Rebel Rebel - Deadly Class [ 1 ]

Chapter 19

 It's still very early when I wake up, the sun barely up yet. The dawn's light filtering through the curtains, lightening softly the room makes me sight content until I hear someone softly groan behind me. Turning around as much as I could without disturbing him I watch the Nicaraguan beauty sleep.

The brown curls falling down his face, some sticking to his forehead. His lips are partly separated, snorting slightly. On his collarbone, marks of my work from last night, purple signatures that make me smile. I was fucked up, I liked him. I really liked him, as much as to get in deep shit with Maria, like him enough to not care about Maria, as selfish as that sounds.

"Too early." He groans when I try to get up, his hold on my waist tightens.

"You can stay, I have to go." I tell him softly.

"You didn't kick me out last night, that's a first."

"Guess I wanted to enjoy it. Go back to sleep." He hums in agreement and gives me a sleepy smile when I kiss his cheek, letting me go of his hold.

I put on my black jeans and shirt, packing a little bag with the essentials: first aid, my knifes, more knifes just in case, another shirt and jeans if I need to change... I stop in front of the closet and grab a box inside it. In the inside, there are photos of Henrik and I years back, one of Henrik with my father, both of them smiling. One of the whole family, including my mother, we're all happy, or so it shows. I grab the one with Henrik and Father, the three of us, as it should have always been. Grabbing the bag, I look back at the sleeping boy, sadly smiling and whispering an apology, some things just had to end at their beginning.

When I walk pass the doors, I see the black car park in front of the entrance, my father leaning on it as he waits for me.

"Did you make your goodbyes?"

"More or less. I'm really not coming back, am I?" I ask as I get inside the car, placing the bag on my feet.

"I never intended for you to graduate." He simply replies driving away from the center of the city.

"I'm not surprised, you never did. You never told me why."

"I got smarted, I figured them out." He says vaguely, his eyes on the road. "C'mon, we're here."

When we get out of the car, we stand in front of an old building that could totally pass for the place junkies and homeless people would hang out: dirty, ruined, forgotten. Securing my bag, I walk after my father, who makes his way to the back door. Stopping in front of the old fuse box, he opens it to introduce the passcode, opening the door.

This is one of the League's safe quarters, when operations were needed in San Francisco, or someone needed to lay low for a while. It's designed with reinforced steel, and there's weapons everywhere, alarms and if you don't know where to stand, cameras alerting the Headquarters. My father thought of everything when designing them.

I smile at the people as we walk to one of the holding cells. Most of them were the oldest more trusted members, those who trained alongside mine and my father's, those who swore eternal loyalty to the DuBois name and family.

When we access the holding cells complex, I see my mother. Her hair is perfectly placed in an elaborated braid, Viking styled. Her clothes are dirty and she looks like she hasn't sleep in days, I hope she hasn't.

"My darling daughter, how are y-"

"Henrik's location. Where is he?" I ask coldly, making her dramatically roll her eyes at my tone.

"I don't like that tone, young lady. How are you friends? How's that boyfriend?" she asks smiling and I have to repress a grow coming out of me.

"You mother has already given us the location, Hela."