Laughing bitterly, I shake my head. “No thanks. I’m not in the mood for whatever insults you have prepped.” I keep moving, but his voice catches, cracked and desperate.
“Arwen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I freeze. The word hits harder than I expect, and before I can stop myself, I turn. He looks worse than usual. There are shadows under his eyes, his face drawn, shoulders tense like he’s carrying a weight he can’t drop. It makes me feel a vicious satisfaction—good, he deserves to feel like hell—but it also makes my chest ache in a way I hate. Our forced connection. It’s always pulling at me, never letting me just hate him in peace.
He takes another step, hands raised, careful, like I might bolt. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for days. Since… that night.” His voice breaks, and I know exactly which night he means—the night I caught him with someone else. The image sears across my mind, a wound that hasn’t healed.
“I don’t want to hear this,” I whisper, even though I don’t move.
He pushes on anyway. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I swear. I’ve just—” His hand clenches into a fist over his chest, right where I know the bond burns. “The ache never stops. It’s constant. And I keep looking for something—anything—to make it go away. To give me even a second of relief. I’ve been trying to ease it.. with others, but nothing works. Except being near you. And I don’t know how to live with that.”
His words hang between us, heavy, raw.
“I don’t know what to do.” His voice breaks.
And even though every part of me wants to tell him to shut up, to walk away and leave him drowning in his own mess… I don’t. I just stand there, heart racing, trapped between fury and pity, hate and something I don’t dare name.
My chest heaves, the words spilling out before I can stop them.
“I have to deal with the pain of the bond too, you know. That’s not new. But you’ve had to make it worse. You go out of your way to be rude, to push me, to make me feel like I don’t belong here. I don’t care who you’re hooking up with. I want nothing to do with you. Be with whoever you want; it makes no difference to me.”
I spin on my heel, but his voice stops me cold.
“Wait, please.” His tone is raw, desperate in a way I’ve never heard from him. “I know I don’t have room to talk, but I… I have a bad feeling about you and Ryker. I wish you would just trust me.”
I freeze, fists clenching at my sides. “A bad feeling?” I echo, disbelief sharpening my voice. “That’s your excuse? That’s what you came up with? You’ve been nothing but cruel to me, and now you’re trying to rip me away from the one person who’s shown me kindness?”
“It’s not just the bond beingupset—”
“Don’t you dare,” I snap, cutting him off. My voice cracks, but I force it steady. “Ryker has been there when you weren’t. He stuck up for me when you made my life hell. Maybe you didn’t mean for me to catch you in the act, but you have made damn sure I understand you are flirting and seeing other girls. And you—you stand here, acting like you get to dictate who I let close? How dare you!”
His jaw tightens, regret flashing in his eyes. “I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t care what you meant.” My voice drops to a low, venomous whisper. “I appreciate your apology, no matter how pathetic the excuse is, but I don’t want to hear it. I want nothing from you. So leave me alone.”
I turn again, and this time I don’t look back.
26
Thou Shalt Not Lose Thy Cool in a Room Full of Idiots
Alexi
Ipour myself another drink at the bar, watching the amber liquid splash into the glass. It burns going down, but the fire in my throat is nothing compared to the one clawing inside my chest. It’s been like this for months—ever since the bond ceremony. A constant, agonizing pull. And it only gets worse every time Ryker touches her. Every time he makes her smile.
I glance around Ryker’s dorm, trying not to choke on the bile of envy. His room is twice the size of mine. Hell, the entire suite is like a miniature palace—sleek kitchen, full bar, a pool table, leather couches sprawled around a massive hearth. The setup most students would kill to have. His first invitation felt like a milestone, a moment where I convinced myself I finally belonged, that it all mattered. Now it just feels like another gilded cage.
Another sip burns its way down my throat. I warned her. I told her not to trust him. But what more could I do? If Ryker ever suspected the truth—if he ever learned Arwen is my bond, even an uncompleted bond—everything would unravel. My family’s loyalty to his would shatter, and I’d lose everything. So, I keep my mouth shut. I keep playing the part. And I let her fall deeperinto his trap.
If I’m being honest with myself, I can’t even blame her for brushing me off. The first time I saw her, I didn’t just stumble—I torched whatever chance I might’ve had. I thought I was clever, cornering her, making her see me, forcing some kind of connection. I told myself it was about getting her on our side, about beating Ryker to the punch. Truth is, I wanted her to choose me, to want me. And instead of showing her anything real, I played it wrong. I came on too hard, too fast, under the pretense of strategy. Now all she sees when she looks at me is that mistake, and I don’t know if I’ll ever crawl out from under it.
Keys rattle at the door. My grip on the glass tightens.
The second the door swings open, Ryker strolls in, grin plastered across his face like he’s just conquered the damn world. His friends erupt in cheers and whistles, throwing playful jabs and filthy innuendos. Ryker soaks it in, pausing in the doorway like some war hero returning from battle, before taking a bow.
My jaw aches from how hard I’m clenching it. I want to cross the room and wipe that smug grin off his face with my fist. Instead, I take another shot. Play the part. Keep breathing.
“About time, man!” someone calls. “So how was it?” Laughter explodes around the room, half-drunk voices jeering and elbowing Ryker as he drops into the nearest chair.
