He’s made her untouchable.
He’s made her his executioner.
The corrupt have made their move, and now it’s my turn.
Their show, their amusement, their entertainment lasted for one night.
My revenge will change the course of history for them all.
Chapter 19: Eve
Thecab’sheadlightscutas it turns down a side road, away from the Academy main gates. I sit on the sticky vinyl seat with the world still spinning behind my eyes. My palms are sweat-slick and cold. The dress from the gala scratches at my skin like a bandage on a fresh wound. I taste the salt of dried tears and champagne, and the shame hums under my skin.
The dress that I had felt like a princess in, now holds the memory of humiliation and pain.
Lies, it was all lies, but no one would believe me if I told them the truth. Silence was my only weapon, even as my heart shattered, wanting Colton to protect me… I knew why he couldn’t.
Everything here is strategic. It’s all appearances and power plays. He would have been outnumbered and he would have been silenced.
It doesn’t take away from the pain though.
He sits next to me. He’s silent. His fists rest on his knees, white-knuckled, the veins on his hands thick against his skin. The cab driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, then flick away.
We slow. The cab swings wide onto a dirt pullout. The Academy’s walls loom up in the distance, cruel and perfect. I flinch.
Colton pays. He doesn’t tip, just slides a card across the divider and nods once when the driver tries to say something. There’s a tension in his jaw that should be impossible. It looks like he’s gnawing the rage down to dust. I watch the driver peel away, tires crunching on gravel, and I realize my hands are clamped around my knees, pinning them together. I can’t get my body to move.
He doesn’t offer his hand, but he waits for me to stand. Maybe he knows if he touches me right now I’ll break.
My legs are numb and slow. I slip once, shoes skidding on the loose rocks. He’s there before I fall, righting me and making sure I’m stable before he drops his hand.
We walk, neither of us saying anything. The path is barely more than a line between trees, dirt and roots and dead leaves. I keepmy eyes down, counting steps. The branches above reach for each other, fusing in the night to make a tunnel of black and silver. I wonder if it’s possible to disappear completely.
If I just stop walking, will I turn into fog? If he leaves me here, will the night swallow me whole?
I don’t know where we’re going and I don’t care. Anywhere but that cursed place is good enough for me.
But he doesn’t leave. He leads, steps measured and silent, always a half-pace ahead, checking back every ten steps with a flick of his eyes to make sure I’m still following. There’s a comfort in that.
After what feels like miles, the path splits and opens. A clearing. Five cabins, I think. Two are brightly lit, smoke pouring from the chimneys. One has lights on in the kitchen, the other two are dark. He turns toward the one at the far edge, the one with the wrap around porch and a big, bright sign nailed above the door: “The Ellis’.” The paint is new, letters carved by hand.
He stops at the steps, pats the railing, then looks back at me. His face is unreadable. The rage has been packed away behind a wall, but it’s still in the lines of his shoulders, the way his arms flex when he moves.
There’s a ceramic turtle pot on the step. He lifts the shell and finds a key, no hesitation, no pause. He holds it in his palm for a second, weighing it. Then he turns to me.
“This is ours now. Issy was working on decorating it for us. If you don’t like it, you can change it,” he says. His voice is low, rough, like he hasn’t spoken for hours. “Fuck the Academy. They can’t touch us here.”
He unlocks the door.
Inside is not what I expect. The floor is old wood, creaking but clean. There’s a couch, plush and dark, with a big forest green throw blanket folded over the back. A round table with three mismatched chairs. A kitchen, small but stocked. The windows are curtained with thick, floral fabric, the kind you buy because it lasts forever. Down the hall is a decent sized bathroom with a bathtub, and to the left is a spare room.
Colton opens the door to the right, the master room. A bed sits against the far wall, made up with a white duvet and two perfect pillows. The air is warmer than outside, tinged with the smell of pine and dust and something citrus. There’s a lamp on the table, turned low, casting a pool of yellow over the whole room.
He steps inside, drops his coat, and stands with his back to me. He looks like he’s trying not to shatter the world with his fists.
I had been lost in the wonder of this little cabin that I’d almost completely forgotten why we were here.
It all rushes back, paralyzing me.
