XIII

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Red Lion

Sex: Female

DOB: 08.15.03

POB: Russia

CO: Student

Strengths: Unknown

Weaknesses: Unknown

Other Information: CCTV footage secured

— RORI —

"Uvaldo?" i say, not bothering to look away from my phone screen.

"Hm?"

"Do you have some sort of title on your email?" i ask him, warily. "Like...like a name of some sort?"

It's currently Saturday morning and i am seated in the passenger side of Wyatt's Jeep, reading the email he sent me last night: it's contents a document he found in the basement of Aunt Tosca's cafe.

I have not seen many of my brothers in the past two days, including Zephaniah. I am surprisingly not bothered by this at all and enjoyed having less bodies in the house.

More so, less boys in the house.

I am amazed at the speed in which my mindset has changed, because, only a few hours after my chat with Quentin, i have forgotten about most of my woes.

"Because mine says Red Lion," i continue, "and i don't know what it means."

"Rori," he answers, further confusing me.

"Huh?"

"Your name, Rori, it means Red King. The lion is considered to be king, hence why it replaces the word," he replies, nonchalantly. "In other words, you are the lion in this situation. The king."

"But what is it used for? What's wrong with writing Rori?"

"It's kinda like a code name, i suppose. People tend to use those in the underworld. It sets you apart from everyone else, protects your identity. For example, the initials of your code name also substitute for your real name. R.L. Rori Łabanowski. Clever, huh?"

Rori. Red Lion. Rori Łabanowski.

Hmm.

"Wow..." i murmur, awe-struck. "Impressive."

Uvaldo laughs, exiting the car and making his way towards The Clubhouse. I follow behind, hot on his trail.

"You forgot the stupid box!" i holler, said box held in my arms.

"No, trust me, i didn't," he sings.

I angrily huff before attempting to catch up with him, but, as soon as i speed up, he bolts to the entrance, thus leaving me trailing behind once more.

"Uvaldo, you're injured!" i yell, not for the first time this week.

"Uvaldo, you're injured!" he mimics me in a girly, high-pitched tone of voice: one that sounds nothing like my own.

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