Lucian goes silent again, but I can feel him thinking, calculating. “I’ll look into the breach immediately. You know I will.”
“But that’s not…” I bite my lip hard enough to sting. “I don’t think I can do this.”
His voice is quieter. “I understand. But if you come home now, they win. And I didn’t raise a daughter who lets cowards win.”
I press my forehead into my hand. “You didn’t raise me at all.”
That makes him pause.
“No. But I’m here now. And I’m not letting you run.”
I don’t say anything. Don’t have it in me.
My breath hitches. I hate crying, hate the way it makes me feel weak and messy and exposed, but the ache in my chest won’t stop growing.
“Then tell me what I need to do.”
Lucian’s voice, calm and unwavering, carries only one word, “Survive.”
“If anything, that’s all I know how to do. I’ve already survived worse.”
“That’s my girl.”
I spendthe weekend in my room after Dakota told me a nifty perk of being an Ashthorne; I can order room service. Not having to go down to the food hall to eat is truly the cherry on top.
Monday rears its ugly head. The cafeteria buzzes with chatter and clinking trays, but it all goes silent the moment I step inside. The air changes. Everyone already knows.
Eyes flick in my direction. Mouths twist around barely hidden smirks. The weight of every stare crawls across my skin.
They want me to shrink, to fold into myself. They want my embarrassment. But I’m not giving them anything. I imagine the strength my grandma had, all from Lucian’s stories, and I channel her.
I keep my chin high, walking straight to the breakfast line. Gripping the tray a little too tightly, I shuffle forward before grabbing some eggs and fruit I won’t eat.
Laughter rises from a nearby table. Different theories and guesses at what the video is about float around me.
The tray shakes just slightly in my hands. I don’t look. I don’t break. I’ve heard worse. But itfeelsdifferent.
The cafeteria shifts again, as heads turn to watch Jace, Luca, Tex, and Noah move through the room as if they own it.
Luca spots me first. His grin spreads slow and cruel. “Morning, starlet,” he calls across the room. “Didn’t know you had such a flair for dramatics.”
A table erupts in laughter. My ears ring. I keep walking.
Then Jace’s voice slices through. Cold. Loud enough to carry. “You should be grateful. Most people don’t getthismuch attention on their first week.”
I freeze mid-step. The tray in my hands feels stupidly heavy. He’s looking straight at me. Daring me to crumble. Waiting for the fallout.
“She didn’t ask for your opinion.” Dakota’s voice cuts clean through the noise.
The entire room seems to stop.
She’s standing at her table with a full tray in hand, her friends behind her like a wall. Callie, Brynn, Evie, Tammy, and Rowen—all watching with expressions that range from mildly pissed tofull-blown ready to throw down.
Dakota walks toward me, heels tapping like punctuation. She stops at my side, looks past me to the boys.
“Don’t you have anything better to do? Or are you just that obsessed with her?”
Callie lets out a loudoof.
