Three… two…
Theo revs his engine like he’s about to fly down the road, but just as his car lurches forward…
Bang! Both front tyres explode with a sharp hiss, the car careening to the side.
I hear him growl as his door flies open.
“Blondie!” He stalks towards us, eyes narrowing, jaw sharp as a blade. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”
I smirk. “And you’ve got terrible luck. Might want to get that checked,” I reply innocently, then pout. “It looks really bad. What happened?”
Theo leans a hand on the roof of our car, his face just a little too close to mine through the glass. A dangerous smirk on his lips. “Keep poking, Blondie. You’ll find out what happens when I bite back.”
Heat flares in my chest; annoyance, obviously. Definitely just annoyance. I flick my hair and stick out my chin. “Soundslike a threat,” I remark nonchalantly.
“Call it a promise,” he murmurs, eyes glinting.
I ignore him, turning away, and he shakes his head, walking off as both Ares and Renji turn to look at me, whilst Allie sits back with a satisfied humph.
Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I motion for Ares to drive. “We don’t have all day.”
He shakes his head as he starts the car, and I look back at Theo, who is crouching by his front left tyre.
And that, Theo Westwood, is how you learn not to play a witch.
Your move, Mr Westwood.
Defiance
Heaven
“What’s that?” Holden asks, his brows furrowing.
I arch an eyebrow questioningly. It’s the following day, and we are in class.
“You have a bruise on your neck?” He tries to reach for it, but I shake my head, moving back slightly. The collar of my suit covers most of it, and I had applied some concealer.
“It’s nothing…” It’s something because even my healing spell didn’t work on it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a normal bruise.
“How did it happen?” he murmurs.
I don’t want to lie to him, but it’s hard to tell him the truth, too. “It happened on the week-”
“Your mother might be a High Witch, but you have a lot to learn, Aldona. Not paying attention in my lesson will cost you.” Professor Loraina’s cutting voice makes me look up.
I don’t appreciate her tone, but Ishouldhave been paying attention. “I apologise for getting distracted, but I am well-versed on this topic, I assure you.”
She pauses, her eyes narrowing, and I wonder if my tone still sounded disrespectful even though I spoke calmly.
“Are you? So, care to enlighten us about the Battle of Hecate’s Betrayal? Do you know how many died?”
We aren’t even discussing that battle.
“One thousand, two hundred and fifty-seven, including my paternal grandparents, my maternal grandmother’s brother and many more.”
“Any names that aren’t of your own blood?”
“The biological mother of our Queen – Indigo Westwood, and her father, Alpha Jackson-”
