Chapter 10 - That's the problem

Roman's POV

People are supposed to be scared of me. I’ve spent years making damn sure they are. Fear keeps people predictable and in line. It stops idiots from asking questions they don’t want the answers to and keeps enemies far enough away that I don’t have to waste my fucking time dealing with them. I’ve watched grown men struggle to hold eye contact with me. I’ve watched students cross entire fucking corridors because they see me coming. None of it bothers me. If anything, I prefer it to be that way. Fear is useful. It's a simple motion that keeps people in their own lanes. And it should be easy to understand. So somebody explain why the second Ivy’s voice changed this afternoon, I moved.

No arguments. No smart-ass comments. No deliberately pushing all of her buttons just to watch those brown eyes catch fire. Nothing.

Her back hit that wall, her fingers tightened around that camera, and she looked at me differently. Then she said one fucking word. Move.

And I did. Because around her, I become a little bitch.

The glass in my hand hits the table harder than intended, earning a glance from the guy sitting opposite me. He quickly looks away. Smart bastard. I lean back in my chair and stare around the room beneath Blackthorne University, wondering how the fuck I’ve managed to spend the last twenty minutes thinking about Ivy when I’m supposed to be dealing with an actual problem. The Hollow doesn’t officially exist to the outside world. That’s the first thing every member learns. Beneath the oldest part of Blackthorne, beyond a locked iron door most students assume leads to some abandoned maintenance tunnel, is a room built long before any of us were born.

Stone walls. No windows. One long black table. Thirteen chairs.

Thirteen positions that have been passed between families for generations. People upstairs think money runs Blackthorne. They’re wrong. Money buys buildings. Names buy influence. The Thirteen control what happens inside them.

“Are you planning on joining us tonight, or should we give you another ten minutes to stare at the fucking wall?”

My eyes move across the table.

Cole is leaning back in his chair with the kind of smile that has convinced half this university he’s a decent human being. That’s their first mistake. The second is assuming the surname Saint means anything about the bastard wearing it. He is anything but a saint and he could kill you and not even flinch about it.

“I’m listening.”

“You haven't said anything for ten minutes.”

“That should make you happy.” I snap in his direction. Life was so much simpler when she wasn't here.

“It normally would make me happy. Incredibly happy because then I haven't got to listen to you brag about what bitch you had in your room." he smirks and casually flips his lighter in his fingers.

Noah looks up from the laptop in front of him. “He’s distracted.” is all he comes out with.

“I’m thinking.”

Cole’s grin widens.

“About your stepsister?”

The room goes quiet.

Slowly, I turn my head towards him.

“Do you have a fucking death wish?”

“So that’s a yes then." he laughs but I'm not in the mood to laugh along with him because yes. I fucking am thinking about her.

“Keep talking and we can test the theory.”

Rhys doesn’t look up from the papers in front of him but he does put his own thoughts on this. “I’d pay to watch.”

“Fuck you too.” Cole laughs.

There are nine other people around this table, but the four of us have known each other long enough to understand exactly how far we can push before someone ends up bleeding. Usually Cole pushes furthest. Noah pretends he’s above it until he isn’t, and Rhys barely needs to speak because the miserable bastard somehow makes silence threatening. Tonight, I’m not in the mood for any of them. We have a breach to deal with, and instead of concentrating on the access logs Noah pulled earlier, I keep seeing Ivy trapped between me and that wall. I didn’t touch her. I wasn’t going to touch her. But that isn’t the fucking point is it. For one second, she looked at me the same way everyone else does. Like she didn’t know what I might do. I should have enjoyed it. Yesterday, I probably would have. Instead, the memory has been sitting beneath my ribs all afternoon, irritating the fuck out of me.

Cole taps his fingers against the table. “You moved.”

My attention snaps back to him. “What?”

“When she told you to move. You did it and you wouldn't normally do that.”

I go still.

He fucking saw us? As if he can read my mind all of a sudden, he just shrugs.

“I was crossing the quad and happened to hear her and then thought ah fuck it... a good show won't hurt.”

“Congratulations moron.”

“You had her against a wall and didn't strangle her?.”

“I didn't have her anywhere and I would have loved to strangle her.”

“Didn't say you did but I bet you would. You kinky fucker.” he laughs which has the other two idiots laughing too and Rhys never fucking laughs.

“Then choose your words carefully.”

His smile disappears slightly.

“She told you to move, and you moved.”

Noah glances between us.

“Why is that significant?”

Cole looks at him.

“Because Roman doesn't move for anyone. He would throw mountains across campus before he would listen to someone. Let alone a woman.”

“I moved because I'm not a total monster."

Rhys finally looks up.

“When it benefits you.”

“Thank you for your contribution.” I say as I doom scroll on my phone.

“You're welcome.”

I lean forward, planting my forearms on the table.

“Are we done discussing my fucking stepsister?”

Cole raises an eyebrow.

“You tell us.”

I stare at him until he eventually lifts both hands in surrender, although the bastard is still smiling.

“Fine. Back to the breach.”

Good.

Because I don't like where that conversation was going.

Noah turns the laptop around, and the atmosphere changes immediately. This is why we're here. Three nights ago, somebody accessed an encrypted section of The Hollow's private server using credentials belonging to a member who swears he was nowhere near the system. Maybe he's lying. Maybe someone stole his credentials. Either way, somebody got inside. Membership records. Financial transactions. Initiation histories. Family connections. Information capable of destroying reputations, careers and several fucking marriages if it ever left this room. The idiot didn't d******d anything as far as we can tell, but they searched through seventeen files before the system kicked them out. That's seventeen too many.

Nothing leaves The Hollow. Not names. Not records. Not initiation details. Nothing. That rule existed before my father sat in this room, before his father did, and breaking it has consequences nobody at this table needs explained.

“Access originated on campus,” Noah says.

“Where?”

“That's the problem. Whoever did it bounced the connection through enough locations that I'm still narrowing it down.”

“Still?”

He looks at me. “Would you like to do it?”

“No.”

“Then shut the fuck up.” Cole whistles quietly as he mutters “Someone's feeling brave." but Noah being Noah simply ignores him and turns the screen back toward him.

“I've recovered most of the search history. Family records were accessed first. Then the current memberships. Then archived disciplinary reports. And lastly, the initiation projects.”

“Anything specific with the names?”

“A few surnames.”

“Which ones?”

He starts listing them.

None mean anything immediately. Old families. Former members. A professor whose father belonged to The Thirteen twenty years ago. Someone who graduated before I started at Blackthorne. There’s no obvious pattern as to which names were pulled out, which only pisses me off more. People don't break into systems like ours for entertainment. They want something and it usually begins with Information. Cross checked with leverage of a past feud. And then finally, revenge. Whatever it is, I want to know before they decide that their searching isn't enough. I stand and walk behind Noah, scanning the recovered log myself. Numbers. Dates. File names. Search queries. Most of it looks like fucking nonsense without context. I’m halfway down the page when Cole starts saying something about checking university security footage, but I stop listening. One line near the bottom of the screen has caught my attention.

I read it once.

Then again.

No. That can't be right.

“What the fuck is that?”

Noah turns.

“What?”

I point at the screen.

“That.”

He scrolls back slightly.

And there it is.

IVY GRACE KEPNER.

Everything inside me goes fucking still.

Not calmer.

Worse.

There are different kinds of anger. The loud kind burns quickly. I want to punch something. Break something. Get it out. This isn't that. This is the kind that settles cold beneath my skin and makes everything around me sharpen. Ivy's name has no business being inside our system. She arrived at Blackthorne weeks ago. She doesn't know what The Hollow is. She doesn't know about The Thirteen, our families, the shit beneath this university or the things that have been done to keep it buried. As far as she's concerned, her biggest problem here is having an asshole for a stepbrother. I intended to keep it that way. I lean closer to the laptop and read the timestamp beside her name. Whoever accessed the files searched for Ivy less than twenty-four hours after she arrived on campus.

Cole stands.

“Roman.”

“Why is her name there?” I shout and all 12 heads are watching me carefully.

“We don't know.”

I look at Noah who keeps looking at the screen and keeps tapping on the keyboard.

“What did they access?”

“I'm checking.”

“Check faster.”

“Give me a fucking second.”

He types again, opening another window before running the search again. Nobody around the table is joking now. Good. Because if one person makes a smart comment about her, I'm liable to put their head through the fucking table. A list appears. One result. A recently updated family association file created automatically when my father registered his marriage with the university's alumni trust. Caroline Kepner. Ivy Kepner. Their connection to our family. Addresses. Education. Bank statements. Basic information. Nothing particularly useful unless someone wanted to know exactly who had just entered our lives. My jaw locks so hard it hurts. This isn't coincidence. Whoever got into the system didn't stumble across Ivy's name by accident. They fucking typed it in.

“Was her file opened?”

Noah nods.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Thirty-eight seconds.”

“What did they see?”

“Everything in the association record.”

My chair crashes backwards when I shove away from the table.

“Find out who.”

Noah looks up.

“We're already trying.”

“Try fucking harder.”

“Roman.”

Cole's voice is different now. No teasing. Instead of storming out of here and throwing heads around, I turn on him.

“What?”

“We don't know that she's the target.”

“Someone broke into our system and searched her full fucking name. That is not something you do unless you are a target or unless you want information on them.”

“They searched other people too.”

“She has been here less than a week.”

“I know.”

“Then don't stand there telling me this could be nothing.”

“I'm telling you not to tear Blackthorne apart before we know what we're dealing with.”

Too late. I may hate the girl but only I can hate on her and only I can torment her. No one else can.

My mind is already moving through every person I've seen near her. Every face at the party. Every student outside the photography building she study's at. Ethan. Her roommate. Professors. People I didn't pay attention to because until seventy-two fucking hours ago, Ivy Kepner wasn't my responsibility. She still isn't. That's the part I should remember. She's nineteen. Stubborn. Mouthy. Perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and she'd probably stab me with a camera lens if she heard me suggest otherwise.

Doesn't matter.

Someone went looking for her.

And now I'm looking for them.

Rhys closes the folder in front of him.

“Does she know anything?”

“No.”

“Keep it that way.”

“I intend to.”

Cole watches me. “And what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

He actually laughs.

“Bullshit.”

I glare at him. “I mean I'm not telling her.”

“That wasn't my question.”

I know.

That's why I didn't fucking answer it.

I look back at Ivy's name glowing on the screen. A few hours ago, she was standing in the courtyard calling me exhausting while deleting photographs because I asked her to. She doesn't belong in this. She shouldn't even know this room exists. She should be worrying about assignments, cameras and whatever poor bastard she plans on using to piss me off tomorrow. Not this.

Not us.

Not me.

I grab my jacket from the back of the chair.

“Where are you going?” Noah asks.

“To make sure she's where she's supposed to be.”

Cole sighs.

“And there it is.”

I stop at the door.

“There what is?”

“That thing you're definitely not doing.”

“What thing?”

“Caring. You're caring about her."

My hand tightens around the door handle.

“Go fuck yourself, Saint.”

His laugh follows me into the corridor.

I don't care.

That's what I tell myself as the iron door closes behind me. I don't care about the stupid photograph. I don't care that Ivy looked frightened when I got too close. I don't care that some skinny bastard touched her arm this morning and I spent ten minutes considering how many fingers he could afford to lose. And I definitely don't care that her name appearing on a screen downstairs made something violent wake up inside me.

I don't fucking care.

But somebody went looking for Ivy Grace Kepner.

And whoever they are just made one very fucking stupid mistake.

They gave me a target.