Elancer ironside academy.., p.37
Elancer (Ironside Academy Book 6), page 37
“Fucked?” She glanced sideways at him, catching his grin before thinking on the more serious aspect of the question. “I have no idea what I would do if I had a choice.”
“Maybe we’ll find out,” Elijah said gently.
She couldn’t tell if he really believed that there would be an option or if he just wanted her to hope.
19
Yojimbo
Niko walked into the bunk room where Isobel and Elijah were still sleeping, his attention drifting up from Isobel’s socked feet, where they twisted around Elijah’s calves, to the silk shorts cupping her perfect ass. Elijah’s arms circled her, holding her tight even in a deep sleep, hands clutching at her possessively.
She was wearing another pair of typical, rich-girl pyjamas, which meant she had packed expensive little silken wet dreams to bring to an abandoned war bunker.
His mate was ridiculous, and he loved every little thing about her, but it was really starting to look like everyone else knew exactly how to fall in line with her, except him. For so long, he had felt unsteady in his own body and mind. He had been the first to bond with her, but then the bond was damaged, and so was their connection. Sometimes, it seemed like all of them had moved on and left him behind, but he knew that wasn’t true. He couldn’t help but know it. He could feel it inside her—how much she cared for him and how much she cared for the others. When she grinned at him, rolled her eyes at him, or burned under his unflinching attention, it wasn’t any more or any less than what she felt for the others.
Isobel wasn’t a chaser, at least not a confident one, and he had felt like too much of an alien in his own skin to make room in his mind for the gentleness and softness she deserved. She loved to be claimed, and he was more than capable of doing that, but he wasn’t as confident in what would be required of him after. So he held back. And he thought several of the other Alphas were holding back, too—some of them for the same reason.
But there he was, watching the last domino fall, and he was alone again.
He was supposed to be waking them up, warning them that arrests were being announced. The news had broken that morning, but Amina Al-Fahim must have already looped in the authorities, because it was only a matter of hours before the officials were being seized.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, saving him from the words that lodged in his throat. Elijah had set up a signal booster the night before, but this was the first message he had received.
Sora: Are you okay?
He quickly replied to his sister.
Niko: I’m safe.
Sora: They quoted you in the article.
Niko: I know.
It took her a few moments of typing and deleting to send her reply.
Sora: Are you really okay?
She wasn’t asking if he was physically safe.
He exited out of the conversation, finding another message from his other sister, Yume, also asking if he was okay. Nothing from his parents. He switched to the group chat with both of his sisters so that he could talk to them simultaneously.
Niko: I don’t know how this is going to turn out, but either way, I’m done hiding.
Niko: Carter is my mate. You can tell Okasan and Otosan that the silent treatment will never work.
Niko: I’ll give her up when I’m dead.
He chewed on his lip, watching their typing bubbles frantically appear and disappear, before Yume finally responded.
Yume: Why didn’t you tell us earlier?
Niko snorted, looking up to the ceiling with a shake of his head. He wasn’t ashamed of their group, far from it. This was the best thing he had ever done, the most positive thing he had ever built. These were his best friends and … not exactly the girl of his dreams, because he had pictured someone that his parents would accept. But she was better than anything he had ever dared to hope for, and he was proud of it.
Still, the rest of the world wouldn’t understand, and it was none of their fucking business. He had stepped away from Ironside, and he had no idea what that meant for Eleven, for his career, for his future, but for once, he had the freedom to decide that it was nobody’s business but theirs.
Still … this was his family. Not quite as close as the one he had built over the years at Ironside, but just as important.
Niko: She’s mine, but she’s also theirs. She bonded to each of the Alphas.
Sora: Holy … fuck?
Yume: That little girl?
He frowned down at his screen, ire bubbling up his chest, but his sister’s next message calmed the swell.
Yume: I KNEW she was badass.
Yume: I tried to tell Okasan and Otosan. Our parents ignored me. But I knew. I totally said she was a secret badass.
Sora: That was me! You said she was too sassy for Niko.
Yume: Yeah, but look how sassy Niko is now. I guess they were fated after all.
Niko: I don’t like this.
Sora: Don’t worry, Niko-chan. Carter already won Okasan over.
She sent through a video, and Niko clicked into it, his brow crinkling in confusion. His screen filled with the image of his mother dancing in the poky living room of their house, her eyes fixed on the television, as if she were copying a music video. When she did a clunky little spin, Niko spied what was on the screen she was watching.
Waking up with Carter was splashed across the top of the screen. It was the online segment that Ironside had started, once Isobel’s morning dancing began to garner too many views. His chest seized at the smile on his mother’s face, the determination in her expression as she tried to learn the steps of the dance.
Sora: She does that every morning. When Carter stopped the segment, she saved all the videos so she could still do them. Says that dancing first thing in the morning is going to help her live to 100.
Niko flicked back to the video, his thumb hovering over the frozen image of his mother on the screen, her small, determined figure in the familiar, cluttered living room. He could see the edge of the family altar in the background, the black lacquered surface dusted with old incense ash, a framed picture of his late grandparents smiling over his mother’s shoulder. His chest tightened, his throat constricting around the unfamiliar warmth blooming there.
He could remember sitting cross-legged on that very floor, his sisters on either side of him, his mother’s warm hands on their small shoulders, gently guiding them into a bow before the altar as his father murmured behind them. Back then, his mother’s hair had been long and shiny, swept into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck, her kimono always perfectly pressed.
Now, her hair was streaked with silver, cut short around her chin, her house clothes wrinkled and loose as she stumbled through the dance moves, her bare feet thumping softly against the mats. She was breathless by the end of the video, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she grinned at whoever was holding the phone to record her, a bead of sweat trickling down her flushed cheek.
Niko’s vision blurred for a second, and he blinked hard, his thumb shaking slightly as he hit the replay button again. This time, he watched with a closer eye, picking out every detail of the room he had grown up in, every familiar object, the faint light filtering in through the doors, the sound of his mother’s breath as she moved, the quiet chuckle of his father in the background, clearly trying not to disturb her workout.
They had brought their culture with them to the settlement, as most Gifted immigrants did, hoping to retain a shadow of what their lives might have been in a melting pot of different religions, cultures, and backgrounds. His parents followed both the Shinto and the Gifted religions, claiming that they were complementary, but he and his sisters had swayed more toward the Gifted religion, visiting the settlement chapel every day on their way to the volunteer school, which was run out of Mrs Morrone’s house.
His sisters always dropped an offering and bowed to Sannara, just as they would to a Shinto shrine, praying for her to aid their parents’ clinic with her healing. Niko did the same, sometimes, but he mostly bowed and made his offerings to Aphelina. He prayed for her to change his eyes. To gift him a mate.
He left the chapel feeling guilty every morning, because he didn’t wish for the same someone his parents wished for. Someone to further their culture and heritage, rather than diluting it. Someone who spoke their language and understood their customs. Someone who had suffered exactly what they had suffered.
Instead, he prayed for someone who could make people smile, because he wanted to be happy.
He watched the video twice more, his pulse thundering, his breath coming short and sharp in his chest at his mother’s smile. He hadn’t realised how tightly he had been wound, how much weight had been pressing down on his shoulders. The tension broke in a sudden, quiet release, like a wire snapping inside him, and a choked, half-hysterical laugh escaped his lips.
The bed creaked, and he glanced up to see Elijah blinking blearily at him, his mismatched eyes sharpening as he took in Niko’s expression, his brow furrowing in concern. Isobel stirred in his arms, her small hands flexing against his bare chest, her head turning as she tried to bury herself deeper into his warmth.
Niko quickly cleared his throat and flashed Elijah a tight, awkward grin. “Family stuff,” he muttered, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.
Elijah’s eyes softened, his grip on Isobel tightening instinctively, stirring her awake.
Niko glanced down at his phone again, his heart still racing, his chest still tight, but the weight that had been suffocating him for years felt a little lighter now, a little more bearable. His mother was dancing. She was smiling. Maybe she was still his mother too.
He took a deep breath, his thumb flicking to the group chat again, his fingers trembling only slightly as he typed out a new message.
Niko: I’ll call you both soon.
Yume: You better. We have a lot to talk about.
Before he could respond, another notification came through, and he tapped on it without thought.
Otosan: You’re safe?
He frowned at the message from his father—the first from either of his parents since the year before. It couldn’t be a coincidence. One of his sisters had already blabbed. They were probably all in the same room, reading his messages out loud to each other.
Niko: I’m safe.
He stared at the screen, waiting, his heartbeat pounding so hard he didn’t even hear the soft footsteps until Isobel was before him, her eyes full of concern and curiosity. She had taken out the contact, leaving both irises to swirl with a multitude of colours dotted like specks across a starry sky. He turned his phone just enough to invite her to look, and she immediately edged closer to his side, the warmth of her body washing over him, her sweet scent making his mouth water so much that he had to clear his throat and swallow.
When his hand slipped over her back, she cuddled closer, and Elijah moved to his other side, also staring down at his phone.
“Otosan?” Isobel questioned, a frown in her voice as she mispronounced the word entirely.
“His dad,” Elijah answered.
Typing bubbles popped up, and they all froze, breath halting, waiting for the incoming message.
Otosan: You should show her Yojimbo.
Niko let out a short laugh that almost turned into a sob, his hands shaking.
“Her?” Isobel asked, as Elijah’s eyes flicked up, burning into the side of his face.
“You told them?” Elijah asked.
Niko nodded. “I told my sisters that Isobel is my mate and that she’s also mated to you lot.”
Isobel sucked in a breath, but then said, “Yojimbo?”
“It’s his favourite movie.” Niko’s chest hurt so much, he almost couldn’t breathe. “He’s always trying to get us to watch it.”
“I’ll watch it,” Isobel said, her hand creeping across his chest absently, pressing her palm directly against where he hurt.
“Yeah?” he croaked.
Before she could answer, his father sent another message.
Otosan: You’re all okay?
Niko’s chest squeezed tighter, and Isobel patted against his shirt soothingly.
All. Not both. His father was deliberately acknowledging the entire bond.
“Guys!” Bellamy called out from down the hallway. “Get in here!”
He quickly tapped out a reply as they hurried to the main room of the bunker, where everyone had crowded around Elijah’s computer. The faint hum of the ventilation system barely cut through the nervous, uneven breathing of the group, the screen casting a cold, blue glow over their faces, highlighting the anxiety in all their eyes.
Gabriel—sitting before the laptop—had the volume low, but he turned it up until the clipped, precise tone of the news anchor bounced through the room, her French accent sharp as she spoke.
“Breaking news this morning as multiple high-profile arrests have been made in connection with the chilling Ironside Academy scandal that broke earlier. Several officials implicated by the release of damming personal statements and recordings have been taken into custody, including council members, government workers, and law enforcement officers. Early reports indicate that among those arrested is Mei Ito, a famous podcaster, who has been charged with recruiting students into the secret institution known as the Stone Dahlia. Amongst the top Ironside officials taken into custody are: Callum Rowe, Tilda Anderson, Yulia Novikov, Brian Able, Viktor Kovalchuk, Kesi Okafor, Maxim Grant, and Dr Julian Desmarais.”
“Holy shit,” Kilian whispered, leaning in closer, his brows drawing together as he watched the anchor’s carefully composed expression.
“Mei Ito?” Theodore muttered, his mouth twisting in confusion. “What?”
“Shhh.” Gabriel’s hand tightened around the edge of the laptop, his eyes unblinking as he focussed on the screen.
“A representative for the hosts of the Ironside Show, Ed Jones and Jack Ransom, has released a statement to say that they are cooperating with police,” the anchor continued. “Their lawyer is claiming that both men were blackmailed into illegal activities, and they are hoping for a reduced sentence as part of an early guilty plea bargain.”
Niko could barely breathe, his entire body tight with anxiety as he leaned forward, trying to get closer to the screen. The broadcast cut to a shot of Ironside’s imposing main gates. Police vans lined the front courtyard, their lights flashing in the early morning mist. Dozens of uniformed officers moved in and out of the academy, some escorting men and women in suits, their faces obscured by turned collars and bent heads.
A small window appeared in the corner of the screen, showing the anchor as she continued. “The Préfet de Police has revealed that authorities have been aware of the Stone Dahlia and have been building their case, though it remains unclear just how much they knew, and for how long. In another significant development, Callum Rowe, the former director of both Ironside Academy, the Ironside Show, and all labels and brands associated with Ironside, has reportedly struck a deal with prosecutors, agreeing to provide evidence against Yulia Novikov, a powerful figure believed to be the true mastermind behind the Stone Dahlia. Rowe’s testimony has already led to the arrest of several high-profile figures, though it remains unclear whether he himself will face a prison sentence or be released on bail as part of his cooperation agreement before what will inevitably turn into a lengthy legal trial.”
“Of course,” Cian muttered under his breath, his teeth audibly gnashing together. “He’s going to sell that bitch out to save himself.”
Maya and Sophia threaded their fingers together, both glaring at the screen. Bellamy claimed Sophia’s other hand, and Luis hung off Maya’s leg, attempting to peer between the bodies of the Alphas.
The image on the screen had changed to a headshot of Sloan. “Susan Sloan, an employee at Ironside, has come forward as a key witness, providing crucial evidence that has implicated a range of officials.” The anchor’s voice rose slightly as the magnitude of the story crept into her tone. “Sources indicate that Sloan’s testimony has directly linked the scandal to governors, council members, government employees, and law enforcement officers in multiple countries, including police officers and even high-ranking military personnel, though names have not yet been released to the public.”
The screen cut to a grainy shot of Sloan being escorted into a police station, her shoulders hunched beneath the harsh glare of the flashing camera lights, her expression stony and unreadable, her dark hair fuzzier than usual, harried spirals fluttering into her eyes.
The air in the bunker seemed to thicken, the tension in the small, enclosed space becoming almost unbearable as the full weight of the words sank in. Gabriel’s grip on the laptop tightened, his knuckles turning white.
“What is happening?” Bellamy whispered in shock, his eyes wide, flitting across each of their faces.
“Callum Rowe is going to get away,” Isobel answered, melting the shock from Niko’s limbs and replacing it with dread.
She was likely right.
Isobel couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing.
Her phone had been vibrating nonstop in her pocket ever since she had woken up, but she had been too focussed on Niko, at first, and then too struck by the events unfolding on the screen before her. She was still too numb to reach for it to check who was calling her so obsessively. Amina Al-Fahim had dropped the mother of all bombs—though of course, nobody had even spoken her name. The New York Times was the publication behind the article—it was scrolling across the bottom of the news screen. Nothing about Amina Al-Fahim.
Officials. Celebrities. Governors. Council members. Government employees. Law enforcement.
They were all being hung out to dry.
Everyone except Callum Rowe, who was somehow managing to shift all the blame to Yulia Novikov.
Isobel’s hands slowly curled into fists, her nails biting into her palms as the anchor continued to speak.
“The recordings revealed in the article appear to directly correlate with many of the personal statements released by the survivors. These statements, written by the Gifted whistleblowers, paint a deeply disturbing picture of abuse, coercion, and exploitation at the hands of powerful figures within the Ironside group and the Official Gifted Governing Body. The statements detail years of systematic grooming, forced performances, physical and sexual violence, and attempted sex trafficking, all concealed behind the academy’s public image, and all beginning in the settlements, before students even arrive at the academy.”
