without telling me you're foreshadowing was a chapter.