Brynn mock-clutches her chest. “Damn. That’s embarrassing for you, Jace.”
Tammy bites into a strawberry and mutters, “Creepy.”
Luca opens his mouth, but Rowen beats him to it. “Shh. Let the grown-ups talk.”
Jace’s expression cools further somehow, but he doesn’t respond. Just turns and walks off, the others following.
Dakota turns back to me, her voice dropping. “Come on. Sit with us.”
I nod, stunned, and follow her back to their table. The moment I sit down, Callie scoots her tray closer.
“Your eyes are actually insane,” Brynn says, studying me like I’m some painting that just arrived.
“Don’t listen to any of those people; they just thrive off the drama.” Evie rolls her eyes.
I’m caught completely off guard. Compliments? From popular girls? Tome? Are they backingmeup?
“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” I mumble.
Dakota slides into the seat beside me, smiling like nothing just happened.
“Ignore them. They’re loud, not interesting.” She hands me a napkin. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. I think I am.”
And I mean it.
I barely walk outof my last class before my alert pings again — a soft chime that sounds like a gunshot after the day I’ve had.
New classes. Required attendance. No exceptions. Please see below.
Great. Because nothing says ‘welcome to your villain origin story’ like surprise after-school activities with the people who most want to destroy you.
I trudge across campus, every step a reminder of the whispers in the hallway, my own voice echoing in my head like a broken record.
Multiple guys reenact my video from the party. I try not to scowl, but I’m pretty sure I fail.
My limbs feel heavy, the kind of tired that settles in your bones and stays there. I don’t even look at the class name. Don’t care.
I just want this day to end. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I expect some kind of lecture hall or maybe a weird elective.
Instead, I step into something that looks like it belongs in a Bond villain’s basement — sleek black floors, reinforced walls, weapons racks gleaming along one side. A training room.
A man in a fitted black jacket glances up from a clipboard near the front and gives me a brief nod. “You’re late.”
I can’t do anything but stare.
“Look who finally decided to join us,” Luca purrs from the side of the room.
His voice fills me with dread.
And there they are. All four of them. At least Dakota is here too. Relief washes over me at the friendly face.
Luca, lazily perches on a bench like he’s posing for a magazine cover, twirling a throwing knife between his fingers. Jace stands rigid, watching me with that same cold, unreadable expression. Tex leans against the wall in the back, looking like he has better places to be. And Noah, already typing something into a device strapped to his wrist, eyes me over the rims of his glasses.
“Awesome,” I mutter under my breath, making my way to the far edge of the mat, as far from them as possible.
Dakota opens her mouth, but the instructor clears his throat. “Welcome to Combat Fundamentals. This is a guild-verified practical, not an academy course. You will be watched. You will be graded. And you will not enjoy it.”
