“The school was . . . hard. They wanted to create soldiers. Most of the Conks—that’s what they called us—were human. Few of us shifters. One kid’s dad was friends with mine, so that’s probably where mine got the idea. They preached being a unit. Being the same. As long as you were rich enough to pay the tuition, of course, and would keep to your own—support your own—when you got out.”

Alexei talked so rarely—and never for this long—that Lulu and I had gone silent and still to watch and listen. Connor, who’d apparently heard the story before, continued to eat.

“The upperclassmen still picked their allies, their enemies. They didn’t like me, but they respected my money. So the hazing was relatively minor. Locking us in rooms during dining hall hours, so we ate whatever cheap crap we could find. Hot sauce made it better.”

And that, I thought, explained a lot about Alexei.

“A couple of them beat the shit out of a maintenance guy for getting a scratch on someone’s car. He’d been taking down an old tree, and the car was parked illegally. School fired the worker, who probably needed the job, because why else put up with us assholes?”

“What about the ones who hurt him?” I asked.

Alexei met my gaze and his eyes were hard. Alexei often seemed stoic, but I wasn’t sure I’d seen him this coldly furious. “They paid off the damage to the car, apologized for the trouble.”

“Take care of your own,” Connor said grimly, and Alexei nodded.

“None of them needed caring for. Not with the privilege they had. But yeah. That was the attitude.”

“Is that when you left?” Lulu asked.

“It was the last time,” he said. “I was gone nearly two weeks before they found me. I’m still not sure how, but wouldn’t be surprised if a Conk ratted me out. I happened to pass by the maintenance worker’s house when they hauled me back. He was outside playing with his kids. Didn’t look defeated. Still bruised, even two weeks later, but carrying on.” He shrugged. “I figured he was as good a model as any. So I decided that’s what I’d do.

“I got through school. Did a little damage to the assholes on the way up when I could, of course. I knew the name, the degree, would serve me in the long run, even if I hated it then. So I learned to stick it out. Take the lessons I could.” His cold smile went absolutely feral. “I saw to it that the local district attorney—he was friends with the maintenance worker—got a whiff whenever one of the assholes pulled something. They all left with criminal records their parents couldn’t expunge.”

“You learned to handle yourself,” I said. “And to takes steps when you could.”

He looked up at me, nodded. “I learned about loyalty. And hot sauce.”

Silently, Lulu got up, went to the bar, and spoke to the waitress. When she came back, she was bearing another small bottle of red sauce.