When we sauntered into Principal Mortimer's office, we met him behind a mahogany table, a spectacle perched on his nose, and a pen poised over a stack of papers.
"Miss River... Master Calder," Mortimer said in a clipped voice, "What brings the two of you into my office?"
I swallowed a large amount of saliva as my eyes caught the picture of Derek's father, smiling broadly beside Principal Mortimer at a charity gala night.
"Sir, I have come to report Derek's assault. "
Principal Mortimer's pen froze mid-air, and his expression immediately changed from curiosity to cold dismissal. "Are you referring to Derek Mackrell or another Derek?"
"Derek Mackrell, Sir. He sneaked after me into the school's old restrooms and then tried to force himself on me... See, I just left the school infirmary a while ago," I mumbled, peeled my uniform off my shoulder, and then showed principal Mortimer the blue bruise, and the bandage at the back of my head.
"That's a serious accusation, Miss River. Do you have proof of this?"
My throat tightened. "Not exactly, Sir. I don't have a video record or -."
Mortimer raised his hand to silence me. "Miss River, Derek's father had been a generous benefactor to this school. He funded our library and our sports complex and was among the highest donors to the scholarship program you are currently enjoying. You can't just accuse his son without evidence, dear. "
Principal Mortimer had called me a liar without saying it. This made my eyes burn with humiliation. "I...I am not lying, Sir. I was -."
Jace cut into my speech by clearing his throat. "She isn't lying. I was there."
Principal Mortimer's brow snapped up. "You... witnessed this?"
Jace's gaze didn't falter. "Yes. He smacked her on the restroom wall, banged her head on the marble, and then tried to choke her to death."
I noticed Principal Mortimer's uneasiness as he adjusted his spectacles. "Well, if you are willing to testify, Mr. Calder, then this matter can not be ignored. I will...look into it thoroughly."
Jace forced a smile and then gestured to me to come with him.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"I doubt the principal would have listened to me if you weren't there."
Jace shrugged. "Don't worry. I will punish Derek if the school disciplinary committee fails to."
We spent the rest of the day chatting at the back of the school football field, and I was the first to step out of the school compound when the closing bell rang.
My mother had passed out on the couch, cradling an empty bottle of gin to her heart like a newborn. I stepped into the bathroom, peeled off my jacket, and winced. A groan escaped my sealed lips when I looked at my bruised shoulders. It was an ugly, perfect imprint of Derek's grip.
I had barely spoken to Jace Calder before today. He was a ghost at Silverclaw Academy. A ghost with disturbing rumours. According to the unverified rumours, Jace was expelled from three high schools and once murdered a colleague for insulting his father. He was called a freak at his back. But today, he had saved me, and that's all that matters.
I was forcing some doughnuts down my throat when my phone buzzed, and a message popped up.
'Dispatch: Urgent delivery - 7:30 pm
Client: Private
Pick-up: Warehouse 9, East District
Drop-off: Penthouse 44, Obsidian tower.'
I sighed. I don't have the luxury of rest. My work as a courier for NightRun Logistics - a sketchy, under-the-table delivery service - was the only thing keeping my mother fed.
I changed into my black riding gear, pulled on my helmet, and slipped out of the door.
The city was dark and crowded as I weaved through the traffic on my battered motorbike. The wind was chilling, and I feared rain might fall.
Warehouse 9 is a rusted zinc, rectangular-shaped building, and the door was opened after I knocked three times.
After handing a black case into my hand, the man said in a gravely voice, "Here. Don't open it, and be quick."
I nodded, stepped out of the warehouse, tucked the case into my satchel, and immediately sped off.
Obsidian Tower is located on the other side of the city. It was a gleaming spire of glass and steel that almost reached the sky and was home to the elite and the untouchable.
The doorman did not ask any questions but waved me through and then pointed to the elevator entrance.
A sigh escaped my mouth as I glared at my reflection inside the elevator mirror. I look pale, hollow-eyed, and tired. The elevator door opened on the 44th floor, and I emerged into a luxurious, dark, and silent Penthouse. My eyes immediately roamed towards a lady sipping from a glass of wine by the window.
My breath snagged in my throat as she stepped towards me. Lyra Vane. The corner of her lip curved in a smile shy of laughter. Somehow, I had the feeling she had been waiting for this moment.
"Very well," she muttered. "Sliverclaw's little charity case is here to deliver a package. How amusing."
My blood ran cold at the memory of Lyra Vane's murderous look some hours ago when she accused me of chasing her boyfriend. "What are you doing here?"
Lyra's heel clicked like gunshots as she sauntered towards me. "This is my family building, and you are on my turf."
She snatched the case from my hand, lifted it up, and then shook it violently. "Do you even know what you are carrying?"
Lyra did not wait for my response but burst into uncontrollable giggling. "I doubt you did."
"I was warned never to open it."
Lyra nodded. "Of course, you are. You are
⁰⁰playing a game you don't understand, Liana River. People like you don't get a happy ending."
Lyra kissed her teeth and turned away from me. "Run along, mutt. Go, before someone takes it to his or her head that you're worth less alive."
I shrugged and left without a word. But the moment the elevator door closed behind me, I released the breath I had been holding and placed my palm on my raging heartbeats.
My Mom had left for her usual drinking club before I arrived back home. And because I was exhausted, I only removed my working gear and then slumped on the bed.
I was dreaming of a wasp trapped in a jar when my eyes suddenly popped open. It wasn't a wasp, but my buzzing phone.
I groaned, rolled over, and then grabbed it.
Seven missed calls, three voicemails, and one new message.
Dispatch: Urgent - where is the package?
My blood ran cold as I raised myself to a sitting position and tried to recollect yesterday's movement. I remembered delivering the package to Lyra Vane and remembered the smug look on her face when she held it up like a trophy.
My phone buzzed again.
Incoming call: Dispatch HQ.
I hesitate before accepting the call.
"Rivers," a male voice growled from the other side of the line. "Where is our package?"
"I had delivered it," I said quickly. "To the Obsidian Penthouse 44. A woman took it -."
"The woman didn't confirm your delivery, River. Don't tell me she didn't sign your delivery form as well."
"I forgot, Sir...I swear, a -."
"You did what? That's your headache, River." The voice cut into my speech. "You have 48 hours to deliver the package, or we are coming for you."
My hands shook violently as the line went dead.