NOAH
Every breath felt like knives twisting between my ribs.
The bruises from yesterday had settled deep, turning purple and angry. My face throbbed with every heartbeat—swollen jaw, split lip, a cut above my eyebrow that pulled tight when I moved. I looked like I'd lost a fight with a truck.
Mom was still away for two more days. Small mercy. I had time to hide the damage and come up with a lie she might buy.
My only clean option was the school's athletic track pants and a plain Westfield hoodie. Not regulation, but better than showing up in yesterday's bloodstained wreckage.
Marcus's Honda honked from the curb. I climbed in carefully, every shift of my body sending fresh protests through my ribs.
He glanced at me, jaw tight, then jerked his thumb toward the back seat.
"Spare uniform. Pressed and ready."
The perfectly folded blazer, shirt, and pants stared back at me. My throat tightened.
"Marcus, I can't accept—"
"Before you start the pride routine," he interrupted, voice low and firm, "just take it. You're not a trust fund kid who can replace uniforms every time Roman decides to play hero. Let me help this once."
Shame burned hot in my chest. I pushed the clothes back toward him.
"I'll figure it out. I always do. I'm not a charity case."
Marcus's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue further.
"Fine. Your call."
The drive to campus was thick with heavy silence.
The moment I stepped through the gates, the stares hit like spotlights.
Whispers trailed me down the hallway. Phones angled my way. Fingers pointed.
"There he is."
"Look at his face…"
"Scholarship trash got exactly what he deserved."
I kept my head down and walked faster, hoodie pulled low, trying to disappear.
The second I entered the room, the air changed.
Seraphina Voss sat front and center, looking every inch the untouchable queen. Her uniform hugged her figure perfectly, the black silk tie stark against her pale skin. Dark hair cascaded in smooth waves. Burgundy lips curved the instant her emerald eyes locked onto me.
"Callaghan," she called out, her voice carrying across the room like velvet over steel. "Come sit next to me."
Every head in the classroom turned.
My stomach dropped.
"I'm… fine in the back," I muttered, already feeling the weight of dozens of eyes pinning me in place.
Her smile widened, slow and dangerous. "I insist. After yesterday's little misunderstanding, I'd like to make amends."
Misunderstanding.
The word tasted like poison. As if Roman and his friends hadn't dragged me behind the shed and turned me into their personal punching bag while she watched the video.
I wanted to bolt. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around and walk out.
But refusing her publicly would only paint a bigger target on my back.
My feet betrayed me, carrying me forward.
I slid into the seat beside her, heart hammering painfully against my bruised ribs.
Up close, she was overwhelming.
Her perfume wrapped around me—expensive, floral, jasmine mixed with something softer and more intoxicating. It lingered in the air between us, impossible to ignore. Her skin looked flawless under the fluorescent lights, almost glowing. Those emerald eyes studied me with cool, predatory amusement, like I was an interesting new toy she'd decided to play with.
"See?" she murmured sweetly, voice low enough that only I could hear. "Isn't this much better?"
I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe without my ribs screaming.