It was easy to feel more like himself again with purpose.

Davyn didn't like where this was going, but he was well aware that he had more than one reason now to seriously consider Harkin's offer.

Alleviating Millie's fears was one thing. Saving Ron's life was another. Then there was the general outrage against Harkin's activities, which had stirred the activists within and around the school into action.

The general outrage against the dealings had been fueled once Karen was arrested for possession of dangerous drugs. Now that the school year was over, the commotion had died down considerably, but there were still a few people camping next to signs reading "Free Saint Agnes of drugs" on the lawn and reading books.

Summer school was in session, and there were activists there, too.

Davyn watched the three people silently protesting as he went inside the school building. It was still open as the teachers got ready for vacation and organized their activities for the summer. A part of him knew he should find coach Davis and return the key to the gym, but it gave him access to a place he might need later, so he kept it.

What he needed now, however, was trouble.

As he walked the empty hallways to his once-locker, he ran over the plan once again. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. And the first thing he had to do was find out just how deep Harkin's operations went and how many people he had running around, selling drugs and extorting people.

Then, he'd figure out what to do with the resources and how to best organize them in a mutually beneficial manner. Even if he didn't like what Harkin was doing, he was very aware that he couldn't destroy him. Maybe just redirect his negative impact in places where they wouldn't touch Ron, Millie, or anyone else he might care about. Easy.

Less easy was finding Harkin when he didn't want to be found. Except in Davyn's case, he knew that his new subordinate needed him. And he wasn't wrong. Once he reached his locker, he only had to wait for five minutes before Harkin appeared from around the corner. He was alone this time, hands deep inside his pockets.

"Hello. Nicholas," Davyn said, the moment the guy approached. "I heard you didn't graduate this year either. Tell me, how much longer do you think they'll keep you here?"

"What's it to you?" Harkin snarled, stopping far enough to avoid getting punched in the face. Maybe he wasn't that stupid after all.

"Those people holding signs outside don't seem too happy with you."

"Fuck them. As long as my family keeps pumping money into this school, I'll be here for as long as I want."

And here was the first problem Davyn wanted to eliminate. For Millie, as well as for anyone else suffering at this asshole's hand.

"You could do so much more productive things with your time."

His eyes narrowed. "Such as?"

"Such as moving out into the real world." Davyn leaned his back against the row of lockers and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Are you here to mock me?"

He quirked a brow. "Mock you? I'm here to discuss your proposition."

Harkin's demeanor changed at once, and he pulled his hands out of his pockets and took a step closer. "Don't you dare dangle that it my face."

"Is it dangling if I'm actually willing to do it?"

He didn't bite, not yet, and it made Davyn realize that he might be a valuable ally down this road after all.

"What made you change your mind?" Harkin asked, his voice even.

"I thought it over, and I came to the conclusion that this could be mutually beneficial. But, if I'm to take this risk and help you out, there will be rules."

"Look," Harking cut him off. "I've been thinking about it, too, and yes, it would be beneficial or whatever if you came aboard. But I'm not the type of man you can use as your doormat."

Davyn grinned. "My dear Nicholas, we are planning a partnership. I, by no means, wish to do this alone. I don't care enough for it. You will still be mostly in charge, and strategy will always be discussed."

He'd said the right words because Harkin's entire body relaxed. He'd obviously thought he'd have to become a regular henchman, and it didn't sit well with him. Instead, he got to keep his prestige, and the concession got Davyn right where he wanted to be.

"Do you really mean that?"

"What reason would I have to dangle a carrot under your nose? You're the one trying to get me on board."

"Yeah, good point. But what you're saying..." Harking rubbed his chin.

Yes, it sounded a bit too good to be true, and it came with a price. "I think it's important to settle how this is going to work before we actually begin, don't you?" Harking nodded, so Davyn continued. "I expect this to be a collaboration. I also expect that Snitch Gravel will be the true leader of the operation, so if we disagree on certain aspects, my word will prevail."

Harkin didn't seem too pleased with this, but nodded, obviously aware of how a chain of command worked.

"As I mentioned, you will have your freedom. You will also have my guidance. I will take the role you need me to in order to bring your... business to the next level. But if we are to begin this, you must know there will be three non-negotiable rules."

"Okay, what are they?"

Davyn shook his head, a small grin on his face. "Never agree to anything before hearing it first. But this is a lesson, not a rule. Rule number one. I require absolute loyalty. You try to screw me over, and you're dead. Everyone under you should also be aware of this rule.

"Rule number two. Don't forget it was you who came to me and why you did it. If you feel you've learned all you can to continue on your own, you'll be gravely mistaken. And rule number three..." He pushed himself off the locker and leaned towards Harkin. "Don't ever forget that I have the power to end you. Both literally and figuratively."

Harkin took a step back and bumped against the nearest locker. There was both fear and intrigue in his eyes, and Davyn was sure he'd won. He straightened and joined his hands behind his back, a pleasant smile on his face.

"So, if you can live with these terms, I think we can shake on this."

Harkin hesitated for a moment but then reached out his hand. "That speech? Exactly what I imagine the real Snitch Gravel would say."

Davyn took his hand and shook. "I am the real Snitch Gravel." As dumb as that name sounded.

"Yes, you are... Boss."

It had a strange ring to it, one Davyn didn't dislike. But once this part was over, he became too aware of all the work he had to do.

"How organized are you?" he asked.

Harkin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Any paper trail?"

"I do have logs of sales and shit. I can't remember it all."

Davyn didn't think he would. "I expected that much. Meet me here." He pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket, one on which he'd scribbled the address of one of the office spaces his father hadn't gotten around to renting. "Bring everything you have on your operation, and we'll discuss projections for the next month."

Harking shook his head, but rather in surprise than refusal. "Where do you get all this stuff?"

Honestly? From his father. Davyn had seen him at work, how meticulous he was about everything, how in control, always know where everyone was and how they were doing. Sirius had drilled leadership skills into him since he was a young boy. The thought of how his father would feel about how he'd chosen to put his teachings to use almost made him cringe. It didn't matter anymore. His dad was dead, and he was alone.

♣️

Davyn hadn't been wrong. After their father had died, Freider only cared about the money, not the business itself. It still ran, the existing properties selling and bringing more money into their accounts. But without new developments, it would soon dry out. Davyn was not going to let that happen, so he'd poured over the documents, spoken to his father's VP, and quietly taken over the business from the shadows.

Freider already got his hands on Ron's part, too, as well as their mother's, and Davyn needed a steady flow of cash, because what he had inherited wouldn't last forever. Plus, if Freider and Bill didn't plan on actually looking after the business, why should they profit from it? It turned out it was fairly easy. Sirius only decided what the next best investment might be, and his people took care of it and sent in well-drafted reports for approval. Which left Davyn wondering. What did his dad do all day?

The thought plagued him as he pulled over in the parking space closest to his new office. Sirius had obviously had a lot of free time. Deserved free time, but time he couldn't account for. Was he actually doing something else on the side? The one important thing Davyn was supposed to be a part of as well? They were supposed to work together, but by the way his father spoke, it was obvious he didn't mean the real estate business.

All his life, he'd taken what his father said as fact. No questions beyond what he provided, no crazy theories because soon enough, he would know. Why hadn't he ever asked? Because it was now clear as day that this side thing Sirius had going on could very well be the cause of his death.

It ignited a new curiosity that could no longer be quenched by the distraction that was Millie.

The moment he'd left Harkin behind and got back into his car, he took out his notepad from the glove compartment and started scribbling down everything he had to do. He'd started his planning the moment he'd left the house, Ron's scoffing voice still ringing in his ears.

Yes, Millie was gone, and he had to fill his time with something useful. Something he couldn't exactly do with her there. Fix her worries, fix Ron's bad choices, fix things for loads of strangers who wouldn't live in fear of Nicholas Harkin. He could turn this into a good thing.

But for that to happen, he had to plan everything meticulously. He'd entered this game, and there was no room for fuckups. So after writing down that he needed to go to the police about his father, Davyn shoved the notepad back and drove home.

It didn't cause him great pleasure to be back there so quickly, but he needed something in particular that he couldn't get at his place. Believable adult clothes.

The house was empty as he stepped in, and he wondered if Freider had already sent Ron off to camp. He hadn't asked when it would be starting, but knowing his older brother, he would've shipped their baby brother off as soon as possible.

I should check on Mom as well.

Or at least ask Freider about it. As cowardly as it was, he hadn't had the courage to visit her again after his birthday. A part of him couldn't take her confusing him for his father again.

Making another mental note, he headed up the stairs and into his parents' bedroom. For some reason, he'd expected to find it just like he'd imagined it would have been the night of his father's death. Sheets disheveled, personal belonging strewn on the nightstand.

The room was clean. Their housekeeper had come by for another week before Freider had fired her. Still, there was a thick layer of dust, which made it clear that no one had entered that room for months.

"Fucking Freider," he mumbled. He'd call their old housekeeper over just for one day to tidy the place up. Just for the sake of their parents' memory.

Another thing to add to his list. Until then, he'd come here for a reason.

Ignoring the knot in his stomach at being in that room, he headed for his parents' closet. If he wanted to play crime lord, he had to look the part. So he needed a suit. After a quick sweep of the options, he settled on black. It was classic, safe, and dark, so more intimidating than all the other options. The shirt choice, however was a lot more difficult.

He wanted to go for something simple, like white, but he realized he'd look too much like a waiter. Choosing black would make it look like he was going to a funeral and he needed to keep a form of balance. He stopped once he reached a scarlet shirt.

His mother's words swirled around his head. You've always looked so good in that color. The memory made him wince, but he still couldn't move past it. Scarlet and black were the colors of his basketball gear. The colors of his school. It seemed more than fitting that he would choose that combination, so he pulled the shirt off the rack.

Feeling worse with every passing second he spent in that room, Davyn sucked it up and tried the suit on. His father had been a little shorter than him, but broader, so the final fit was a good one. He could totally pull it off, at least for the time being, until he bought his own suits.

As he stared himself in the mirror, he flattened his hair and glared. Yep, this could be Snitch Gravel. He rubbed his jaw, thinking he might need a bit of a shave since he hadn't had one in a couple of days, but froze.

If his plan were to work, he needed to look as old as possible, and facial hair was definitely going to help with that. So this was it. The final version of what he had to be in order to get the rest of the plan done.

Davyn changed back into his clothes, packed up the suits, and headed down the stairs. He was almost at the door when noise coming from the kitchen stopped him. Mere seconds later, Freider stepped out, a plate in his hand.

He jumped the moment he noticed Davyn and flipped the plate, tossing a sandwich against his chest.

"Stop doing that!" he snarled.

"Doing what?" Davyn asked, keeping his voice bored.

"Creeping around like a ghost. Didn't you move out?" Freider snapped.

"I did, but I still need to pick stuff up from time to time." Davyn narrowed his eyes. "This is still my house too, even if I no longer live here full time."

Freider opened his mouth but closed it again, most likely realizing that he meant in the legal sense and he had nothing he could say to that.

"Good riddance," he said and took a bite out of his sandwich.

"Where's Ron?"

"Off to camp."

"How's Mom?"

Freider raised his eyebrows as if the question was somewhat surprising. It shouldn't be, but Davyn couldn't deny that he did avoid thinking about his mother as much as possible.

"She's actually better. She recognizes me and, at times, seems aware of what happened."

Painful hope nestled in Davyn's chest. "Are you planning to bring her home?" That would definitely solve the Ron issue.

"When she's all better, of course. For now, the doctors recommend that she stay there. But once they give the green light, you can bet your ass I'm bringing her home."

Davyn just nodded because he fully agreed with this. And if there was hope, maybe things didn't have to go to hell after all. First, there was Millie. Now his Mom.

"Thanks."

"For what?" Freider asked. "I didn't do anything."

He had a point, but Davyn was still grateful for the good news. "I'll see you around."

"Yeah, whatever."

The answer reminded Davyn that Freider was only bearable in small doses, so he headed out. He had a meeting with a former drug lord after all.

♣️

Dressed in his suit and behind a large desk, Davyn was a different man. It was obvious from the way Harkin glanced at him from the other side of the glossy wooden surface.

It was with a combination of fear, disbelief, and admiration. And through his careful demeanor, Davyn could read the sense of pride. Harkin was patting himself on the back for choosing right.

Davyn was cursing himself for getting into this whole thing with this particular moron.

"Your record keeping skills are dreadful," he mumbled, shuffling the pages he'd been reading.

"This was always only to remind myself of things I already knew," Harkin said, leaning back in his chair. He nodded towards Davyn. "I like the get-up. Looks legit."

"I live for your approval," Davyn drawled. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and leaned back, too. "We have a lot of work to do before we can get to the next step of the plan."

Harkin frowned. "That was not the deal."

"Instant implementation of the second step was not part of the deal. Should I remind you that the deal concerned cuts, loyalty, and you remembering why I'm on this side of the desk and you're on the other?"

He gritted his teeth but fortunately stayed silent because Davyn really didn't have time for his shit and didn't want to get the suit dirty.

"What do you have in mind, then?"

"First off and very important. I don't exist."

Harkin raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't the whole point of this for Snitch Gravel to actually exist?"

"Yes. Snitch Gravel. I'm Snitch Gravel. Which is why everything I am beyond that doesn't exist." It was so obvious.

Understanding dawned in Harkin's face. "Gotcha."

"Which is why my advice is that you cease to exist as well. That everyone who works with us does."

"It's not that easy for us. Snitch Gravel was built that way, but we..."

"You can fade out of existence. Code names. Just like... Snitch Gravel." God, that name sucked. He would've changed it if it didn't imply starting everything from the ground up again. He needed the reputation for this to work.

"Right. Well, I sort of already have one."

Davyn raised his eyebrows. "Let's hear it."

"Well, it's... It's Baron."

Not that stupid considering that this was the man who came up with Snitch Gravel. He let out a noncommittal sound and focused on the papers again.

"Good enough. Whatever you get up to starting now, you'll be acting as Baron. Nicholas Harkin needs to get out of Saint Agnes and sort his shit out."

"Yeah, fine. Makes sense."

Of course it did. It was shocking that he hadn't thought of that before. "I'll also need the men to pick out code names. And I'll want to see them."

The color seemed to drain from Harkin's face. "See them?"

"Yes. They need to see Snitch Gravel. Know he exists. And I'll need to meet them. I'm turning this into something real."

He admitted defeat this time as well. And when they discussed strategy regarding recruitment and contact with buyers and suppliers. And once they discussed their place on the underground market.

By the time the meeting was over, Davyn's head pounded, and Harkin looked very satisfied with his life choices.

"You're very good at this," he noticed.

"And you're very lucky your family's reputation protected you, or you would've been arrested or shot a million years ago, you sloppy bastard."

"Well, not anymore."

"Not anymore," Davyn agreed.

"I'll set up your interviews with the men."  Harkin stood but hesitated. "Do you want me to tell them anything about you?"

"No. I don't exist. The only thing they'll see is Snitch Gravel."

Harkin nodded. "Understood. Goodnight, boss."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning. Baron."

Harkin grinned and let himself out. Davyn let out a long sigh. It had been easy to sink into the Snitch Gravel persona, but now that he was alone, his chest ached, and he could feel an impending migraine.

It had been weeks since he had as much as a headache. While with Millie, he slept like a baby. Now, without her, he didn't feel like going back to his place. The bed was depressingly empty and cold without her.

Instead, he looked out the window behind his desk at the city lights. His vision blurred, and it looked as if everything was on fire. The image was calming, purifying.

"This was one hell of a day, darling," he mumbled. "And you're not here to hear about it."

It was better, he knew that. While she was gone, he could put this business in order so that by the time she returned, he could merely monitor it from a distance.

Yes, this was a good thing. Her absence.

And yet, with Snitch Gravel no longer needed, Davyn ached for Millie.

♣️♣️♣️

I actually enjoy writing Snitch Gravel. Reminds me of my roots for this story. And now you get to see how he came to be.

You are also getting a peak into details which will be implemented into the new version of the series. Starting with changing Nicholas Harkin's dreadful code name, lol.

I hope you're still enjoying the story! Leave me your thoughts.