But it was still fucked up.
A gasp tore from my throat as my hand went to the back of my head, my fingers combing through my hair in search of a missing chunk.
No fresh damage, so it must’ve been what he’d cut yesterday.
Inside the box was also another smaller one. When I opened it, I found a stack of black ribbons folded inside.
These ones weren’t shredded.
Daphne collected the note from the floor, read it, and peeked inside the box. “Saint Vale’s own Mr. Darcy,” she muttered.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
I dumped the ribbons, the hair, and the entire stupid gift straight into the trash and got ready for the day.
And no, I didn’t wear a black bow.
Enzo Marchetti would regret ever choosing me to be his Fawn.
I arrived at my American Gothic Lit class as early as possible.
Even before Professor Nelson.
I refused to have my back to Enzo again, choosing the same desk in the back row that he’d sat in yesterday.
Before leaving my dorm, I’d pulled my hair into a tight bun and tied a pink ribbon I’d borrowed from Daphne around it. The urge to pull it into a ponytail nagged at me, but I wouldn’t risk Enzo chopping off any more inches.
Daphne warned me not to do it while she straightened her hair. I knew it was a bad idea, but desperate times called for desperate measures. All I’d thought about was convincing Enzo to choose another Fawn.
Guilt dripped inside my belly—if he did, that meant he’d torture another poor girl.
If only we could stop him from choosing anyone.
I smiled at the thought of breaking Enzo’s legs. Pretty damn hard to terrorize someone if you couldn’t walk. Then again, knowing him, he’d probably find a way. The man seemed plenty resourceful.
My brain felt like mush as I sat there. Enzo was already mentally defeating me, and he’d yet to officially choose me. If this was only the beginning, I couldn’t imagine the nightmare waiting for me.
I pressed my palms against the desk and forced myself to control my breathing while giving myself a mental pep talk.
If you think it, you can believe it.
Manifesting and delusion are the same thing, right?
Goose bumps erupted on my skin as I looked around the lecture hall. I eyed the Gothic paintings on the walls, the heavy wooden furniture, and the dark wood paneling.
Yesterday, I’d considered it Gothic décor. Now, it felt like the Night Sons had chosen every detail.
Crafted by the same men who built the entire Fawn System.
Fuck, I detested those men.
My attention drifted back to the grotesque mural above the whiteboard. The one where angels were being sacrificed like livestock. I flipped it off just as a book slammed onto the desk beside mine.
I turned in my chair to find the guy who’d sat beside Enzo yesterday. The one who’d looked thoroughly entertained while Enzo tormented me.
He dropped into the seat. My pulse kicked hard when his dark brown eyes slid toward me, narrowing like I’d done something wrong.
The look made me contemplate skipping class.
