CHAPTER SEVEN — RESPECT EARNED, RESPECT TESTED

Respect in St. Peter’s wasn’t given.
It was currency.
It was armour.
It was survival.

By the end of the week, Dante had earned more of it than he ever intended.

He didn’t notice it at first.
Not until he walked into the canteen Friday lunchtime and half the Year 10 boys paused mid-argument like the referee had entered the ring.

One nudged another. “Move aside, man, Mr Reid’s coming.”

Another whispered, “Safe, sir,” as he walked past.

A girl who’d cussed a teacher out that morning nodded at him, respectful. Soft. Almost shy.

Destiny shouted from across the hall, “Oi, don’t chat to Mr Reid sideways — he’s actually cool!”

Even the three boys he’d “taxed” stood straighter, quieter, like they’d been reshaped.

LD drifted near the vending machine, smirking.
“Told you, big man. You’re becoming St. Peter’s folklore already.”

Dante ignored him.

The building hummed strangely.
Lights flickered weakly.
Something unseen watched him from corners.

LD’s presence was sharper today — more solid.

Something was building.

But right now, Dante’s focus was on one boy.

Owen.

It happened last period.

A static-filled call cracked from a teacher’s walkie:

“Er—support needed. Year Ten toilets… possible equipment situation.”

Dante was the first to arrive.

He pushed the door open gently.

Owen stood by the sinks.
Pale.
Shaking.
Hand half in his blazer pocket.

“Owen,” Dante said softly. “Hands where I can see them.”

“Sir, I didn’t— I wasn’t— please—”

“Slow,” Dante murmured. “Just move slow.”

Owen pulled out his hand.

Then reached back into his pocket… and lifted out a small black-handled knife.

Dante’s chest tightened.

Owen’s voice cracked.
“I’m not— I’m not gonna use it, sir. They said they’d jump me after school. I didn’t know what to do…”

Dante stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Just present.

“Owen,” he said quietly.
“Give. Me. The knife.”

Owen stared at him through wet lashes—
then placed the blade into Dante’s palm.

The boy collapsed into sobs.

Dante caught him, guiding him to the radiator.

“It’s okay,” Dante said gently. “You did the right thing. You’re safe.”

LD leaned against a stall wall, unusually serious.

“This place is rotting, bro. And you’re the only one trying to clean it.”

Dante ignored him.

Owen shook uncontrollably.

“Sir… please don’t tell the police… my mum will lose her mind—”

“I’m not calling police,” Dante said.
“On one condition.”

Owen sniffed, nodding.

“You tell me who threatened you.”

The boy stiffened instantly.

“No… sir… please… no…”

Dante softened. “Tomorrow then. First thing. But you will tell me.”

Owen nodded weakly.

As footsteps approached, Dante slipped the knife inside his jacket.

Aaliyah burst in first, breathless.
Her eyes softened at the sight of Dante comforting Owen.

But Hale—

Hale’s eyes locked on Dante.
Then on the outline of the knife.

His face twisted into rage.

“Mr Reid,” Hale snapped.
“Step. Outside. Now.”

Hale dragged him out and slammed the door behind them.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Hale hissed.

“Stopping a kid from ruining his life,” Dante said calmly.

“You confiscated a WEAPON without authorisation! No witness! No protocol!”

“He trusted me.”

“He is manipulative,” Hale spat.

“Don’t call him that,” Dante said quietly.

Aaliyah stepped out.
“Principal Hale — Dante prevented a crisis.”

Hale glared. “You are an observer, Ms Clarke. Not his lawyer.”

“That boy was terrified,” she replied. “And Dante did what none of us managed to do.”

Hale’s jaw clenched.

“You are on thin ice, Mr Reid,” Hale hissed.
“Very thin.”

He stormed off when a student ran up yelling, “Sir! Mr Kade needs you in his office!”

Dante froze.

LD beside him whispered, “There it is.”

Later, Dante found Owen alone on the stairwell, hugging his bag to his chest.

“Owen,” Dante said softly. “Talk to me.”

The boy trembled.

“It… it wasn’t students.”

“I know,” Dante said. “Who was it?”

Owen swallowed painfully.

“It was… Mr Kade.”

Dante went still.

Owen continued in a flood of guilt and fear:

“He… he gets me to sell vapes… and cigarettes. Stuff he confiscates. Says I’m useful. Says if I stop, he’ll get me kicked out. He said he’ll get my mum’s benefits checked. He knows people. Sir… he said he’ll ruin me quietly.”

Dante’s teeth ground together.

“That ends now,” Dante said.

Owen looked terrified.
“Sir, please, don’t go near him— he’ll ruin YOU—”

“Let him try,” Dante said.

LD appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Told you,” he murmured. “Kade’s a sickness. And sickness spreads.”

Dante left school late, long after the sun dipped behind the estate blocks.
Cold air filled his lungs.
The sky was purple, heavy.

“Oh Boy… I know where you’re going,” LD said quietly.

Dante didn’t deny it.

Mr Kade drove into his perfect cul-de-sac with the smugness of a man who believed he’d won.

He stepped inside.

“Darling, I’m home—”

He stopped dead.

Because Dante Reid was sitting in his favourite armchair, one leg crossed over the other, drinking tea from his mug.

Kade’s wife stood nearby, smiling warmly.

“Hi honey, Your friend Dante popped by. Biscuit?”

Kade nearly collapsed.

Dante smiled politely. “Lovely house. Lovely tea.”

Kade’s wife beamed.
“I’ll leave you two to chat.”

As she vanished into the kitchen, Kade whispered:

“How—how did you get into my house?”

“Door was open,” Dante said smoothly.

“That’s IMPOSSIBLE.”

Dante raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“Get out of my house,” he hissed, voice shaky.

Dante stood slowly — moving with a predator’s softness, like he was made of coiled steel.

“No.”

Kade backed into the hallway wall, hands shaking.

“What do you want from me?” he snapped.

Dante stepped forward until they were inches apart.

“Not much,” Dante said quietly.
“Just a private chat.”

He opened a side door — Kade’s small study.
A tidy room with certificates on the wall and a motivational poster saying

LEAD BY INTEGRITY.

Dante flicked the light on.

Inside the room stood two men.

Not thugs.
Not muscleheads.

Just calm, controlled, quietly dangerous men.
Men Dante grew up with.

They nodded at him respectfully.

Men Dante grew up with — silent, steady, carved from the same streets that shaped him.

One leaned on the desk.
The other sat casually in Kade’s office chair.

Both looked up when Dante entered.

Kade’s throat closed.

“Allow me to introduce you,” Dante said as he slid black gloves onto his hands.
The leather snapped softly.

Kade nearly fainted.

“These are old friends.
Good men.
Smart men.
Men who can find anyone.”

He tilted his head.

“Even you.”

Kade’s legs nearly gave out.

“You—you can’t just—this is—this is illegal—”

“Oh relax,” Dante said.
“No one’s touching you.”

One of Dante’s friends chuckled. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Kade whimpered.

Dante stepped closer until he could smell the fear coming off Kade in waves.

“You see how easy it is to find people… Mr…
Ka…
Kade, was it?”

Kade nodded furiously, sweat dripping.

Dante’s voice dropped to ice.
“You’re a smart man.
So let me talk to you like a smart man.”

He leaned closer.

“You ever threaten Owen again…
you ever touch a child’s life for your own gain…
you ever use your position to scare kids—”

Dante’s eyes turned to fire.

“I’ll be your shadow.
Everywhere you go.
Every room you enter.
Every lie you tell.
You’ll see me.”

Kade shook violently.

“You—you can’t—stop us, theres teacher doing worse than—”

Dante cut him off by lifting a finger.

Dante leaned in.

“I won’t need to knock next time.”

Kade shook uncontrollably.

The room felt smaller.

Colder.

Dante straightened.

“You’re going to resign,” Dante said.
“Tonight.
A quiet letter.
No fuss.
No drama.”

“And if I don’t—?”

Dante’s old friend stepped closer, smiling politely.
“You will.”

Kade’s knees buckled.

Kade nodded so hard his glasses slipped.

Dante removed the gloves calmly.

“Tell your wife the tea was lovely. I recommend leaving the brew to sit just a minute longer to allow the leaves to settle”

“ Goodnight Mr Kade”

He left the house without a backwards glance.

“Have fun at crafts club” His mate whispered as he patted him on the shoulder

By Monday morning, whispers raced through the staffroom.

“Did you hear?”
“Kade? Gone.”
“Resigned?”
“Effective immediately.”
“No way—why so sudden?”

Aaliyah found Dante, eyes wide.

“You… you didn’t…” she whispered.

Dante folded the printed resignation email.

“Im just a teacher”

Aaliyah’s eyes softened. Knowing there had to be more to the truth.

Across the room, Hale glared at Dante like he’d committed a crime.

“You’re being watched, Mr Reid,” Hale muttered.
“Be careful.”

Dante didn’t respond.

Because LD stood beside him — almost solid, almost real — whispering quietly:

“One rot’s gone.
But the real infection?
It’s still in the walls.”

The corridor lights flickered.

And Dante understood:

This wasn’t the end of the storm.

It was only the beginning.