Oakley.
As I walk toward leadership class with the seniors, each step I take is hesitant, knowing that Eva should be there. I haven’t seen her since we had sex, as she didn’t turn up for our class on Tuesday. It’s now Friday, and I can only hope she turns up; otherwise, I’m going to hunt her down. I can’t stand her avoiding me.
My stomach flips as I notice her instantly, sitting in her usual seat, doodling on her notepad as she so often does before class. I can’t help the smile that twists onto my lips the moment I see her, which both irritates and confuses me.
I clear my throat and enter the room. “Morning, class,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on Eva, who, despite blushing a pretty crimson, doesn’t meet my gaze. “Today, I want to discuss five different leadership styles.” I turn to the board behind my desk and grab my marker pen, writing five words on the board.
Authoritarian
Participative
Delegative
Transactional
Transformational
I turn back to the class. “Which are the most common in the crime world?”
Natalya’s hand shoots up, as always. “Authoritarian.”
For once, Natalya isn’t right. “Not exactly no. You would think so, but not the most common strategy.” I search the faces watching me. “Does anyone else know the answer?”
To my surprise, Eva puts her hand up. “I believe delegative is the most common strategy since leaders don’t do the work themselves. They delegate.”
I clap my hands together once and nod. “Exactly right.” I tilt my head and walk around the front of my desk, struggling to keep my eyes off of Eva. “Can anyone tell me the advantages and disadvantages of delegative leadership?”
Natalya puts her hand up. “Yes, Natalya.”
“The advantages are that the leader can spend time on the important workings of the organization while his or her men handle the day-to-day running.” She runs a hand through her hair. “However, it can lead to the people below believing they have more power than they do and may make it difficult for the leader to keep proper tabs on his or her soldiers.” She shrugs. “In that case, it is a perfect breeding ground for disloyalty and betrayal.”
“Thank you, Natalya. That’s exactly right.” I grab the textbook off my desk and hold it up. “All of you turn to page one-hundred and fifty-five and read the five pages on the different leadership strategies.” I push off my desk and take my seat on the other side. “Then, I want a three-page essay on the leadership strategy you would choose and the reason behind your choice.”
A few pupils grumble, but I ignore it as everyone begrudgingly pulls out their textbooks and finds the page. Eva, who is still a pretty shade of pink, won’t look up at me as she focuses all her attention on the task at hand.
I lean back in my chair and watch her, utterly captivated by the girl who broke my resolve earlier this week. Eva has made me question everything I believed I knew for the past five years.
A knock at the classroom door draws my attention, and my brow furrows when I see my secretary, Melissa, standing there. I signal for her to come in. “What is it?” I ask.
She glances around nervously. “You should see for yourself.”
I glance at my class, who focus on us rather than on their work. “Get back to work,” I growl. “I’ll be back shortly.”
I stand, following my cryptic secretary into the hall.
“Melissa,” I hiss, once we’re out of earshot of my students. “Tell me what is going on.”
Her brow furrows. “It’s a student.” She swallows. “He’s dead, and there’s no sign of who did it.”
“Fuck,” I growl, marching down the corridor. “Where?”
She nods toward the boys’ bathroom. “In there.”
I march in and hold my hand over my mouth the moment I do. The boy in question is, in fact, Henley Anderson, the son of Jackson Anderson from Oklahoma. We believe that they’re currently embroiled in a rather heated war with the Russians on their turf, which means this was the Orlov Bratva. The leader’s son is also in attendance here, Stepan Orlov. Henley was only fifteen years old. Stepan is seventeen years old.
My stomach churns at the sight in front of me. The blood and gore are indescribable. They have gouged his eyes out of his head and fixed his mouth open with a device. “Inform the family and get Ainsley here to clear it up.”
This isn’t the first death we’ve had to deal with here, but it’s the first one we’ve had in two years. We have brutal fights that end with badly injured students, but death is luckily something we avoid more often than not. However, on this occasion, it’s clear that nothing would stop the Orlov Bratva from having their revenge on the Anderson family.
“Of course,” Michelle replies, looking rather green. “I need to get out of here.” She whirls around and heads out into the corridor. Her retching fills the air as I stand there, almost frozen by the scene in front of my eyes.
I sigh heavily, shaking my head. The craziest thing is that Stepan Orlov will get away with it. He’s the heir of the Bratva in Oklahoma. He has every right to exercise his powers where the fuck he wants, and as the staff who are teaching him how to be the most brutal leader possible, how could we possibly punish him for being exactly that?
It is one thing I hate most about this academy. The darkness we nurture and inspire only sets them free to terrorize this country. Ironically, I fled this kind of world, unable to accept the immorality of the part I was due to play, only to end up teaching the exact people I despised.
I walk out into the corridor. “Is Ainsley on his way?” I ask.
Michelle nods, clearing up the sick off the floor. “Yes, he’ll be here in five minutes.”
“Good. In the meantime, don’t allow anyone in there.” I walk off.
“Where are you going?” Michelle calls after me.
“Back to class. Ainsley will handle it.”
Ainsley is our fixer, who we call in during incidents like this. A man whose expertise is in clearing up and hiding messes so that it appears like they never happened, as well as handling the parents.