SERAPHINA
The afternoon sun painted the tennis courts gold as I stood near the fence, racket still warm in my hand.
Tess leaned against the chain-link, catching her breath. "You're too nice, Sera. Way too nice. After sitting next to him in Chem, trying to help the poor scholarship kid… and this is how he thanks you?"
I hadn't done any of those things.
But I didn't correct her. Lies grew stronger when others fed them. I simply let my lips curve into the faintest smile and allowed the story to breathe on its own.
A sharp voice cut through the air from the gate.
"Why would you frame him?"
Marcus stood there, blazer slung over one shoulder, tie loose, eyes dark with fury fixed straight on me.
"Marcus."
I said his name flatly, drawing a clear line.
I glanced at Tess and Chloe. "Go on. I'll catch up."
Tess hesitated, then grabbed Chloe's wrist and pulled her away.
I crossed my arms and tilted my head. "What do you want?"
"Why would you do this to Noah?" Marcus stepped closer, voice low and edged with rage. "Wasn't yesterday enough? Letting Roman and the others beat him wasn't bad enough—you had to destroy him with a fake harassment story?"
I blinked slowly, eyes wide with practiced innocence. "Frame who? I have no idea what you're talking about."
His jaw clenched hard. "Cut the act, Seraphina. I've known you since we were kids. I know exactly what you are."
I didn't step back. Instead, I leaned in until our faces were inches apart.
"You saved him yesterday," I murmured, almost tenderly. "That was cute. Really. But you can't save him today."
I let the words linger.
"And if you keep pushing… I can't promise senior year will be comfortable for you either."
Something cracked in his expression—anger mixed with raw disgust.
"You're a sociopathic little monster," he said quietly. "A bored rich girl who hurts people because it's the only thing that still makes you feel anything."
"Mr. Lin."
We both turned.
Mrs. Leonard strode toward us, expression hard. "Is there a problem?"
Marcus's hands flexed at his sides. He forced himself to take a step back.
"No, ma'am," he said tightly. "No problem."
Her gaze shifted to me, lingering with clear concern. "Good. I'd hate to report threatening behavior toward someone who's already been through such a distressing incident today."
Marcus shot me one last look—fury mixed with fear—before turning and walking away, shoulders rigid.
I watched him disappear around the corner.
Perfect.
I changed quickly in the locker room, swapping my tennis outfit for the crisp school uniform. The fabric settled over me like armor.
Better.
I made my way to the football field and settled on the warm bleachers, legs crossed, elbows braced behind me.
Roman spotted me from the field. His posture shifted instantly—shoulders back, chin up. He barked something at his teammates, pulled off his helmet, and jogged over, climbing the bleachers two at a time before dropping beside me.
"Hey, beautiful." His voice was rough from practice, sweat still glistening on his skin. "Came to watch your man dominate?"
"Always."
He cupped my face with one gloved hand, thumb brushing my cheek as he studied me. "You okay? Heard about Chem."
"Better than okay." I smiled slowly, genuinely. "Better than perfect."
His grin turned sharp with dark satisfaction. "I knew you'd make that little shit pay. This move? Fucking brilliant."
He laughed low. "Nerdy charity case is finished. Everyone thinks he's a creep who put hands on you. Expulsion's basically guaranteed."
I traced a finger along his jaw, feeling his pulse jump under my touch.
"Who said anything about expulsion?"
Roman stilled, intrigued. "You're keeping him around?"
"Mmm." I leaned closer. "Endings are so… final. Don't you think?"
His eyes darkened with understanding and hunger. "You're diabolical, Sera."
"Besides," I murmured against his lips, "you don't throw away a toy when you've barely started playing with it."
Roman grinned—that sharp, dangerous smile—and kissed me hard. Salt, heat, possession.
"God, you're perfect," he muttered.
"I know."
I kissed him back deeper until the coach's whistle cut through the air.
"Caldwell! Back on the field!"
Roman groaned, stole one last kiss, then stood. "Friday. You're mine Friday."
I waved as he jogged back down.
Thomas waited in the driveway, the Mercedes gleaming, door already open.
"Good afternoon, Miss Voss."
"Afternoon, Thomas."
I slid inside. The cool leather welcomed me as the door shut with a soft thud.
In the tinted window, my reflection smiled back—sharp, serene, untouchable.
Not a monster.
Just better.
My father's voice echoed from memory, low and certain, the lesson he taught me when I was eight:
The world is divided into two kinds of people, Seraphina. Those who take… and those who get taken from.
Which one are you going to be?
I had chosen long ago.
Tomorrow I would offer Noah Callaghan just enough hope to keep him spinning in my web.
Tomorrow the game would tighten.
And I would win.
I always won.