Sins of the Elite

Chapter Six

Axel

The rest of summer slipped by like sand through my fingers.

Braxton and Calyx found rhythm in the noise. They fell into a routine like it was second nature—early workouts, Rosewood meetings, family obligations. It didn’t mean they weren’t grieving. It just meant they were better at pretending they weren’t.

Me? I couldn’t pretend.

Not really.

I filled the nights with distraction—loud music, dim rooms, alcohol I didn’t taste, lips I didn’t remember. Parties blurred together. I kept letting strangers into my bed and then forgetting their names before the sun came up.

But nothing stuck. Nothing filled the hollow left behind.

I tried to be brave for my brothers. Tried to keep my head up, keep my voice steady, keep my hands from shaking whenever someone mentioned Mom in the past tense. But it was getting harder every day.

Some mornings I woke up in a panic, her name caught in my throat like glass.

Other days I didn’t wake up at all until it was already dark again.

School was coming fast. Rosewood sent its usual barrage of polished emails and gold-sealed letters. Uniform expectations. Dorm confirmations. Orientation schedules.

I didn’t read any of them.

One morning, Bash called me. Said we needed to go to Rosewood in person.

“They shut my account down,” he said. “Won’t let me pay online.”

“What?”

“Something’s wrong. I can feel it. I’m not waiting for a letter to tell me I’m screwed.”

So I told him I’d go with him.

Of course I did.

Rosewood Academy sat like a crown on the edge of the hills—ancient stone cloaked in ivy, tall black gates carved with Latin phrases no one cared to translate. Even in summer, it looked untouchable.

We pulled up in my car. Bash was quiet the entire drive, his jaw tight.

“I’ll wait outside,” I said as we approached the main office.

“No,” he said. “You come in with me.”

“Bash—”

“Whatever they have to say, they can say it to both of us.”

I didn’t argue.

Inside, the air was cold. Sharp. It always smelled faintly of expensive leather and old books. Like secrets and pride.

The front admin recognized me right away and gave me a tight, polished smile.

“Mr. Vaughn.”

“Here with Bash Vale,” I said. “He has a meeting with Headmistress Kingsley.”

She nodded and picked up the phone. “She’s expecting you.”

Headmistress Astrielle Kingsley was everything Rosewood wanted its students to become—poised, powerful, and unshakably composed. She rose from behind her desk with effortless grace, her sunglow-toned skin glowing beneath the soft light, honey-brown hair swept into a sleek twist, and eyes sharp enough to command a room yet warm enough to soften a blow. She was beautiful in the kind of way that made you sit straighter. Not because she asked you to—because she didn’t have to.

“Mr. Vale. Mr. Vaughn.”

Bash didn’t sit. “Let’s get to it.”

She motioned for us to take the seats across from her desk.

“Mr. Vale,” she began, voice calm, “as we’ve communicated previously through formal channels—”

“No,” Bash cut in. “You didn’t communicate anything. You just shut my account down and let me find out on my own.”

She didn’t flinch. “Your disciplinary record was reviewed by the board this summer. In light of your previous altercation with another student and the breach of the code of conduct, your scholarship was revoked—”

“We already knew that,” Bash snapped. “That’s not news.”

She held his gaze. “The decision went further.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, suddenly cold.

Headmistress Kingsley folded her hands tighter. “Mr. Vale’s enrollment has been terminated.”

Silence. Loud and immediate.

“You expelled me?” Bash said, voice barely controlled. “You didn’t even tell me I was expelled?”

“We attempted contact multiple times.”

“No,” he said through his teeth. “You didn’t.”

“I assure you, our process was followed.”

My pulse hammered.

“There has to be a mistake,” I said. “He’s been here for three years. He’s almost done. You’re just—what? Erasing him?”

“The board has made its decision.”

“So then what?” Bash asked, laughing bitterly. “I pay out of pocket, and I still don’t get in?”

“There are only five full scholarships,” she said. “And the one previously allocated to you has already been reassigned.”

“To who?” Bash demanded.

“I’m not at liberty to share that information.”

“So you replaced me.” His voice cracked, but only slightly. “Like I was nothing.”

“You were a scholarship recipient,” she replied evenly. “One who violated our standards.”

He stood suddenly. “You could’ve talked to me. You could’ve asked what happened.”

“You assaulted another student, Mr. Vale. That student required medical attention.”

“He insulted my dead sister.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And that is unfortunate. But actions have consequences.”

“Unless you’re a Vaughn,” Bash muttered.

I stood with him. “We’re done here.”

Headmistress Kingsley gave me a careful nod. “We’ll see you soon, Mr. Vaughn.”

But I didn’t respond.

We walked out in silence. Bash didn’t say a word until we reached the car.

He climbed into the passenger seat, slammed the door, and sat there staring straight ahead.

“She didn’t even look at me like I mattered.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I gave everything to that school,” he whispered. “I worked twice as hard. I didn’t screw around. I never missed class. But none of that meant anything.”

I turned the key, but I didn’t drive.

“You were never nothing,” I said.

He laughed quietly. “You have no idea what it’s like to walk into a room and feel like everyone’s just waiting for you to fail.”

“I do now,” I said.

He looked over, finally.

I didn’t break eye contact.

“You’re not done, Bash. You’re still one of us.”

His eyes were red, but he didn’t let a single tear fall.

For once, neither of us had to say anything more.

The war had already begun.

We didn’t go home right away.

We drove for hours. No destination. No music. Just the road and our thoughts rattling in the space between us.

Eventually, I pulled into the overlook off Crestline Ridge—the place we used to sneak beer and secrets and dreams when we were kids. The city stretched below us like glass—ugly and beautiful, the way truth always is.

Bash leaned forward, elbows on his knees, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers.

“I need to ask you something,” I said.

He didn’t look up. “If it’s about money, don’t.”

“It’s not.”

“Then what?”

“I want to bring Brax and Calyx in. We need more eyes. More reach.”

He was silent.

“I’m not saying let them fight your battles, Bash. But this?” I nodded toward the road, the world behind us. “This isn’t just about you anymore. It’s about what they’re hiding. And if they’ll do this to you, who else have they buried?”

Bash took a long drag, exhaled slow. “You think they’ll care?”

“They’ll care because it’s you,” I said. “And because it’s wrong.”

He looked at me then, eyes darker than usual. “Fine. Bring them in. But if we do this, we do it my way. No half-assed handshakes. We find out who took my place. And we make them wish they hadn’t.”

By the time we got back, Braxton and Calyx were in the upstairs lounge, half-watching something on mute and flipping through emails from Rosewood.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Braxton asked without looking up.

“Turns out,” Bash said, “I’m not going back to school.”

Both of them froze.

Calyx sat up. “What?”

“They expelled him,” I said. “Quietly. No notice. No hearing.”

“Because of the fight?” Braxton asked.

“They called it a breach of code and image standards,” I said. “Said the board voted.”

Calyx stood, eyes narrowing. “And they didn’t tell you?”

“They did,” Bash said bitterly. “Just not in a way I could read or respond to.”

“And the scholarship?” Braxton asked.

“Gone,” I said. “Already reassigned.”

“To who?” Calyx asked.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

They both looked at me.

“We’ve always known Rosewood had secrets,” I said. “But now they’re targeting one of ours. So this is the mission: we find out who took his spot. And we find out why.”

“I’m in,” Braxton said immediately.

“Same,” Calyx added. “Whoever they are, they’re not keeping it.”

Bash stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “They made their choice. Now we make ours.”

It was Braxton who pulled the list.

A few connections. A favor owed. A hacked admissions record buried deep in a system he shouldn’t have had access to.

The list of new scholarship recipients was short—only five names.

Four were returning.

One was new.

A name none of us had heard before.

Harley Rose Cruz.

“Who the hell is Harley Rose Cruz?” Bash asked, voice low.

Calyx leaned closer to the screen. “Not from here. No address in Veridian Heights. No known relatives.”

“Transferred in late,” Braxton added. “Enrollment was rushed. Scholarship approved by board override.”

“What does that even mean?” I asked.

“It means,” Bash said, “whoever she is, she’s protected.”

“And we’re going to find out why,” I said.

No one disagreed.

Because it didn’t matter who she was.

She had something that wasn’t hers.

And we were going to take it back.