I stepped forward. “I tried to protect you.”
“You broke me.”
My jaw locked. “I know.”
She stood, shoulders straight. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m going to fix this,” I swore.
Her eyes glistened. “You can’t. It’s already done.”
Then she walked away, wet dress dragging across stone, tiara gone.
I ran after them, heart in my throat, but Shani turned on me, fire blazing in her eyes.
"Leave her alone, Leo!"
"Shani—"
"No. You don't get to hurt her, break her, then chase her down like you're the hero of the story. Just go. Let her breathe for once."
And then the car door slammed between us.
I stood frozen under the soft golden lights outside the mansion, the cold finally starting to bite through my tux. I should’ve gone home. Should’ve left with some grace. But that wasn’t me anymore.
So I turned.
And went hunting.
The first girl I found was Bianca—because of course sheslithered out of the shadows like the snake she was, wrapping herself around me.
“You done slumming, Leo?” she purred, tracing her nails along my chest. “Maybe we can pick up where we left off.”
I flicked her hand off like it burned. “Don’t touch me.”
“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed, wounded pride behind the fake smile.
I didn’t look back. My fury needed a target.
And I knew exactly where to aim it.
I found them near the coatroom—the scorned soccer girls, their minions, the little coven of mean girls who thought they could destroy someone like Jade and walk away unscathed.
I stood there, jaw locked, blood boiling, and they finally noticed.
“Smile, Holt,” Nadia Livingston sneered. “Should’ve picked a girl who could take a joke.”
I didn’t smile.
Instead, I took a step forward, and the room went cold.
“I hope you enjoyed your moment,” I said calmly, my voice sharp enough to draw blood. “Because you just committed social suicide.”
They blinked.
I took another step.
“You think this is just prep school politics? Cute little pranks? Think again. Phones. Now. All of you.”
