Fallen Queen

~ C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - S E V E N ~

I sit on the edge of the kitchen counter as the three of them- Wolfe, Niko and Stel sit on barstools on the other side of the kitchen counter. I uncross my hands and brace myself on the edge, and in swift motion, I pull myself to sit on the kitchen counter. It is cold and my thighs almost flinch slightly.

Wolfe suggested that this was something he couldn't discuss in the absence of Nicolas and Stellan, since they were coherent parts of the business he was so deeply involved in. And that's how it ended up being them coming over to my apartment.

Wolfe slammed his glass on the counter and the sound reverberated throughout my thighs and goosebumps danced on my skin. Niko's eyes look in a daze, as if he's carefully considering the info Wolfe provided us all with. I use one hand to support myself while using the other one to sip from my juice silently. "This is strange," I laughed nervously.

"Indeed," Nikolas muttered and crossed his arms, "He's hosting a dinner for our batch right immediately after the matches. This is way too coincidental for something," he shrugged, "I contacted a few of our batchmates, they admitted to having received the letter; in fact, they were pretty excited."

"I just can't see why Dartagnan's son would want to do all of this right after one bitch stormed into his father's hospital, shot the manager and gave him a good ass-whooping," he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth and laughed in a muffled tone. I shoot him a look of utter disapproval. "Don't pretend that I'm exaggerating, Isa. You literally shot somebody?! That's no funny business here, young lady," he leaned back and eyed me curiously, "Wherever to you disappeared in Montreal, I don't trust your motives at all."

"No, that's not it," Wolfe shook his head, staring straight ahead, "Things have been tremulous between the father and son since ages now," he straightens his shoulders, "I seem to have some more information which may sound extremely stupid, but I can say with conviction that it is precisely spot on." We looked at him questioningly as he got up and grabbed his iPad. Scrolling through it secretively, he finally placed it on the stool. I leaned over, eyeing it curiously.

"Jaisel was twenty-four when he came to our university," he paused and swiped again, coming to another picture of Jaisel standing in a familiar location- now that I think carefully, it definitely is the audience's stands back in Harvard. The timestamp on the picture dates back to 2017, the year when we graduated from Harvard- the day of the final soccer and basketball matches. "Already a successful entrepreneur, by then, having graduated from Harvard as well." He looked at us as if wanting us to guess.

"Does that mean he could have been there when we were freshmen?" Stel asked with a furrowed brow. It sounded unlikely, anyways. "Not exactly, but you're close," Wolfe sported a lopsided smile that hinted victory, "He bid his farewell when we entered," he shook his head, "I have a bad feeling about this dude. It's like he's been tailing us all along, or more accurately," he snuck a glance at me from the corner of his eyes, "-someone among us."

"SUS, Wolfe," I made a face at him and groaned, "I don't like the way you're looking at me."

"I'm not accusing you," he grunted and kept his eyes on his iPad, scrolling again, until his brows furrowed farther; at this point, I'm not sure if he can go even farther than that. I drum my fingers on the table, until he turns the screen towards me.

I am shocked, stunned, my blood turning to ice at the photograph he shoves in my face; it's like a punch in the guts. I recognize all three of the faces in the picture- it's just that it comes off as entirely implausible. Bile climbs up my throat and wiggles there like the most unwanted of visitors- I tried to gulp with no help from my parched throat.

"I can't-" I couldn't formulate my words sensibly, "-I- no," I shook my head fervently, "Why and how is this possible!" It's more displeasure than a question.