Levi’s laughter turned dark and chilling. “Wrong answer. For you, I could be the worst.”
My lips parted, and my nails scratched my palms. He toyed with me, leaving me in the uncertainty of what could happen so I’d watch my back. I read about this inThe Art of Warfare, a book my father had given me when I was ten.
My eyes landed on him. “I already said I was sorry.”
“Sorry is not enough,” he hissed, pushing my hair aside with an unsettling tenderness. His lips hovered dangerously close to my ear, but the venom of his next words quickly overshadowed any semblance of softness. “Maybe if you could cease to exist, that would be a good start.”
My eyes widened, and my chin trembled. “You don’t mean that… You can’t be implying that after your own mother…”
“I wish you had never existed,” he whispered, and while I couldn’t see his face, I felt that, for the first time, he was truly sincere. “As for now…”
His hand crept toward my neck, inching closer with an ominous intent.
“What are you doing?” I managed to choke out.
The ribbon in my hair came undone, my locks cascading freely before my eyes. He straightened his spine, my ribbon held hostage in his hand, his eyes narrowing on me. A knot tightened in my stomach. My breath came in short, sharp bursts, and I could feel the heat rising to my face. He slipped the silver ribbon onto his wrist, claiming it as his own without a trace of remorse.
“I’m keeping this,” he said with a sly scowl.
“No!” I cried out. “It’s my mother’s! Hand it back.”
“And therein lies the reason.” He stepped away from me, twiddling my ribbon around his wrist. “I’m afraid you’ll have to fight me for it.”
I pinched my lips. “You’re a…”Say something, Dalia.Anything. Dad isn’t here to reprimand you for any bad words you’d say.“A bully!”
“We all have a role to play, and you’re my little broken doll, coming alive just for me. Allmine.” He tucked his hands in his pocket, his cold eyes locking me into place. “That’s why I came to your dorm. To crush every last bit of hope you could have about forgiveness. Seeing that defeated look in your eyes was just a bonus. I’m just getting started with you.”
I pressed my hand to my heart. Iftheycouldn’t crush my hopes, it was unlikely Levi would succeed. He didn’t haunt my nightmares like them.
I clenched my fists to my side. “I’ll never be yours.”
“That’s debatable.” He raised an eyebrow, swaggering away from my dorm. “And by the way, you might want to consider using a VPN next time. It’s almost too easy for anyone to pry into your life.”
I glared at him. “I doubt this will keep you from digging into my life.”
“You’re right, it won’t, but starting now, I’ll be the only one with this privilege. I promise we’ll see each other very soon.”
“I’m still not over the fact we’re eating in a chapel,” Yasmine whispered, her gaze skeptical as it fell on the silverware neatly arranged on the long wooden tables. Meals at Pantheon felt a little bit like a royal banquet. Today was the welcoming lunch for the first years. “I think I’d have to sell an organ on top of working at the library to afford to eat at this place. Did you have any luck with the choir group?”
It was the last day for the applications, but for some reason, I kept thinking about what Sylas had said about fencing. A sport for the brave. I wanted to be brave too. Like Mom.
“I really need to talk to them, don’t I?” I glanced at the choir group seated beneath the stained glass. I didn’t even want to be in the choir. I’d disliked it at home, but it was one of my father’s conditions for my attendance.
I rose, my momentum interrupted by the butler picking up our plates the moment we freed the space because, yes, Pantheon even had a butler for events like this.
“Thank you, Alfie,” Yasmine said, and the old man frowned. “Alfie, as in Alfred, as in Batman. It’s a compliment.”
“Here goes nothing,” I muttered to myself. Yasmine and I approached the choir group, which was distributing prospectuses about their upcoming concert. “Did I tell you I have my first advanced class for musical interpretation and ensemble performance with Mr. Delgado? He’s one of—”
“The best interpreters of our time, and you’ve been wanting to meet him since forever. He’s the one selecting the students playing at the opera at the end of the school year. I know. I even googled him thinking he must be hot or something. Imagine my disappointment when I saw his age and—”
“Hi,” I cut Yas off, attempting a smile, facing the whole group and their glares. “I’m a first-year musicology student, and I want to join the group. I’ve been in a choir for a couple of years in my hometown and—”
“I’m sorry, we’re full,” the woman in the middle quipped with the fakest smile. “Plus, we have too many women already.”
“Oh.” My lips were tugging in a smile despite myself. “Can you write it down for me as proof?”
“Maybe you could even record—” Yasmine chimed in.
