But then what would I pull when she misbehaved?
My sister Seraphina had once asked me why we had Fawns. Her voice carried a tone of curiosity and disapproval, reminding me too much of our mother. Seraphina didn’t share our father’s appetite for cruelty like me. She had too much of our mother inside her. Too much conscience.
Still, she was a Marchetti, and that blood ran too deep to erase it all.
When something she cared about was threatened, that defiant spark came out. We all had our triggers. Hers was injustice. Mine was pretty much everything.
My answer to her question had been because it was fun.
After class finally ended, the room emptied quickly. Classmates poured out like rats scurrying from a sinking ship. Even Nelson packed up faster than usual, most likely not wanting to witness whatever hell I planned to put Blair through.
I stayed where I was, eyes on Blair, who remained in her seat.
She was waiting for me to leave first. Smart girl.
It was just the two of us, and from the way she kept fidgeting in her chair, I knew she was uncomfortable with that.
Good. That was exactly how I wanted it.
I tapped my fingers slowly againstmy desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Then I leaned back in my chair and hummed a Nine Inch Nails song, whispering her name every few seconds, as if I were a demon breathing down her neck.
“Blair.”Tap, tap, tap.“Blair.”Tap, tap, tap.
“Asshole,” she muttered while standing, shoving her MacBook into a cheap leather bag without sparing me a glance.
A chill rolled through the room as I palmed my knife, slipped it free, and reached across the desk. I sliced her tights in one clean motion. She recoiled instantly, stumbling back a step as the fabric tore. The rip spread along the thin black material, exposing her pale skin beneath. For a moment, I thought she might fall.
I frowned when she caught herself.
My attention dropped to the tear, the exposed strip of her skin, and a slow smirk curled across my face. The urge to kneel in front of her, to inspect my damage and see if the blade had drawn blood, ran hot through my veins.
But that would have to wait.
Like so many other things with her would.
Her eyes turned glossy. She was so close to crying that I could practically taste the tears.
I pushed back my chair and stood slowly. “Alla prossima, ratta.”
Her stare was a mixture of horror and disbelief.
I twirled the knife between my fingers, let out a slow whistle, and left.
She was a rat who’d pay for her sins.
Starting tonight.
Four
Blair
The restof my classes that day passed in a blur.
Words from professors drifted past me like fog. All I could think about washimand the sting of his knife nicking my skin. The way my tights had torn and that stupid, callous smirk of his that promised more carnage.
