Sins of St. Augustine

Chapter 11

Elias

Cassian didn’t speak. Which was weird. He always had something smart to say—some smug little comment or obnoxious one-liner that made me want to throttle him.

Instead, he just said, “Come here.”
I stepped up beside him. And there it was.

St. Augustine Academy – Class of 1994

He turned the page.

The class photo stared back at us. Rows of awkward haircuts, outdated uniforms, and forced smiles. Everyone looked like they’d either just swallowed a bee or committed tax fraud.

He turned the page again.

There were three guys—maybe seventeen, eighteen. Smiling like they had the world in their pockets. One had his arms slung around the other two, grinning wide. The caption underneath was scrawled in faded ink:

Summer of legends.
Edward Moreau. Antonio James. Julian Crowe.

Cassian pointed at the one in the middle. “That’s my father.”

I blinked. “And mine.” I jabbed a finger at the second guy—Antonio. My stomach flipped.

We stared at the page in silence. The air felt heavier.

“Who the hell is Julian Crowe?” I muttered.

Cassian didn’t answer.

Before either of us could say another word, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Cassian snapped the book shut, shoved it under his jacket, and grabbed my wrist. “We’re leaving.”

“Won’t your father notice that you just kidnapped his ancient yearbook?” I whispered, nearly tripping on the steps as we hurried down them.

Cassian didn’t look back. “He won’t.”

“Cool,” I said. “Love the blind confidence. Super comforting.”

We slipped down the stairwell like ghosts—or, more accurately, like two idiots with stolen evidence and no exit strategy.

“Where are we even going?” I hissed as we turned another corner.

“Somewhere my father doesn’t have a thousand cameras.”

“Again. Very comforting.”

He yanked open a door that led outside, and cold night air hit me in the face. We darted across the courtyard, the damp grass slick under our shoes. Cassian was still holding onto the book like it might explode if he let go.

We soon reached where his car was parked under a tree. Cassian yanked the passenger door open for me, amd shoved me in.

“Dude—what the hell?” I snapped, nearly eating the dashboard. “You throw me in like I’m a sack of potatoes—”

“A very talkative potato,” Cassian said, slamming the door shut behind me. "And, I don’t have time for your drama, darling. We have to get out of here and get some food "

“Shouldn’t we go back to school?”

He started the car like, “No. It’s the weekend. No one cares.”

I raised a brow. “Not even about two students disappearing off campus?”

“Not about you, no. Me—yes.” He glanced over, smug. “Because I’m rich.”

I huffed. “Yeah, I got that, thanks."

He smiled.

Rich bastard.