Book-BB ad: 🔞😍Click here to Read on More Spicy Chapters👉👉

Victor's text hit Elara's phone at 9:47 PM. *Final notice. 48 hours or we seize the house.* She read it three times in the bathroom stall of the Thorne Dynamics ballroom, her hands shaking hard enough to nearly drop the phone into the toilet. Outside, two hundred of New York's elite celebrated another record quarter. Inside this stall, Elara's life was collapsing. Seven figures. That's what the debt had become over ten years. Medical bills from Leo's leukemia. Her mother's cancer treatment. Her father's gambling addiction. Numbers that had stopped feeling real and started feeling like a life sentence. The fire stairwell was empty. She kicked off her heels, and sat on the concrete steps. Sipping the remaining champagne, it was the 5th glass she’s had, pulling her knees to her chest, her expensive navy dress bunching around her thighs. Professional. Composed. That's what she'd been for three years as Marcus Thorne's executive assistant, you have to be, if you work for Marcus you’ll know he's the Devil in Dior. The stairwell door opened. Marcus descended slowly, his jacket unbuttoned, his tie loosened. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his face, carved jaw, dark eyes that missed nothing. He stopped two steps above her. He’s the type of man that turns heads when he enters a place, handsome? Yes, sexy? Yes, when it comes to work? a nightmare in black suits "You left the gala," he said. "I needed air." "You've been gone for eleven minutes." He moved closer. "I don't employ people who disappear." She looked away. "I’m sorry it was a family emergency, there's nothing you can fix." "Try me." Three years working under him, he literally gets off making her life miserable. Unreal goals, Inhuman workload, impossible deadlines, yet she always delivered and made sure she'd maintained perfect distance. Hated his guts, he was always set out to make her work difficult. Now, drunk on champagne and desperation, she felt it crumble. "My brother. Financial trouble. A debt collector. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars by tomorrow." He pulled out his phone immediately. "No." She grabbed his wrist. "You can't just…." "You work for me. Your problems are containable." His eyes locked on hers. "We're going to contain this." Something broke open inside her. For the first time in three years, she wasn't alone with it. He reached out, and for a terrifying second, she thought he would touch her face. Instead, his fingers brushed the collar of her dress, adjusting the thin strap where it had slipped on her shoulder. “Let go of control, just for a moment,” he said, his thumb resting where her neck met her shoulder, the heat searing her skin. "I can't," she whispered. "Yes, you can." He closed the final inch, ran his hands through her short dress, Elara felt electric waves through her. His mouth descended, not with the arrogance of a boss, it was gentle but with the demanding hunger of a man who had not been with anyone for too long. She kissed him back. It wasn't tender. It was desperate, her mouth against his, tasting cologne and expensive scotch. She expected him to pull away. Marcus Thorne didn't blur professional lines. Marcus didn't blur anything. Instead, he kissed her again. His hand gripped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, destroying the careful pins. The other hand pulled her close until there was no space between them. He tasted like control and power, and she wanted to drown in it. He spun her around and pressed her back against the brick wall. His mouth moved to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks she'd have to hide tomorrow. "Tell me to stop," he said against her skin. She didn't. She pulled his shirt up instead, needing to feel him. His chest was solid muscle, warm skin stretched over ribs she could feel under her palms. He made a sound, almost a growl and then his hands were everywhere. Her dress was hiked up around her waist. His fingers found the edge of her underwear and tore them away completely, the fabric ripping in his grip. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're soaked." He didn't waste time. His hand pressed between her thighs, fingers sliding inside her, and she gasped into his neck. His thumb found her clit and worked it in rough circles while his fingers pumped deeper, fingering her so hard. She could feel her own wetness coating his hand, dripping down her inner thighs. He moved the other free hand pressing her boobs and sucking on it passionately, tongue curling around the nipple and biting softly yet hardly. Her hips rocked against his hand desperately. This was insane. This was career suicide. This was….Damn she hates her boss, how’s this possible, she tried to stop but she couldn’t, the champagne was hitting harder now. He stopped and stepped back just far enough to unbuckle his belt. His pants dropped. Already hard and thick, stroking it once before reaching for his wallet. "Don't you fucking move," he said. He tore open a condom with his teeth and rolled it on with one hand while the other gripped her hip, keeping her pinned against the wall. Then he positioned himself and pushed inside her in one hard stroke. Elara's cry echoed off the concrete walls. He was big, bigger than she'd expected, filling her completely, stretching her almost to the point of pain. He didn't give her time to adjust. He pulled out and thrust back in, establishing a brutal rhythm that knocked her back against the brick with each movement. "Is this what you wanted?" he demanded, his voice rough. "Is this why you kissed me?" She couldn't answer. Could barely breathe. He was hitting something deep inside her that made her vision blur. His hand moved from her hip to grip her thigh, pulling her leg up and around his waist, changing the angle, going even deeper. The cold wall at her back. His heat pressing against her front. The sound of their bodies colliding in the empty stairwell, wet and urgent and absolutely forbidden. "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned. "So fucking tight." He was hitting so fast and rough and didn’t notice the condom had broken. The pleasure was insane. Her orgasm built fast, a pressure that started at her core and radiated outward. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, tasting blood from biting her own lip. "Come," he commanded. She did. Hard and sudden, her muscles clenching around him as pleasure ripped through her body. She bit down on his neck to keep from screaming. He followed seconds later, his hips jerking erratically as he finished inside her, his breath harsh against her ear. For a moment, they stayed pressed together, both breathing hard, still connected. Then he pulled away. His expression was already closing off, back to the nonchalant ceo. He fixed his pants with mechanical precision while she slid down the wall, her legs shaking so badly she could barely stand. "That didn’t happen," he said quietly. Her heart dropped in her stomach. "Marcus" "Go home. It’s Christmas holiday, see you at work next week, make sure you’re early." He didn't look at her. "This won't happen again." He left before she could respond, his footsteps disappearing up the stairs. Elara sat alone on the concrete, her dress torn, his marks on her skin, and realized she'd just made the worst decision of her life. It was 1 week later when she bought the first pregnancy test. Then four more after that just to be sure. Shit!!! what the fuck have i done. Two Pink Lines It had been a week since Elara slept with the devil. Christmas wasn’t supposed to feel like this. The holiday was meant for family dinners and bad movies, not sterile hospital hallways that smelled like bleach and something darker she couldn’t name. But here she was, Day seven of her vacation, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside her mother’s bed, pretending everything would be fine. Her phone buzzed. Another email from Marcus. *Subject: Q4 Report - Revisions Needed* She opened the attachment. Forty-three pages of financial projections that needed reformatting by tomorrow. On Christmas week. Because Marcus Thorne didn’t believe in holidays, only deadlines. “You’re working again,” her mother said softly. Elara looked up. Her mother’s face had that grey pallor that came with stage three cancer, her cheeks hollow, but her eyes were still sharp. Still watching everything. “Just a quick edit.” Elara locked her phone and forced a smile. “Nothing major.” “You work too hard, baby.” “The job pays well, Mama. Really well.” The lie tasted bitter. Her savings account had $3,000 left after this month’s payment to Victor. The chemo her mother needed cost $80,000. “I’ve got it covered. The treatment, everything. You just focus on getting better.” Her mother’s thin hand reached out, wrapping around Elara’s wrist. “I don’t want you sacrificing your life for me.” “I’m not sacrificing anything.” Elara squeezed back gently, careful of the IV line. “You took care of me my whole life. It’s my turn now.” “Has your father come by?” The question landed like a stone in still water. “No.” Elara kept her voice neutral. “Haven’t seen him all week.” “Elara…” “And I’m praying it stays that way.” She couldn’t hide the edge in her tone. “Luca showing up only means he needs money or he’s running from someone he owes. Either way, it’s trouble we don’t need right now.” Her mother’s eyes filled with that particular sadness that came from loving a man who kept breaking her heart. “He’s still your father.” “He’s a gambling addict who put us in this mess.” Elara stood, smoothing down her jeans. “I need to head home, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Earlier if you need me.” “You’re a good girl, Elara. Too good for all this.” Elara kissed her mother’s forehead, tasting the salt of unshed tears she refused to let fall. “Get some rest, Mama. I love you.” “Love you too, baby.” The taxi ride home was quiet. Elara stared out the window at the Christmas lights strung across brownstones, families visible through warm windows, living lives that didn’t involve debt collectors and dying mothers and mistakes made in fire exits. She pulled out her phone, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. Mimi had posted pictures from her campus in London, surrounded by friends at some holiday party. Elara double-tapped the image, feeling the distance between them like a physical ache. The next post was one of those viral memes. A girl holding up twelve fingers with the caption: *Period check. 12/12 months DONE. We survived besties.* Elara’s thumb froze mid-scroll. Twelve months. When was the last time she’d gotten hers? She tried to think back. November had been hell at work with the annual report. October… she couldn’t remember. Everything blurred together in a haze of hospital visits and late nights at the office and Victor’s constant threats. But she’d gotten it in November. She was sure. Maybe. Possibly. Her heart started doing something uncomfortable in her chest. “Miss? We’re here.” The taxi driver was watching her in the rearview mirror. Elara paid quickly, her hands shaking as she handed over crumpled bills. The bodega on the corner was still open, fluorescent lights harsh against the darkening street. She walked in like she was in a dream, past the rows of chips and energy drinks, to the back wall where the pharmacy items were kept. Pregnancy tests. An entire shelf of them. This was stupid. She was being paranoid. Stress could delay periods. She’d read that somewhere. And they’d used a condom. Marcus had used a condom. She’d seen him put it on. But intrusive thoughts were a bitch, and Elara had never been good at leaving questions unanswered. She grabbed the cheapest box and paid without making eye contact with the cashier. Her apartment was dark and cold. She hadn’t been home much this week, spending most nights on the hospital’s uncomfortable chairs. The space felt foreign now, like it belonged to a different version of herself. One who hadn’t fucked her boss in a stairwell. The bathroom light flickered twice before staying on. Elara tore open the box with shaking hands, reading instructions she already knew by heart from countless pregnancy scares in college that had amounted to nothing. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line meant not pregnant. Two lines meant… She didn’t let herself finish the thought. The test felt absurdly light in her hand. Such a small thing to hold so much weight. She did what needed to be done, set the stick on the edge of the sink, and pulled out her phone to set a timer. Three minutes. She couldn’t watch it. Instead, she sat on the closed toilet lid and stared at the cracked tile on the floor, counting the seconds in her head because the silence was too loud. Her phone buzzed. Another email from Marcus. She didn’t open it. The timer went off. Elara stood slowly, like her bones had aged a decade in three minutes. She picked up the test with hands that didn’t feel like her own. Two pink lines. Clear as day. Unmistakable. She bought four more tests from three different bodegas, spacing them out so the cashiers wouldn’t remember her face. Took them all within an hour, lining them up on the bathroom counter like evidence at a crime scene. Two lines. Two lines. Two lines. Two lines. Elara sat on her bathroom floor as the reality settled into her bones. She was pregnant. With Marcus Thorne’s baby. “Shit.” Her voice cracked. “What the fuck have I done?“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ The Devil’s Proposal Elara hailed a taxi, dropped into the back seat, the taxi smelled like stale coffee. Elara rummaged through her tote bag for the third time, fingers brushing past lip gloss and crumpled receipts, searching for the USB drive that held Marcus’s edited Q4 reports. If she’d left it on her kitchen counter, she was dead. Not metaphorically dead. Actually dead. Marcus Thorne would fire her on the spot, and worse, he’d do it with that blank expression that made you feel like an insect he’d stepped on without noticing. Her fingers closed around the small drive. She exhaled. “Rough morning?” the driver asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “You have no idea.” Rough didn’t cover it. The past week had been hell wrapped in a nightmare and served cold. She’d worked through Christmas, editing financial projections while her mother slept in a hospital bed and five pregnancy tests sat hidden in her bathroom drawer like evidence of a crime she couldn’t undo. And Marcus. God, Marcus had made sure she earned every cent of her salary. Emails at 2 AM. Revision requests on Christmas Day. A forty-page report that needed complete reformatting because he decided he didn’t like the font. The man was the devil in Dior. No, worse. He was heartless in Hugo Boss. Satan in Suitsupply. Why not just quit? The question had been circling her brain for three years like a vulture. Because she couldn’t. Before this job, she’d been a janitor at a corporate office in Manhattan, mopping floors at 5 AM and dodging the eyes of executives who looked through her like she was furniture. Jobs were scarce when you didn’t have connections or a degree from the right school. And this job, for all its hell, paid well. Well enough that her mother had a hospital bed instead of dying on a clinic floor. Well enough that Leo, her junior brother, could stay in community college. Well enough that she could keep Victor, the debt collector from taking the last thing they owned. The taxi pulled up to Thorne Dynamics Tower, all glass and steel stretching into the grey January sky like a middle finger to everyone who couldn’t afford to work there. Elara paid the driver and stepped onto the sidewalk. The building loomed above her. She made the sign of the cross, muttering under her breath, “Dear God, about to work with the devil again today. Keep me safe.” It was sarcastic. Mostly. The lobby was already buzzing with employees, everyone moving with that particular Monday morning energy that felt more like a death march than a workday. Elara checked her phone. 8:47 AM. She was late. “Elara!” She turned to find Emeka striding toward her, coffee in one hand, his designer scarf draped over his shoulder like he was walking a runway instead of heading to accounting. He looked her up and down, eyebrows rising dramatically. “Girl, you’re glowing. What happened during the holiday? You met someone?” “Emeks, I’m late. Can we not?” “Oh, we’re absolutely doing this.” He fell into step beside her as they headed toward the elevators. “You’ve got that glow. That ‘I had good sex’ glow. Spill.” “There’s nothing to spill.” “Lies. I can smell lies, babe, and you reek of them.” Elara’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down at the screen. *Mr. Thorne: My office. Now.* Her stomach dropped to her feet. Emeka leaned over her shoulder, reading the message. “Is that the devil?” She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. “Well, don’t keep him waiting.” Emeka’s grin turned wicked. “Go on before he drops hell on earth. And babe? Whatever you did during Christmas, do it again. That glow is everything.” Elara didn’t respond. She was already moving toward the private elevator that led directly to Marcus’s top-floor office, her heels clicking against the marble like a countdown. The ride up felt like drowning in slow motion. She stared at her reflection in the polished steel doors. Dark circles under her eyes that concealer couldn’t quite hide. Hair pulled back in a tight bun that made her look professional and miserable. She looked like someone who’d spent the week having a mental breakdown in installments. The doors opened with a soft chime. Marcus’s office was exactly as she remembered. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Minimalist furniture that probably cost more than her annual salary. Everything is cold, clean, controlled. Just like him. He stood behind his desk, hands in his pockets, staring out at the skyline. He didn’t turn when she entered. “Good morning, Mr. Thorne.” Silence. She stayed by the door, clutching her bag like a shield. The air in the room felt heavy, charged with something she couldn’t name. Her mind raced. Did he know? Had he somehow found out about the pregnancy? Was this the part where he fired her for unprofessional conduct and she lost everything? “Sit.” It wasn’t a request. Elara moved to the chair across from his desk, lowering herself slowly. Her hands were shaking. She clasped them together in her lap, willing them to stop. Marcus turned finally, his dark eyes locking onto hers. His expression gave away nothing. No anger. No warmth. Nothing. He looked at her the way someone might look at a contract they were considering signing. The silence stretched. Ten seconds. Twenty. She was about to break, about to say something, anything to fill the terrible quiet, when he spoke. “Marry me.” Elara blinked. The words didn’t make sense. They were English, she understood English, but strung together like that they became nonsense. Her brain scrambled to process. Did he hit his head over Christmas? Did he think the sex in the stairwell meant something? Did he somehow know about the pregnancy and this was his twisted solution? “I…..” “Should I repeat myself?” His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came before hurricanes. Elara’s mouth opened. Closed. It opened again. No sound came out. Her heart was doing something violent in her chest, slamming against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Marcus Thorne, her boss, the devil who’d made her life hell for three years, the man who’d fucked her in a fire exit and then dismissed her with cold finality, had just asked her to marry him. And judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t joking. My devil on earth had just made it official.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ One Million Reason “Marry me.” The words hung in the air between them like smoke. Elara stared at Marcus, waiting for the punchline, the smirk, anything that would indicate this was some elaborate joke at her expense. Nothing came. Is this man insane? “You heard me.” His tone was flat, like he’d just asked her to schedule a meeting, not commit to a lifetime legal bond. God, she despised this man. “What is this?” Her voice came out sharper than intended. “Some kind of mental breakdown? A psychological experiment? The physical workload wasn’t torture enough, so now we’re moving into emotional manipulation?” “Marry me, and I will…..” “No.” The word came out loud. Too loud. Sharp enough to cut through the thick glass walls of his office and reach the assistants stationed outside. She saw heads turn, eyes widening before quickly looking away. Marcus blinked. It was the first genuine reaction she’d seen from him in three years. Actual surprise flickering across his face before the mask slammed back down. “No?” “Should I say it in French? Morse code? Sign language?” Elara’s hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was rage. Pure, undiluted rage at this man who thought he could control everything, including her. “Which translation works best for you, Mr. Thorne?” “You haven’t even heard my offer.” “I’m not interested in whatever twisted game you’ve cooked up in that calculating brain of yours.” She stood, chair scraping against the floor. “Find another assistant to play with.” Marcus watched her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. The look on his face was almost comical. Almost. She’d just become the first person in Thorne Dynamics history to tell Marcus Thorne no, and he genuinely didn’t know how to process it. Elara turned to leave. “One million.” She stopped. Her hand was on the door handle, fingers frozen mid-grip. “One million what?” “Dollars.” Slowly, she turned back around. Marcus hadn’t moved. He stood behind his desk, hands still in his pockets, expression carefully neutral except for that slight tightness around his eyes that suggested he was recalculating every assumption he’d made about this conversation. “One million dollars,” she repeated. The number felt absurd in her mouth. Fake. Like Monopoly money. “For what? A year? Six months? How long does this arrangement last?” “Two years. A marriage contract. You play the role of my wife. After twenty four months, we divorce. You walk away with the money.” Elara laughed. It came out bitter and sharp. “You think you can just throw money at me? After three years of treating me like I’m nothing? Like I’m some object you keep in that office to make your life easier?” She took a step closer to his desk. “All the impossible deadlines. The emails at 3 AM. The constant criticism. The way you look through me like I’m invisible. And now you want me to marry you?” “It’s a business transaction.” “It’s insane.” “It’s practical.” Marcus pulled his hands from his pockets, placing them flat on the desk. “I need a wife. You need money. This solves both problems.” “You don’t know anything about my problems.” “I know you’re drowning in debt. I know your family is one payment away from losing everything. I know you spent Christmas in a hospital instead of enjoying your holiday.” His eyes locked onto hers. “I know Victor called you six times last week.” Ice flooded her veins. “How do you….” “I pay attention, Miss Vance.” The use of her last name felt like a slap. They’d had sex a week ago. His marks had barely faded from her neck. And now they were back to Miss Vance, like nothing had happened. Like she was still just the assistant. The employee. The thing he kept around for convenience. “Take your time,” Marcus said, settling into his chair with infuriating calm. “Think it over. Run the numbers. You’ll come around.” The certainty in his voice made her want to scream. “I won’t.” “You will.” Elara turned and walked out. She didn’t storm. Didn’t slam the door. Just walked out with her head high and her hands steady, even though everything inside her was screaming. The assistants at their desks kept their eyes down, suddenly fascinated by their computer screens. It was the first time in three years she’d walked out of Marcus Thorne’s office without being dismissed. And surprisingly, he didn’t call her back. No sharp command. No snide comment about professionalism. Nothing. Her own office was smaller. Cramped. A desk shoved against a window that overlooked the building next door instead of the city skyline. But it was hers, and right now she needed the space to breathe. Elara dropped into her chair and pressed her palms against her eyes. One million dollars. The number kept circling her brain like a vulture. That kind of money would pay off Victor. Cover her mother’s treatment. Give Leo a real shot at a future instead of community college classes he could barely afford. That kind of money would save them. But marriage? To Marcus Thorne? The man who’d made her life miserable for three years? The man who’d fucked her in a stairwell and then act like she was nothing? Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. The office phone rang. “Miss Vance speaking.” “Hi, um, there’s someone here to see you?” The receptionist’s voice was hesitant. “He doesn’t have an appointment, but he says it’s urgent. His name is Victor.” Elara’s blood turned to ice. Victor. The debt collector. Here. At her office. “Tell him….” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “Tell him I’ll be right down.” She hung up before the receptionist could respond. Her hands were shaking again, but this time there was no rage to hide behind. Just pure, animal fear. Victor had found her office. He’d tracked her down to the one place she thought was safe. And if he was here, it meant the forty-eight hours were up. It meant she was out of time.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ And he’s here to collect the money she had no hand in spending, her father, her father the drunk gambler had been borrowing money from Victor. Broken Glass Victor was waiting in the lobby, leaning against the reception desk like he owned the place. Designer suit. Expensive watch. Nothing about him screamed debt collector except the dead look in his eyes when they landed on her. Elara’s stomach twisted. “We need to talk,” he said. “Not here.” She grabbed his arm, steering him toward the exit. The last thing she needed was her colleagues witnessing this. “Outside.” They crossed the marble lobby in silence, through the revolving doors and into the cold January air. The parking lot was mostly empty at this hour, just a few scattered cars and the distant hum of traffic. Elara didn’t stop until they were behind a concrete pillar, away from the building’s glass walls. “What are you doing here?” Her voice came out harsh. “How did you even find my office?” Victor smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Your father gave me your details. Workplace, address, everything. Luca’s been very cooperative lately.” Of course he had. Luca would sell out his own children if it meant saving his skin for another day. “What do you want?” “Your father hasn’t been answering his phone for two weeks. His weekly payment is overdue.” Victor pulled out his phone, scrolling through something before turning the screen toward her. Numbers. Dates. A debt that had somehow grown even larger. “The house goes up for collateral if I don’t get payment by tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” Elara’s voice cracked. “That’s impossible. I need more time.” “You’ve had ten years, Elara.” “Please.” The word tasted like ash. She hated begging. Hated the way her voice went small and desperate. But this was her mother’s house. The only thing they had left. “Just give me one more week. I’ll figure something out. I’ll get you the money.” “One week won’t change anything.” Victor pocketed his phone. “You don’t have it now, you won’t have it then.” “I’ll find a way.” “How? You going to ask your boss for a raise?” He gestured toward the tower behind them. “Girls like you don’t get miracles. You get buried.” “I’m not asking for a miracle. I’m asking for time.” Victor studied her for a long moment. She could see him calculating, weighing her worth against whatever pressure Luca’s debt had put on him. Finally, he sighed. “Twenty-four hours, Elara. That’s all you get.” He started walking back toward the street. “Clock’s ticking.” Tick. Tok. She watched him go, her legs suddenly unsteady. Twenty-four hours. One day to come up with money she didn’t have. One day before they lost everything. The sound of footsteps made her turn. Marcus was walking through the parking lot, phone pressed to his ear, talking in that clipped tone he used for business calls. He must have been heading to his car. His eyes swept past her, lingering for just a second before moving on. He’d heard. She knew he’d heard. The parking lot wasn’t that big, and Victor’s voice carried. But Marcus kept walking. Didn’t stop. Didn’t acknowledge her. Just continued toward his black Mercedes like she was part of the scenery. Elara stood there, watching him disappear into his car, and felt something cold settle in her chest. Of course he didn’t care. Why would he? She was just the assistant. Just another problem that wasn’t his to solve. She went back inside, grabbed her bag from her office, and left without telling anyone. The building felt too small suddenly. Too suffocating. “Elara!” Emeka caught her at the elevator, slightly out of breath like he’d jogged to catch up. “Where are you going? It’s only 2 PM.” “I need to see my mum.” The lie came easily. Too easily. “She’s not feeling well.” His expression softened immediately. “Oh babe, I’m sorry. Do you need anything?” “No. I just need to go.” “Okay. Text me if you need me, yeah?” She nodded and stepped into the elevator before he could see her face crumble. The subway ride home was a blur. Bodies pressed together. The smell of sweat and cheap cologne. Someone’s music bleeding through their headphones. Elara stared at the floor and tried not to think about Victor’s words. Twenty-four hours. The house. Her mother. One million dollars. The thought of what happened at the office started coming back to her. It’s absurd she’s even thinking about it, it’s Marcus Thorne, why would ever want to marry Marcus Thorne, she thought to herself. No. She wasn’t that desperate. She wasn’t going to sell herself to Marcus Thorne for money. There had to be another way. Her apartment building looked the same as always. The familiar brownstone that had been home for the past five years. She climbed the steps to her floor, keys already in hand. The door was open. Elara stopped. She’d locked it this morning. She always locked it. Her hand pushed the door wider. Inside, her wardrobe was open, clothes thrown across the floor. Drawers pulled out and overturned. Everything scattered. “No. No no no.” She dropped her bag and ran to her bedroom closet. Shoved aside the shoes and boxes stacked at the bottom. Her hands found the metal lockbox she kept hidden in the back corner. It was open. The small lock was broken. Empty. Her heart skipped. Three thousand dollars. Every cent she’d managed to save over the past months. Money meant for her mother’s treatment. Money she’d scraped together from skipped meals and extra shifts and selling anything she didn’t absolutely need. Gone. Only one person had a key to her apartment. Luca. Her father had robbed her.

✨Click to watch👉👉Beauty and The Beta 💔‘Remember who I am Bailey. You are not above me. Never will be. Could have been equal to me at most had I seen you as suitable to be my mate, but no. You were beneath that honor.' He sneers.😡 🔥I felt anger racing through me. ‘And you think I would not have rejected you?' I snapped, moving back toward the exit, not wanting to be here anymore. Until I felt a hand grabbing the back of my tank top, yanking me back.😫 ⚠️‘You want to reject me? How dare you! Who else would want such a feeble pathetic wallflower like you? No one-' he said but was interrupted by a voice, which made him shiver.😮 💥‘I want her.' I looked at the clock on my bedroom wall. I think I have delayed the inevitable for as long as I physically can. I should go to the packhouse to go and wish our pack's upcoming Alpha a happy birthday. The bane of my life. My brother’s best friend. One day to be Alpha Miles. Today he will turn 17, and meet his Alpha wolf. In all honesty, he was egotistical enough, thinking the world revolved around him, without him adding to that by finally gaining his wolf. Not your run-of-the-mill werewolf either. Oh no, Miles Davenport was destined to be an Alpha, so he would have a strong and powerful Alpha wolf, only adding to his arrogance and strength. The crazy thing is, Miles had once upon a time been one of my closet friends too. In my younger childhood... Friends, that kind of thing comes when your father is the Beta to the Alpha. The children spend a lot of time together, and become friends. My older brother, Jordan, became the wing-man to Miles. His closest friend and ally, who as his Beta when the time came, was only right. But as the years went on, the friendship between Miles and I changed. Friendship faded as he grew into a more popular sports star of our school. At the end of the day, he was always going to be popular, he was the upcoming Alpha after all, but as one of the top sports stars too, he was idolized. As was my brother. All the girls in school flocked around them like they were pop stars or something, and it was bizarre. I was nothing more to him now but a source of amusement for him and his sports buddies. A geek. Not one of the beauty queens who followed him around. Simply someone to make fun of. I had gone from enjoying time with my one-day Alpha, to hating him, in the space of a school year. He thought he was god’s gift, and in all honesty, if he was, he is a gift I would return… “Bailey!” I heard my Mum call from downstairs, telling me I was definitely running it close now for time. I know Jordan had already headed over to the packhouse a while ago with my Dad to meet his friend and our Alpha. “I know.” I yelled back, looking at the books on my desk, desperate to continue with the assignment I was working on. I would so much rather continue working on the assignment and gain the additional credit available, work toward going to the college I want to go to instead of going to a party for the big-headed bully, I got to consider almost family, considering he was the son of my Dad’s best friend. I stood from my seat, and walked to my mirror, adjusting my black skater dress I had chosen to wear today. Something plain and simple, easy to blend into the background, but a dress all the same if anyone asked why I hadn’t made an effort. Along with my chunky black sandals, I looked presentable, not that anyone would be looking at me. Today, all eyes would be on the birthday boy, as they always were. He would make sure of that. I flicked back my curly brown hair, before I walked out of the door, already dreading the hours that lay ahead… My Mum pulled the car into the parking spaces outside the packhouse, while my younger sister Morgan was flicking at the curls around my head, simply trying to irritate me. She knew I would rather be anywhere but here right now, and was loving every last moment of it. “Aww, you want to go home Bailey-boo?” she teased. “Stop you two, come on, your Dad is waiting inside. Let us go and find the birthday boy.” Mum says, sounding cheerful, completely oblivious to the fact how horrendous this party had the potential to be. She, too, worshiped Miles. Having seen him grow up alongside my brother, she seemed to think the sun shone out of his rear-end. It had always driven me insane. “He won’t even notice us there.” I muttered under my breath as I followed her up the steps of the back house, shaking my head at my sister and how overdressed she looked. She definitely looked like she was out to impress someone today. A small part of me wondered if she hoped she might be the fated mate of Miles. After all, he was meeting his Alpha wolf today. He will have shifted for the first time today, and today could potentially be the day he can sense his fated mate out there waiting for him! There had been so much buzz around school about this, so many of the girls were excited about the potential possibility they could be his fated mate. The one chosen for him by the moon goddess. The one destined to be with him. So many of them are desperate for it to be them. While there I was desperate for anything but. I could think of nothing worse! Yet, looking at the amount of effort my younger sister had made today, I am beginning to think she was one of the many she-wolves that was holding out that hope… We walked through the corridors of the packhouse, and it was filled with various pack members. Today was a day of celebration within pack, the birthday of the upcoming Alpha. And not just any birthday, the day he came of age. The day he met his Alpha wolf. The walls of the packhouse were adorned with decorations, music was blaring from various speakers dotted around the multiple rooms. “Ooff, sorry!” a giggling she-wolf said to me as she nearly knocked me off my feet as she knocked into me. I would rather be anywhere but here right now. This was far too hectic and far too loud for me. I simply glare at the back of the girl as she moves away from me, not a care in the world. I followed my Mum and my sister, who was almost skipping as she walked, toward the main lounge area. I can only assume my Mum had mindlinked my Dad to let him know we had arrived, and he said they were there, or else we could spend all day looking around for them! It appeared almost every member of the pack had turned up to celebrate the birthday of Miles Davenport. The lounge area was laden with people, music truly blasting, and everyone seeming to have a good time. Everyone but me. I caught the eye of my brother, leaning against the wall of the lounge, the furthest away from the door we had just walked into. He nodded in my direction before simply turning away. ‘Could have made an effort, Bailey.’ he mindlinked. ‘It is a birthday, not a funeral, you know?’ I felt my heart sink at his words. Great, the insults were starting already, which meant it would only be a matter of time until Miles started too. The two of them seemed to like working together like that. Finding great enjoyment in harassing me. I was only a year younger than both of them, and had desperately hoped the name-calling and insulting would ease off as they got a little older, but if anything, they seemed to get worse. All because I wasn’t like the girls they were interested in, I was sure of it. I wasn’t like the other girls. Made myself an easy target, my Mum told me, all because I enjoyed studying. Liked reading and learning. Said, I only made it harder for myself. The plan was to make it easier for myself by finding a way out… “Jordan says your dress looks like you are going to a funeral, Bailey.” Morgan teased, fluffing up my curls again. My long brown hair fell in thick, unruly curls down my back. They drove me mad at times. Especially when my brother and sister decide to mess with them. “Oh well, I wore a dress, like you asked.” I snapped, moving away from them, feeling angry already, so tempted just to turn around and walk home, only to be pulled back by my Mum. “We are going to wish Miles a happy birthday. You will stay for a while at least. I do not need to be explaining to your Aunt and Uncle yet again why you have walked out on a social event, Bailey.” Mum warned me, her tone sounding grumpy, I swear she had to have read my thoughts on leaving the party already. I am sure she hated having me as a daughter, likely wishing for one that was more sociable, and one that enjoyed being a part of everything, instead of one that would rather have her head in a book. “Awww, Happy Birthday, Miles!” I heard my sister squeal from by my side. I swear she spoke at a pitch so high only dogs could hear. Goddess knows why she is so excited. It is only his birthday. He likely doesn’t even care, he never normally does… As I looked up, his blue eyes were locked on me, I raised my gaze to meet his, and could see his eyes shift to a darker blue… was that his wolf? I see a snarl across his face as he suddenly storms from the room. What was that about? ‘Get out here.’ Miles is suddenly mindlinking me, and I have to say he sounded far from impressed. That, combined with the angry expression on his face, told me something was off. Would he have rather I had not come? Well, he was not the only one… ‘What?’ I questioned, completely confused. Was he annoyed over how I had dressed too? Jeez, it was just a dress. Does it really matter? I would go home if it was. ‘Outside now.’ He demanded once more, sounding even more irritated this time, making me realize I had little choice but to follow his orders, so I snuck away from the ongoing party back to the doors of the packhouse. Only to find Miles pacing along the bottom of the steps, looking a mixture of confused and angry. So why did he need me here? Someone to take his anger out on? I was not willing to be that, I was sure about that… Just as I was about to walk away, he looked up. “Crap took you long enough.” He snapped. I frowned, unsure what this was all about, but it was making no sense to me as I looked down toward him from where I stood at the top of the packhouse steps. His blue eyes shifted to the dark blue once more, like they had inside, taking me by surprise. His wolf is clearly lingering… “What is wrong, Miles? Do you want me to get Jordan?” I asked. “No I do not! I do not want anyone knowing this.” He snarls, a growl slipping from his lips, though whether that was aimed at me or whether his wolf was angry at him, I do not know… “I don’t think I understand…” I began. “You soon will.” He sneers, and I simply look to him in confusion. Nothing he says makes sense to me. Until he continues. “Only today did I realize. The thought makes me sick. Why our own moon goddess would play a trick like this on me, I don’t know. I am an Alpha. An Alpha. I deserve a strong mate. A beautiful mate to be proud of. Not some feeble pathetic wallflower.” My body trembles at his words. No. I had yet to gain my wolf. I did not know this yet. Why… Why him of all people? “I am your fated mate?” I question with a shaky voice. “Are you sure?” “Are you doubting me?” he yells. “And you won’t be. The moment you have your wolf, I will decide when the time is right to reject you.” My heart twists and contorts at the thought. Rejection was meant to be the most painful thing possible. Why would he want to reject the mate chosen for him by our own moon goddess? Am I truly so repulsive? A Year Later Yet another birthday party for our beloved upcoming Alpha. Ha. Not my beloved upcoming Alpha. I hated the man. Breaking my heart without a second thought. What I had done to deserve that I had never got a proper explanation from him. Other than the frequent insults, of why would he want to be with someone like me? Did I look like Luna material to him? I had no clue. What did Luna material look like in his eyes? Some blond bimbo, no doubt. They were the she-wolves he tended to spend his time with within our pack. The ones who worshiped the ground he walked on. That would do anything he asked of them. Ones that I highly doubted read much more than the work set of them at school. “Bailey!” my Mum yelled at me from the stairway of our family home. “Will you hurry up?!” “Do I really need to come to the party?” I responded. “I am telling you, Miles will not be bothered if I am not there!” “Your Aunt and Uncle will be though. And I am not explaining to them again why you are missing.” My Mum continues yelling. “Do you not realize just how many events you have missed this year, all because you have your head in a book?” “Yeah Bai-Bai. Such a geek. No wonder you have no friends.” My sister Morgan giggles from outside my bedroom door. “Piss off.” I hissed. “I have friends.” I stormed from my room, and down the stairs toward my waiting family. I planned to greet the birthday boy, not that he would care in the slightest. I know that he would rather not see me at all. And then I would sneak home. “Ew, are you wearing that?” Morgan asked. I looked down at the skinny black trousers I had on and the white tank top. Great. I can’t win. Nothing I wear is approved of by my sister, evidently named the fashion queen without my knowledge. Oh well, I am dressed and wearing it. I think it looked good with my chunky black sandals I had on… I scowled at my sister and walked out of the door. “Are we going or not?” I snapped at them all, truly not able to wait for the following month when I leave to go to university. Get away from them, and this pack! The party was well underway when we arrived, music pounding from the speakers as couples made out in every available space, so I averted my eyes as we walked through the corridors of the packhouse to the lounge where we would no doubt find Miles reigning over his people. Being all important, like he was partial to considering himself. ‘Why are you here?’ Miles’s voice filled my mindlink, before I had even fully entered the room behind my parents. Great. ‘I didn’t get a choice. Trust me, I would rather not be.’ I snapped back. I was getting more than a little tired of the way he would treat me. Yes, he planned on rejecting me. Decided I was not for him, but he could have left it at that. I didn’t need treating like I was some sort of social pariah because of the fact he decided I was not right for him. I do not think I deserved that. I had endured enough bullying through my time in high school, for the fact I enjoyed my education. ‘Oh. Excuse me? Are you implying you were not going to come to the party of your next Alpha?’ Miles links with some serious attitude. ‘Miles, you just asked why I had bothered coming. Now you are asking if I was not going to come? Make your mind up.’ I argued. ‘Remember who I am Bailey. You are not above me. Never will be. Could have been equal to me at most had I seen you as suitable to be my mate, but no. You were beneath that honor.’ He sneers. I felt anger racing through me. ‘And you think I would not have rejected you?’ I snapped, moving back toward the exit, not wanting to be here anymore. Until I felt a hand grabbing the back of my tank top, yanking me back. My eyes darted upward to see the dark eyes of Miles. Sneering down at me. Our Pack’s upcoming Alpha. The most arrogant man I think I have ever met. One, thankfully, I did not have to be mates with any longer as the stupid had chosen to reject his own fated mate before even giving her a chance. “Going somewhere Bailey?” he asked, his voice full of spite. “Well, I do believe you asked me why I was here, so I assumed you wanted me to leave.” I told him. Miles bows his head down so it is level with mine, he inhales deeply, like he still enjoys the scent of me. He has done this numerous times of late, which I find quite bizarre. But, I ignore him as he tilts his head to look at me, “Hmm, I think my Mum and Dad may have something to say if you leave. Their clever little Bailey. Heaven forbid.” He presses his forehead against mine. “Just stay away from me, and do not spoil my fun.” I shake my head in disbelief at him, as he stalks away. Did he even think for a moment I would be going near him if I could avoid it? I would rather be anywhere but near him! “Bailey, why are you harassing my friend for?” I heard my brother, Jordan demand, as he suddenly approached, causing many people to turn around and look at me. Wonderful. Nothing like starting pack gossip is there. I am sure Miles would appreciate that! “I wasn’t harassing him, he came to speak to me. Asking why I had come.” I told him, and my brother laughed. He is as much an idiot as Miles. Any of my friends who have big brothers hate how protective they are. Me? No, my big brother is the one leading all the bullying and treating me badly. He finds great embarrassment in the fact his younger sister is far from being one of the popular group, and is, in his words, ‘far too into her books’. I think, in all honesty, my entire family found me, in one way or another, a huge embarrassment. “Well, he has a point. Not like you will be joining in with the celebrations. You will probably be sitting in a quiet corner somewhere reading.” He teases. “Well, it is certainly more intellectually pleasing than any of you would be.” I smirked at him as I walked away from my brother who was standing looking confused. I am sure he had no clue what I meant. The scary thing is he will be the next, pack Beta. Heaven help our pack. Between him and Miles they only had one brain cell between them, and that was one that they shared, I am sure of it! And even then, I think it was rechargeable and started losing power and knowledge at a rapid rate! They only graduated high school because they paid people to do their work for them. As I snuck away, out of the busy lounge to the top of the stairway, where I hoped to hide out for as long as possible, I heard footsteps behind me. I quickly turned, hoping it was simply someone on their way to their bedroom or even to one of the spare bathrooms on this floor. But, sadly, luck was not on my side tonight. No. Miles was following me. Eyebrows raised and looking quite irritated. “Oi. I want to talk to you.” he demanded. “You asked me to go away a minute ago, didn’t you?” I asked him. “Don’t think so, think it was more a case of why you were here.” Miles says with a smirk. Sitting on the top step with me. “Miles, you have the whole pack here for your birthday, I am sure whatever you need to speak to me about can wait.” I shrugged, desperately craving peace, which, considering the pounding beat of the music playing, would be difficult. “No. Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” he questions, like he is irate at the fact I had not let him know. Why would I let him know? “Why would I? We aren’t friends, Miles. You also are not my Alpha yet. It was arranged with my parents, me and your Dad, as Alpha.” I explained to him, unsure why this would even bother him. If anything, I would think he would be glad to get rid of me. “You are going away though.” he murmurs. “That is generally what happens when you go to college or university. Yeah.” I said with another shrug. “There wasn’t one closer to home?” he hisses. “Because it seems to me you picked the one furthest away.” “What does it matter to you? You hate me. I won't be here, You get your wish of being rid of me.” I snapped, truly sick of him trying to dictate to me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I had worked hard in school, so I could do this. My parents had spoken to my Aunt and Uncle, the Luna and Alpha of our pack to allow me special permission to go to a university out of state to study, saying it was what I had dreamed of. I had nothing holding me back. And, with the fact Miles did not want me for his mate, or his Luna, I truly did not. Not that any of them knew of that. That was our own secret. Even despite the pull to him as my mate since my wolf had arrived, I still found him truly repulsive. He sickened me. Though, the pains when he slept with the many she-wolves that visited his bed, made it even easier to detest the man that he had become. I still had no clue what I had done to deserve this treatment from this man, other than not being one of the popular group. But, I knew I deserved better than him. Miles glanced at me, momentarily a thoughtful look passed over his face, almost caring, before a hardness replaced it. “That much is true. No more having to see the disappointing failure the moon goddess made of mating me to you. At least not for a few years. Who knows, perhaps you will meet someone while there. I suggest you do. That way you won’t have to come back, because, I, as Alpha, will be looking for my Luna.” “Miles, I honestly do not care if you find someone else.” I told him, going to stand and head home, not wishing to spend another moment in the same place as him. As I went to move away, he grabbed my hand, pulling me to him, so I was once more sitting level with him on the top step of the first floor landing of our packhouse. “Always so righteous aren’t you Bailey? You say you don’t care? We will see. Well, this will be on my terms. I, Miles Davenport, reject you, Bailey West, as my fated mate…” he began, and my head began to whirl as his words sunk in. The realization and excruciating pain of what was happening becoming too much for me…

The Chosen by Marcus Lee. Chapter One. ‘Hold on, and don't let go.' I look around, wondering if there will be more instructions, but the door to the room has already closed. I'm gagged securely and have been told by a masked captor not to remove it. Whilst my hands and feet are free, I don't dare untie the gag, not yet. Others are crammed into the room with me, all in soiled clothing, filthy from their journey here, wherever here is. Everyone is wide-eyed and scared as they look upon each other for the first time. It seems we're all roughly the same age, although of varying size. I want to scream and cry for help, but that will be a waste of energy. A moon globe hangs from the ceiling, lighting the room we've been herded into. The floors, walls, and ceiling are covered by panelled wood. As my fingers absently trace the grain, I discover the wall surface is marred by hundreds of scratches, whereas the floor and ceiling shine with a deep, polished lustre. Despite still being held captive, at least I can now walk around. It's the first time in two weeks that I've been allowed out of a small crate that confined me like a caged animal. Two weeks in a box stinking of panic, fear, and claustrophobia, my only company the desperate voices and tears of unseen others. Hold on, and don't let go. What does that mean, Malina? I ask myself. I study my surroundings while most of the youths sit on the floor, exhausted. Some try to untie the gags, which are so tight that it's hard to breathe. Thirteen leather loops hang from near the moon globe above me. Another is placed in each corner of the room - seventeen in total. I wonder what they might be for. Seventeen loops, but over twenty people. Hmmm. Even on tiptoes, they're just beyond my fingertips. As I lower my arm, I catch the gaze of a filthy, blond lad taking note of what I'm doing. His hair and cleft chin suggests an Astorian bloodline, and he has the strangest eyes. There's a distant jangling of chains, followed by a grinding noise, and then the floor begins to shudder. Those sitting, scramble to their feet, as with a lurch, the floor splits down the centre. Everyone moves quickly away from the gap as the floor shakes and begins to slide back beneath the walls. It isn't long before the distance between the two sides of the floor is about two paces wide. Cold fetid air rises from the depths, and I retreat away from the edge with growing unease. Hold on, and don't let go. The bigger boys begin shoving anyone and everyone smaller out of the way, so they can get closer to the corners' transient safety, and being one of the smallest, I can't even get near. Two boys are trying to open the door, banging on it, pushing their shoulders hard against the unforgiving wood, but to no avail. Relentlessly, the floor continues to move, and the gap between the two halves becomes ever wider. Moans of fear fill the small room, and several boys and girls are crying. A puddle of urine gathers at the feet of a boy, and everyone edges away. Don't just stand here! I admonish myself. I'd always been quick of mind in the orphanage, but here I am, freezing from fear. I quickly move to the open edge of the floor and gaze down into the black abyss. The moon globe that easily illuminates the whole room doesn't shed enough light to penetrate to the bottom. The air that comes from below is foul. It reminds me of the back of the butcher's shop situated behind the orphanage. It assaults my senses, smelling like rotting meat. If the floor continues to open at the same rate, people will soon start to fall in, and being small, I’ll be one of the first. Do something! I look at the loops in the middle of the ceiling. It's still an easy jump to grab them, but I'll be left hanging over a horrifying drop, and for how long, I don't know. I'm skinny, malnourished, and it's unlikely I can hold on for long. I'd have preferred the straps in the corner, but I can't get through the press of bigger youths. Another lurch, and those banging on the door move away as the floor retracts further. Everyone here has the same filthy, disowned look I have. No one wears fine clothes, has good shoes, or even a semblance of styled hair. They're all outcasts, perhaps orphans like me. No one will miss us if we die here. Hold on, and don't let go. My heart has never beat this fast. I make a decision, and my hands shake. It's hard to catch my breath past the thick gag, but it's now or never. I take two steps back, then, propelled by trembling legs, leap and catch hold of the dangling leather. My sweaty palm slips, and I expect to fall, but as my weight bears down, the leather loop tightens around my hand, lending me its support. Tears course down my cheeks. I've been frightened many times in my life; fear is nothing new, but this! Sobs wrack my body. Below my feet is nothing but blackness, and those words resound in my head. Hold on, and don't let go. Swinging my legs, I bring up my other hand to grab the leather and only then note the wide-eyed gazes of everyone huddling against the walls directed at me. Suddenly, the blond boy runs from the group and leaps, catching hold of the loop next to mine. He sways wildly back and forth, but his grip is sure and strong. Once again, our eyes meet. One of his eyes is blue, the other green. To have different coloured eyes is to be considered cursed in Astoria, and those born with this defect are usually killed at birth. I'd never seen anyone with them before. Then again, most people have never seen yellow eyes like mine either. We stare at each other for a while, and I can sense his terror, but he manages a brisk nod. Others quickly follow our lead with a pounding of feet and squeals of fear. The grinding gears screech louder, and the floor retracts faster. The largest boys have claimed the loops in each corner of the room, securing their safety. They bully everyone else away, fists pummel those who are too slow to move. Only the strong will survive, the law of the streets. The distance between the floor and the central straps widens, and a small girl gathers her courage and leaps. She doesn't make it. With a gag tied firmly around her mouth, she can't even scream as she disappears, arms and legs flailing, to be swallowed whole by the darkness. My tears follow, falling into the depths along with others from those now hanging around me. There are only two straps left vacant in the middle of the ceiling, and a further two girls run and jump. Thankfully, they make the distance and hang on, knuckles white, swinging backwards and forwards like ripe fruit. The smell of fresh faeces fills the air, nauseating, overtaking the smell of rotting flesh. I want to vomit in fear and disgust at the smell, but know that if I do, the gag will cause me to choke, so I swallow the reflex down. All the loops are now taken, yet two boys and three girls are still pressed tight against the walls, the edge of the floor mere inches from their toes. They try to dig their fingers into the wood, desperate to find a purchase. Now I realise where the hundreds of scratches have come from. The two boys look around desperately. Having failed to secure the corner loops, they now eye those of us dangling from the middle of the ceiling. I guess what's going through their minds. Please, no! The two boys, arriving at the same decision, leap as one. There are no free straps left, and they’re too far to have made it anyway, but they leap nonetheless and grab onto the ankles of the girls who'd last made the jump. Seconds later, all four disappear into the pit, arms and legs kicking. Not long after, the three girls trying desperately to hold on to the wood panelling, follow, their deaths strangely quiet. As I look around, fifteen of us hang on, arms trembling, sweat, tears and urine dripping. By the time the floor is cranked back into place, only twelve remain. Everyone falls to the floor. The smell of fear is rank, and I know my own stench adds to the thickness of the air. How long we wallow in misery and our own filth is hard to say. My hope that this ordeal is over is shattered when the gears start rumbling, chains jangle, and the horror begins all over again. This time around, I struggle to hold on from the very beginning. My hands are tired, and the loop I've chosen is damp with sweat. Quickly, the pain in my hands, arms, and shoulders becomes excruciating. Maybe I should just let go, fall into the dark embrace of the pit, and end the torment? My moans are pitiful through the gag as death approaches and whispers to me like a friend. Just as I'm about to give in to that seductive voice, the Astorian boy comes to my rescue, his hand closing over mine. It hurts, his grip is powerful, but now I can't let go even if I want to. The floor grinds shut again, and as I land, collapsing in exhaustion, I’m shocked that just eight of us are left. The door to the room opens, and a robed and masked woman enters. The eyes give away her sex, as does her movement; graceful, purposeful, feet placed with certainty. Yet every step somehow exudes the potential for violence, like a predator stalking prey. 'You will say nothing. You will do as you're told without hesitation. There are to be no questions. If you fail at anything, you will die. If you question anything or disobey my command, you will die.' The voice is slightly muffled by the cloth mask, yet the message is simple and chilling. Like a cat, the woman stalks amongst us, a glistening, tiny dagger in her hand. With swift movements, she severs our gags. I draw in a deep breath, almost choking at the stench, but so grateful at being able to breathe freely. The woman walks toward the door, pauses, and looks over her shoulder, beckoning for us to follow. 'My name is Lystra,' she says. 'Follow me if you want a chance to live.' ***** We scurry along corridors illuminated by torches. Their flickering red light creates a hellish ambience, and I wonder if I should have let go of the loop after all, and embraced sudden death. The air here is tinged with dampness, and I fear some disgusting spores will take root and fester in my lungs if I survive. Our soiled clothes only add to the foulness of the air. Sobs and whimpering accompany the scuff of stumbling footsteps as my rag-tag group of filthy survivors follow Lystra, too scared to disobey or be left behind. She halts at a closed iron-reinforced door, and we hang back, not daring to approach too close. After a quick search within her robes, she produces a key and turns it in the lock. It swings silently open under her touch. Fresh air wafts in, and following a flick of Lystra’s hand, we file past, heads bowed. As I step into the open, the horror I’d just survived briefly fades. I gawk in wonder, for although I stand in something akin to hell, it’s a hell overlooked by the heavens. I'd witnessed a training ring before, outside the soldiers' barracks in my hometown, and there’s no doubt I’m standing in one. Yet, despite its familiarity, it's as unlike that training circle I knew as fire is to water. My rag-tag group and I stand in the heart of a mountain or maybe a dead volcano. Way above us, blue sky and clouds offer a tantalising glimpse of heaven, and indeed, the interior slopes of the mountain are covered in trees and vines, lush and colourful. I can see birds flying amongst the foliage and animals leaping around. Yet, as my gaze travels downward, the vista begins to change. First, the mountainside from halfway down is blackened, stripped of natural growth, and looks to have been burnt down to the bare rock. Then, below that, it's been fashioned into a coarse, circular wall. Above the wall on the far side of the circle is a balcony upon which five dark-robed figures stand, observing us as if we were nothing but insects scurrying around their feet. Set intermittently within the wall are doors, and from them, groups of filthy, frightened youths spew forth. Shortly, there are about sixty of us staring around, a mixture of wonder, hopelessness and fear plastered on our faces. Stop gawking, Malina. Take stock! I’m standing at the perimeter of the training ring ... but what a ring. It measures about two hundred paces across, with a raised circular dais in the centre. Robed guards hold crossbows at the ready wherever I look. I don't know how long I've been standing here, but Lystra's sharp voice cuts through my thoughts. 'If you want to live, you won't be the last to the dais and back again.' Silence greets her words, not that anyone would dare question anything. Then I see movement from the corner of my eye, and as I look around, I can see the other distant groups of children streaming toward the central dais. Almost as one, we turn and throw ourselves into this race for life. The bare rock of the training circle floor is uneven, and my bare feet hurt with every step. Six of my group are already pulling ahead, and I strive to run faster. Running was never my strong suit, and I haven't eaten sufficiently in weeks. I feel weak, and my gasps for breath quickly turn to sobs. A tubby boy runs next to me as we lag behind the others. We’re still fifteen paces from the dais as those ahead turn and race back toward us. I can see his wide eyes snatching glances at me as sweat pours down his face. Come on, Malina, I urge myself. Faster! Then. as everyone runs past, skinny arms and legs pumping, I find myself alone as I reach the dais. I touch it with my hand, then turn back. I’m too slow, and worse, I can barely see. Tears and snot stream down my face, running into my mouth as those ahead finish the race. Finally, I catch up to the group, lungs heaving. No one looks up except for him with the strange eyes. On his face, as if clearly written, I can see relief for himself but also sorrow as he looks at me. Lystra draws a long dagger from within her sleeve and stalks toward me. RUN! Despite my survival instinct telling my legs to move, I don’t have the strength. I wish I could, although to where I don't know, but anywhere to be able to draw breath a few more times would suffice. Maybe I'd have used the time to look at the sky and see the clouds a final time. Yes, the clouds. I tilt my head back. Look at the clouds closely, Malina. You won’t see Lystra, her blade, or even feel it! Death will end this nightmare. Lystra’s footsteps approach and stop. I’d heard it said that when death is upon you, all your memories flash in front of your eyes. I just wish I’d had happier ones. ----- Prepare yourself for a relentless tale of survival that spans worlds, is filled with creatures of legend, tales of redemption, love, betrayal, and an incredible prophecy that might just save the human race. It all begins with the Mountain of Souls and continues with The Last Hope, The River of Tears, The Oldest Foe, and the finale, The Chains of Destiny. ----- For lovers of:- High Fantasy | Dark Fantasy | Heroic Fantasy | Epic Fantasy | Action and Adventure | Sword and Sorcery ----- FREE on Kindle Unlimited. Also available formats: Kindle | Print | Audible

💔💔💔😭"My crush is shamelessly having sex with my roommate next door. Unable to endure it, I was forced to move into Julian’s house. An arrogant hockey captain, the boy who has been silently watching me since we were children... After evolving from friends into a more dangerous relationship, I became pregnant. However, his hesitation-free departure left me heartbroken... Should I keep holding on, or throw myself into the arms of the crush who has been with me for many years?" ****** Aria’s pov. The moans slipped through the wall, again. Luca, my best friend, my secret crush for years, was having sex with my roommate on the other side of the wall. The sounds were louder than usual tonight, a sharp, rhythmic thudding against the drywall that felt like it was happening inside my own head. It felt deliberate, like Serena wanted to make sure I heard every single gasp, every single second of her winning. It was a shitty way to end a twelve-hour double shift at the coffee shop. I lay on my bed, my eyes burning from the caffeine and the fluorescent lights I’d been under all day. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. Serena’s moans were reckless. I looked at the small, framed photo on the corner of my desk—my parents and my older brother, Anthony, smiling in the sun. They’ve been gone for five years now. The car accident that took them when I was fifteen shattered my entire world in a single afternoon. Luca was the only one who didn't let me drown in the silence of that empty house. He held me while I cried until I had no tears left. He stayed when everyone else eventually went back to their lives. He was my anchor, my only piece of home left in the world. That’s why I followed him here to Westbridge University. I gave up a full ride at my dream school just so I wouldn't have to face a single day without him nearby. What a massive, pathetic fool I was. Now I was just the scholarship girl working two jobs while he lived the life of a rich playboy. I’d watched him date dozens of girls over the years. I used to just sit back and wait for them to vanish, which they usually did after a month or two. I told myself they were just distractions, toys he used because he wasn't ready for something real. But Serena felt different. She didn't feel like a distraction, she felt like a permanent replacement. The noise from the next room spiked again, a loud moan that made my skin crawl with a mix of nausea and rage. The lack of sleep and the physical ache in my back from standing all day finally made something inside me snap. I pushed myself up from the bed so fast it felt like the world jolted with me. I stormed into the hallway of our suite and hammered my fist against Serena’s door with everything I had. "Keep it the down, you two!" I yelled. My voice sounded raw, cracking under the weight of the frustration I’d been bottling up for weeks. "Some of us actually have to work for a living in the morning!" The noise stopped instantly. It was replaced by a silence so heavy I could feel it pressing against my eardrums. I didn't wait for a response. I turned around, went back into my room, and shut my door hard enough to make the walls tremble. I fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to force my heart to stop racing. A few minutes later, there was a sharp, aggressive knock on my door. I thought it was Luca coming to apologize, but when I opened it, Serena was leaning against the frame. She wore one of Luca’s oversized t-shirts, looking like she’d stepped out of a magazine. She had a smirk on her face that made me want to slap the look right off her. "You're very grumpy tonight, Aria," She said, pushing past me into my room. "I'm tired, Serena. I just want to sleep. Get out," I said, my voice flat and exhausted. She leaned against my dresser, looking at me with this fake, sugary pity that made my stomach turn. "Is it really the noise that's bothering you? Or is it the person making me scream?" she asked. I felt a flush of heat creep up my neck, my face burning with a humiliation I couldn't hide. "I don't know what you're talking about," I lied. "Oh come on. I'm not blind. Just admit it. You’re in love with him," she said, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "Every time he touches me, you feel like you're dying inside, don't you?" she asked. I couldn't breathe. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I looked past her and saw Luca standing in the hallway. He was frozen there, his hair messy, his shirt unbuttoned. He had heard everything. He looked confused and deeply uncomfortable, like he was looking at a car wreck he didn't want to be involved in. He didn't defend me. He didn't tell her she was being cruel. He just stood there, avoiding my gaze, letting the silence confirm everything Serena said. "Get out," I told her. My voice was trembling now, and I hated myself for it. "Both of you. Get the out of my room," I said. Serena let out a soft, mean laugh and walked back into the hall. Luca stayed for a second longer, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something, but he eventually just followed her back into her room. I locked the door and stayed awake for a while, too embarrassed to stop thinking, replaying the look on his face, everything I should have said, everything I didn’t. I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep. ★ The next morning was beyond awkward. I tried to stay in my room as long as possible, but I eventually had to go to the kitchen for coffee. I ran right into Luca. He looked perfectly fine, looking like he’d slept for ten hours, while I looked like a ghost. The eye bags were heavy under my eyes and my stare was probably enough to frighten the dead. "Hey, Ri," he said. He was acting like the fight last night didn't even happen. "My mom called today," he said, pouring himself some juice. "She wants to host a dinner for Serena this weekend. She wants to officially meet her," he continued. I felt a sharp, icy pain in my chest that made it hard to swallow. Luca had never brought a girl home to his parents before. Not once in all the years I’d known him. Only me. I was the only girl who had ever met his family, and I had secretly convinced myself it would stay that way until it was my turn for real. "That's nice," I said, keeping my voice as dead as I felt inside. "I want you to come with us," he said. He beamed at me, like he was doing me a favor. "It’ll be less awkward if you’re there you know. You can even study in the library at my house while we do the dinner," he added. He was serious. He really expected me to sit at his family’s table and watch him play house with the girl who had just destroyed me. He didn't care about my feelings. He didn't even care that Serena had humiliated me right in front of him. To him, I was just a fixture. A doll that came along for the ride. At that moment, I realized the truth. He was serious about her. And I was officially being replaced. "I can't go, Luca. I'm busy," I said. "Busy with what? You always come home with me on weekends," he argued. "Not anymore. I have plans," I said, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. I don’t owe you any explanation for how I choose to live my life. I walked away before he could say another word. I went back into my room and pulled up my banking app. I stared at the balance, calculating every penny from my scholarship and my shifts. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get me a deposit on a tiny room somewhere else. I looked at the thin dorm walls and realized I couldn’t stay here another night. I was done being the backup friend. Tonight, I’m leaving. .............................................................................. Aria’s pov. I didn't even bother looking in the mirror before I walked out of my room. I knew I looked like a ghost, but I didn't care. I grabbed my phone and my work bag, checking to make sure I had my keys and nothing else. I was halfway to the front door when Serena stepped into the hallway, still wearing that same smug look from last night. "Leaving so soon? Luca hasn't even finished his breakfast yet," she said mockingly. Her voice was like a slow-acting poison, and I could feel it working its way under my skin. "Stay out of my way, Serena. For real," I said. I didn't wait for her to come up with some clever comeback. I just pushed past her and walked out of the dorm, stepping right into a miserable, gray downpour. The rain was freezing, soaking through my thin shirt in seconds, but it felt better than being inside that suite. I walked all the way to the coffee shop where I worked, my head spinning with every step. When I pushed through the door, the bell jingled loudly, and the warmth of the shop hit me like a physical wall. Mark, my manager, looked up from the register and let out a low whistle. "Aria? You’re not on the schedule until four. You look like a drowned rat, kid," he said. "I’m fine. Mark, do you have a minute? I really need to talk to you," I said. I was shivering so hard my teeth were practically chattering. "Sure, what's up? You look like you're about to have a breakdown," he said. "I have some major accommodation issues. I can't stay in my dorm anymore. Like, I need a new place today," I told him. I was trying to keep my voice down, but the shop was quiet and my voice was already shaky. "Do you know anyone with a spare room? Or a cheap studio? I have some savings, but I need it right now," I added. Mark rubbed his chin, looking concerned. "Today? That's a tall order, Aria. Most places near campus are booked solid this time of year. It's midterm season," he reminded me. I let out a frustrating sigh, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. "But you can post on the school website. I bet someone there could help you out," he suggested. I shook my head immediately. "I can't. Everyone on that site is a shark, Mark. I'm a scholarship kid. They'll just use it to rip me apart," I said. "Why? You really need it, don't you? Desperate times, Aria," he pushed. I opened my mouth to deny him again, but the image of Serena and Luca together in that hallway stabbed my vision. I couldn't bear another second of that nightmare. I pulled out my phone and opened the school website, a place I usually avoided like the plague unless I wanted to see who they were bullying that week. I typed in the words quickly: "Hi. Having major accommodation issues. If you have a room I can rent please, my DM is open. Urgent." I almost shuddered in disgust as I hit the button. The text felt tacky and reeked of desperation, but I didn't have any other cards to play. The site let out a little beep, confirming it had been uploaded to the public feed. "Done," I said to Mark, who was peering over the counter at me. "Good. Now we just wait and—" The notification sound on my phone disrupted his words. I shifted my gaze to the screen and froze. Someone had replied. Not in my DMs. Publicly. "I have an apartment. Meet me at the cafeteria if you are interested," the comment read. I almost screamed in joy, but the stone-faced gaze from a customer nearby snapped me back to reality. "Someone replied! Already!" I shoved the phone toward Mark. "See? I told you," he said, smiling warmly. "Who is it? Can you tell?" I asked. I read the username out loud. "J. Vance." I’d never heard of the name, but then again, I didn't exactly hang out with the elite crowd at this school. I figured it was probably a girl named Jules or maybe a nerd who felt sorry for me. "So when are you meeting the mystery person?" Mark asked. "They didn't give me time, so I'm guessing they want to meet now. It's almost lunch," I said. I looked at the clock on the wall. 9:45 a.m. "Go get ready. You can't meet a potential roommate looking like you just crawled out of a lake," Mark said. I nodded and hurried back to the dorm. Luckily, it was empty. Luca and Serena must have finally left for their morning classes. I walked past Luca’s room, and the door was slightly ajar. The air coming from inside still smelled like sex and cheap alcohol, making my stomach churn with a fresh wave of nausea. I slammed the door shut and went to my own room to change. I threw on my normal baggy jeans and a clean top, tossing my damp hair into a quick ponytail. I checked my reflection once, adjusted my glasses, and ran back out the door. When I stepped into the school cafeteria, it felt like the entire world stopped turning. All eyes turned to me, and for once, it wasn't the usual look of boredom. I ignored them and searched for Table 7, the spot the user had mentioned in their DM follow-up. I caught it in the corner. Someone was already sitting there. From the broad shoulders and the dark, expensive-looking hair, it definitely wasn't a girl named Jules. Shit. I hoped he wasn't some kind of pervert. I shoved the thought aside and walked closer, letting out a little cough to get his attention. "Hi. I'm here about the apartment. You commented on my post," I started rambling. Then he straightened up and turned around. I stopped talking. I stopped breathing. The world actually seemed to stop. Because sitting in the chair was Julian Vance. He was wearing a black pea coat that probably cost more than my entire year's tuition. He was the hockey captain. Every girl at Westbridge had a crush on him. He looked successful and untouchable, like he lived in a completely different universe than me. His dark eyes, which I hadn't seen up close in over a decade, widened just slightly. "Aria?" he asked, his voice a low, rough velvet, laced with genuine surprise. I could only manage a slow nod. "Hi, Julian." "It's been... ages," he said, the surprise quickly masked by his usual guarded demeanor. "I heard you were on campus, but I haven't seen you since—since you were about knee-high. I left campus with my father's company shortly after, remember?" "I do," I mumbled. "You... you were gone for a long time." "For a while, yeah. But I'm back now, obviously," he said, a ghost of a smile touching the corner of his lips. He leaned back in his seat, suddenly serious. "So, the apartment. I saw your post. What's going on? Are you okay?" "I am," I lied, too quickly. "Just accommodation issues. A misunderstanding with my... current situation." He nodded, his gaze unwavering, as if he knew exactly what I wasn't saying. "I have a place near the Heights. You can have the guest suite," he said. He wasn't even whispering. The whole cafeteria had gone dead silent. Every single jaw was hanging open in total shock. "Huh? You... you really mean it?" I whispered. "I-I thought you didn't even remember me." "I knew who you were, Ri," he said, using the old nickname. It felt like a punch to the gut. I almost forgot Luca and he came up with the nickname for me. "And yes, I mean it. I won't overcharge you, and I rarely use it anyway." He was talking, but my mind couldn't even process the words. He scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it out to me. Mindlessly, I took it. It was a phone number and an address. "Call me when you're ready to move," he said. He didn't wait for an answer. He just stood up and walked out like he owned every single inch of the floor he was walking on. I watched him disappear through the double doors, then looked back at the students. They were staring at me with a mix of envy, disgust, and pure, unadulterated hate. At that moment, I wanted the floor to open and swallow me. .............................................................................. Aria’s pov. I was hiding. I sat at the furthest corner table of the coffee shop, staring at the piece of paper Julian had given me in the cafeteria like it was a piece of radioactive waste. My phone wouldn't stop buzzing in my pocket. Notifications from the school website were blowing up, of course from other students, and I didn't even have to open them to know what they said. The lowly scholarship girl and the King of Hockey. What a headline. The gossip was spreading faster than a leak in a dam, and I was right at the center of it. I couldn't stop thinking about the look in Julian's eyes when he stood up and walked away. He didn't look like he was playing a prank. He looked like he was waiting for me to just say yes already. Everyone at Westbridge knew about the war between the Morettis and the Vances. It wasn't just a school rivalry, it was a blood feud between two massive companies that had been trying to bankrupt each other for some years now. Julian was the one everyone loved and cheered for, the quiet hero of the hockey team who had the whole campus wrapped around his finger. Luca was the opposite, the reckless playboy of the Moretti empire who spent more time flaunting his wealth than in a classroom. Growing up, I was always stuck in the middle of them. I remembered our kindergarten playground fights, back when we were kids—when they both swore I would be their bride. I thought it was all just a joke. We were only kids. Julian was the one who actually got his knuckles bloody fighting for me back then, standing his ground even when he was outnumbered. Luca would just use his charm to talk his way out of trouble, always smiling like the world owed him everything. I had always chosen to stay by Luca’s side, thinking his flashy charm was safer than whatever intense fire Julian had in his eyes. Even though I knew he was a reckless playboy, I couldn’t help but hope, just a little, that one day he would realize that I love him. What a massive mistake that turned out to be. "Aria! My God, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!" I jumped slightly as my best friend, Elena, slid into the chair across from me, her eyes wide with total shock. She slammed her phone down on the table, showing the school’s main forum page. Julian’s public reply to my post was the top-rated comment, with hundreds of likes and even more people losing their minds in the replies. "Aria, tell me right now why Julian Vance is offering you a luxury suite in the Heights," she demanded. I sighed and told her everything—the desperate need of an apartment, how I had to put up the notice on the site and then how he just handed me his number and walked out. I also told her about the dorm drama. From the whole sex charade to the dinner invite Luca gave me for Serena. Elena looked like she was having a heart attack right there in the middle of the shop. "You have to do it. You have to call him right now," she said. "I can't just move in with a guy I haven't seen in over a decade, Elena. We talked for two minutes and it was so intense. It's too much," I argued. "Aria, look at yourself. You're exhausted, you're hiding, and your 'best friend' is busy bringing another girl home to meet his parents," she said. She leaned across the table, her voice getting serious. "Julian is the golden boy here for a reason. He’s responsible and he’s quiet. If he’s opening his door for you publicly, he's basically protecting you from the fallout," she added. "He probably just wants to spite Luca," I muttered. "Who cares? It's your chance to finally stop being Luca's shadow. He’s never going to choose you, Aria," she said. That hit me harder than the rain outside. She was right. I thought about how Luca had cancelled our traditions lately. The movie nights he missed. The ten-year anniversary he forgot because Serena wanted a spa day. Even going shopping with her. I realized I wasn't his best friend anymore. It was just a habit he was trying to break. "I'm going back to the dorm," I said, standing up suddenly. "To sleep?" Elena asked. "No. To pack. I'm done being an inconvenience," I told her. I walked back to the dorms, my heart hammering a rhythm of pure defiance. I walked right through the front door, not caring who saw me. When I got to the common area, I saw them. Luca and Serena were tangled together on the couch, surrounded by shopping bags from places I couldn't even afford to look at. Luca looked up and frowned when he saw me standing there. "Oh, hey. I forgot we were supposed to grab dinner tonight," he said. He didn't even sound sorry. He sounded like I was an interruption. "I’m taking Serena to the Vanguard Gala tonight. Her dad invited us," he added. He looked at his watch, clearly wishing I would just go away. "It’s fine, Luca. I wasn't expecting you to remember anyway," I said. My voice didn't tremble. I felt weirdly cold, like the rain had finally frozen my heart shut. "Are you okay? You look... different," he said, squinting at me. "I'm great. Have fun at the gala," I said. I didn't wait for a response. I went straight to my room and pulled my suitcases out from under the bed. I shoved everything I owned into them—my clothes, my books, the photo of my parents. I left the stuff Luca had bought me over the years on the desk. The stuffed bear. The expensive necklace. I didn't want any of it anymore. I stood in the hallway with my bags, feeling Serena's smug gaze on my back. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number Julian had written down. "I'm ready," I said as soon as he picked up. "Does the offer still stand? Because I'm standing in the hallway with two suitcases and no plan B," I told him. There was a brief silence on the other end. "Hold on. Don't move," Julian said. He hung up, and I stood there in the silence of the dorm that used to be my home. Luca came out of his room, adjusting his tuxedo jacket, and stopped dead when he saw my bags. "What are you doing? Where are you going at this hour?" he asked. "Away from here," I said. "Aria, don't be dramatic. We can talk about this after the gala," he said, reaching for my arm. Dramatic. Right. Of course he'd call it that. Just then, a loud, heavy horn honked from the street below. I looked out the window and saw Julian's car idling at the curb, dark and imposing. "That's my ride," I said, pulling my arm away from him. "Is that Vance’s car? Aria, what the hell is going on? Did you really take his offer?" Luca shouted. I didn't give him an explanation. I didn't owe him a single word. I grabbed my suitcases and walked out the door, leaving him standing there in his expensive suit looking completely lost. I made it down to the curb just as Julian stepped out of the car. He didn't say anything as he took my bags and tossed them into the trunk. He opened the passenger door for me, his eyes searching mine for a second. "Are you sure about this?" he asked. "Drive," I said. He nodded, climbed in beside me, and just like that, we drove off. I resisted every urge to look back at the boy I'd spent half of my life yearning for. .............................................................................. Julian’s pov. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were turning white, but I kept my face like stone. Inside, I was screaming. I was actually, physically vibrating with the kind of high I haven't felt since I was what, ten years old? She was in my car. Aria Vale was sitting in my passenger seat, her scent of old coffee beans and rain filling up my space. I had waited three years for this exact moment. Most people think I transferred to Westbridge for the hockey program or the business prestige. And it made sense considering those were the excuses I gave my parents to let me come here. But still, that was far fetched, really. The only reason I transferred was because I saw a post on her Instagram three years ago about her getting a scholarship here. I spent my entire freshman year at a different school just watching her from a screen, waiting for the right time to move. I knew Luca was an idiot. I knew he would eventually choose someone shiny and loud like Serena because he has zero taste and even less heart. I was actually on her school profile when it happened. I had been scrolling through her old photos, just like I did every morning, when the notification popped up at the top of my screen. It was a public post on the housing board. "Major accommodation issues. If you have a room I can rent, DM me. Urgent." My heart nearly stopped. I didn't even think. I didn't breathe. I just typed out the reply as fast as my fingers could move. I knew it was public. I knew the whole school would see it. I wanted them to see it. I wanted every single person on this campus to know that if Aria Vale needed a place to go, she was coming to me. I came to this school and I played the role of the quiet, disciplined hockey captain. I walked past her lecture halls every single day, just hoping to catch a glimpse of the back of her head. I knew her schedule better than she did. I knew what time she started her shifts at that shitty coffee shop. I even knew which library table was her favorite because I’d sit three rows back just to watch her study. Some would call it stalking, and yes, I'm not going to bother lying about it. But I was also protecting her. I’d seen the way people looked at her because she was a scholarship girl. I made sure those people knew that if they messed with her, they’d be dealing with Vance. But all that didn't matter anymore because now, all of my hard work had finally paid off. Even though I pretended not to know she was the one I was meeting at the cafeteria... she was here. She was finally here. I pulled into my garage and took a breath, trying to calm my racing heart before I looked at her. "We're here," I said. My voice sounded normal, which was a miracle considering I felt like I was losing my mind. She didn't say anything. She just got out and stood there with her two suitcases. I took them from her, wanting to burn them because they reminded me of the life she lived with that loser. We got up to the apartment and the elevator doors slid open. I gave her the tour, pointing out the kitchen and the living room and the balcony. I watched her face the whole time. It remained icily blank. Totally unfazed by the marble floors or the view that costs more than most people make in a lifetime. I’ve always loved that about her. She doesn't really care about things that aren't hers. She’s hardworking, beautiful, even though she isn’t financially buoyant. She’s herself and doesn’t try to impress anyone or keep up with the campus hot girls, as they call themselves. She has this pride that is so thick you could choke on it. It makes me want to break and bend her so badly, until she only relies on me. "This is your suite," I said, opening the door to the guest wing. She walked in and looked around, her expression still not changing. "Thank you, Julian," she said. Her voice was small, but it was steady. "I mean it. I appreciate you helping me out of that situation," she added. "It’s fine, Aria. I told you I had the space," I said. I was standing too close to her, and I could see the way her eyelashes were still damp from the rain. "I just want to be clear about something," she said, turning to face me. "There is nothing more to this situation. You're helping me, and I'm grateful," she said. She was drawing a line in the tiles, and I wanted to laugh. "I’m going to start paying you rent as soon as I can pick up extra shifts," she continued. "You don't need to worry about money here," I told her. "I do. Because I don't take charity," she snapped. She stepped back into her room and grabbed the handle of the door. "Goodnight, Julian," she said. Then she slammed the door right in my face. I stood there in the hallway for a long time, staring at the dark wood of the door. I bit back a smile until my cheeks actually hurt. I couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy. She could feel like she was doing the right thing by setting boundaries all she wanted. But she was already in my house. She was under my roof, eating my food, and sleeping in a bed I bought. She was mine now, even if she didn't know it yet. My phone started buzzing in my pocket, ruining the moment. I pulled it out and saw my mother’s name on the screen. I sighed and swiped to answer. "Julian. Why am I hearing that you have a guest?" she asked. She didn't even say hello. My mother has people tailing me, and she’s never been subtle about it. "I have a roommate, Mother. It’s a big apartment and I was getting tired of being lonely," I said. I walked over to the window and looked out at the city lights. "Don't lie to me. I know who she is. She’s that girl. Moretti's friend. Come on, son. She's pathetic," my mother said. "Her name is Aria," I corrected her, my voice turning cold. "I don't care what her name is. She is a distraction. You have a reputation to maintain, and the Morettis would love to use this against us," she hissed. "Make sure she does not distract you from your goals, Julian. Or I will make sure she is removed from the equation," she warned. The threat made my blood turn to ice. "If you touch her, I will burn everything you’ve worked for to the ground. I swear it," I said. I didn't wait for her to respond before I hung up. I threw my phone onto the sofa and rubbed my face with my hands. The Vance family was a shark tank, and I had just brought a lamb into the middle of it. But I didn't care. I walked back toward my own bedroom, pausing outside her door one last time. I could hear the faint sound of her moving around inside. She was safe here. I had spent years watching her be treated like an afterthought by a guy who didn't deserve to breathe her air. Now, I was the one who got to see her wake up in the morning. I was the one who got to see her without the mask she wore for the rest of the world. I didn't have any plans on letting her go. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever. I went into my room and lay down, staring at the ceiling and listening to the silence of the apartment. It didn't feel empty anymore. It felt full. I thought about the look on Luca’s face when I picked her up. He looked like he had just realized he lost his most valuable possession. He was right. He had lost her, and he was never getting her back. I’d make sure of that. I’d make sure she forgot his name within a month. I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning. I couldn't wait to see her sitting at my table. I was going to make her her favorite tea. I was going to make her the eggs she liked. I was going to show her what it felt like to actually be seen. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face for the first time in years. Everything was finally going according to plan. .............................................................................. Aria’s pov. I didn't sleep well. Even though the bed in Julian’s guest suite felt like sleeping on a literal cloud, I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. The room was too quiet and the air felt too.... I don't know, expensive? I kept waiting for someone to knock on the door and tell me this was all a prank. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I felt like a zombie in a scholarship girl’s body. I brushed my hair and tried to look like I hadn't spent the night questioning every single life choice I’d made in the last decade. I walked into the kitchen and there he was. Julian was already dressed in a crisp black hoodie and joggers, looking like a professional athlete even before his morning coffee. He pushed a mug of Earl Grey toward me without saying a word. Two drops of honey. Exactly what I needed at that moment. I took a sip and felt the warmth hit my stomach, but it didn't stop the fluttering of nerves. "I have a ten a.m. lecture," I said, breaking the silence. "I know. I'm driving you," he said. He didn't even look up from his tablet. "Julian, you don't have to do this. I can take the bus. I don't want to make things weird," I told him. He finally looked at me, and his gray-blue eyes felt like they were pinning me to the chair. "The bus takes forty minutes. My car takes ten. You need the extra thirty minutes to study," he said pointedly. He wasn't suggesting it. He was stating it like it was a law of physics. Translation, I didn't have a say really. "Are you always this bossy?" I muttered into my tea. "Only when I'm right," he answered. I wanted to argue, but I was too tired to fight with a guy who was giving me a free place to stay. I grabbed my bag and followed him down to the garage. The car ride was silent, but it wasn't a peaceful silence. It was tense. I kept looking at his hands on the steering wheel, wondering why the hockey captain was being so careful with me. When we pulled onto the Westbridge campus, I felt the immediate urge to duck. Julian’s car was a dark, sleek shark in a sea of basic student vehicles. He didn't pull into the parking lot. He drove right up to the front of the main quad. The quad was packed with students grabbing breakfast between classes. "You're making a scene," I whispered, clutching my bag. "Let them look," Julian said. He actually got out of the car and walked around to open my door. I felt like I was walking onto a movie set where I didn't know the lines. "I'll be here at four. Don't be late," he said, his voice carrying just enough for the nearest group of girls to hear. I nodded, confused, and practically ran toward the library entrance. I could hear the whispers starting behind me like a wave. "Is that Aria Vale?" "Since when does Vance let people in his car?" I kept my head down, staring at the pavement until I saw a pair of familiar sneakers. I looked up and my heart stopped. It was Luca. He was standing near the fountain, looking like he hadn't slept either. His tuxedo from last night was gone, replaced by a rumpled hoodie, and his hair was a mess. "Aria," he said, stepping into my path. I tried to walk around him, but he moved to block me. "We need to talk," he said. "I have class, Luca. And I think we said everything last night," I told him. I felt incredibly uncomfortable. People were stopping to watch us. "What were you doing in Julian Vance's car?" he asked. His voice was loud, full of that jealous edge that didn't make sense since he had Serena. "He's my roommate. I told you I was moving," I said. “And I owe you no explanation for what I choose to do with my life.” "Roommate? Aria, are you insane? Do you even know who that guy is?" he shouted. He reached out to grab my wrist, but I stepped back before he could touch me. "I know he's the guy who didn't spend the morning making me listen to him have sex with my roommate," I snapped. A few people nearby gasped, and I saw Luca’s face go pale. "Ri, it’s not like that. I was just... I was distracted," he stammered. "First off, don't call me that. It's Aria to you. And second, you’ve been distracted for ten years, Luca. I'm done waiting for you to look at me," I said. The discomfort was like one helluva huge physical weight now, making me want to crawl into a hole. But I wasn't going to back down from this easily. He needed to know what's on my mind. He needed to know that he up real bad. "Does he know?" Luca asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Does he know what?" "Does he know you've been in love with me since we were kids? Or are you just using him to make me jealous?" he sneered. I felt a slap of pure humiliation hit me. Of course he knew. He had always known how I felt, and he’d just let me sit there in the shadows like I was a bloody waiter while he dated everyone else. "He knows I'm a roommate who pays her rent," I lied, my voice cold. "And even if I was using him, at least he's worth the effort. Unlike you," I added. Luca looked like I’d actually punched him in the gut. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then he looked over my shoulder and froze. I turned around and saw Julian’s car hadn't moved. Julian was leaning against the driver's side door, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't doing anything. He was just watching. But the way he was looking at Luca was so intense, so dark, that it felt like the temperature in the quad dropped ten degrees. "Leave her the hell alone, Luca," Julian said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise of the quad perfectly. I didn’t know what this was all about between them, but I wouldn’t be the reason they caused a scene here. I looked back at Luca one last time. He looked small. He looked like a boy trying to play a man’s game. "Stay away from me, Luca. I'm being serious as this time," I said. I walked away, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. "!" I heard Luca cuss behind me. For a minute, it actually sounded like he felt mad at himself for letting me go. But then again, you can't wipe a leopard's skin spotless. He was never going to change and that was the truth. .............................................................................. ARIA’S POV Avoidance should be an Olympic sport. If it were, I’d have gold by noon. I left my last lecture five minutes early, slipped out through the side stairwell instead of the main hall, and took the long route behind the science building just to avoid the quad. Every corner I turned felt like a potential ambush. Whispers followed me anyway. They didn’t need to see me to talk about me. I kept walking. Head down. AirPods in. Music off. The parking lot came into view, and I exhaled slowly. If I could just make it to the curb where Julian said he’d pick me up, I could survive the day. Then I heard my name. “Aria!” Of course. I didn’t turn around. “Aria, please.” The word please made me pause despite myself. Stupid heart. Stupid history. I turned slowly. Luca looked wrecked. Not the artfully messy, campus golden boy version of wrecked. Actually wrecked. Dark circles under his eyes. Jaw tight. Shoulders slumped like something inside him had finally cracked. He walked toward me carefully, like I was a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. “Can we just talk? Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.” “You’ve had ten years,” I replied evenly. He flinched. “I know. I know I screwed up. I was selfish. I thought—you were always there, Aria. You were solid. I didn’t think I had to fight for you.” “That’s the problem,” I said quietly. “You never did.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping in front of me. “Last night was a mistake.” I stared at him. “You didn’t seem confused,” I said. His jaw flexed. “Serena doesn’t mean anything.” The irony almost made me laugh. “But I do?” I asked. “Yes!” he burst out. “You always have.” I felt something inside me tremble and then harden. “Then why did I have to listen to you with her?” I asked. “Why did I have to sit there and pretend I wasn’t dying inside?” He swallowed hard. “I was distracted,” he repeated, desperate now. “The pressure, the team, my dad breathing down my neck about law school. I was just… not thinking straight.” “Ten years, Luca,” I said softly. “You’ve been ‘not thinking straight’ for ten years.” His expression shifted then. Less pleading. More calculating. “And now what?” he said. “You’re thinking straight? By moving in with Julian Vance?” There it was. He stepped closer. “Do you even know who that guy is? You think he’s helping you out of the goodness of his heart? Aria, Julian doesn’t do charity. He doesn’t breathe without a reason.” My stomach twisted. “He’s manipulative,” Luca continued. “Everything he does is strategic. You’re a move to him. A statement. He probably gets off on messing with me.” “That’s rich,” I muttered. “I’m serious,” he pressed. “He doesn’t care about you. He cares about control. You think it’s a coincidence he made a whole scene this morning? He wanted people to see.” My chest tightened. Because part of me knew that was true. Julian had wanted them to see. “But at least he didn’t humiliate me,” I shot back. Luca’s eyes darkened. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly. “He’s not safe.” “And you are?” I asked. Silence. Then, a low, familiar engine cut through the tension. Every nerve in my body snapped to attention. Julian’s car turned into the parking lot. Of course he was right on time. Like always. Students immediately slowed their steps. Heads turned. Phones subtly lifted. A small crowd was already forming near the edge of the lot. And Serena was there. Standing near the entrance with two of her sorority friends, arms crossed, expression thunderous. This was becoming a show. Luca noticed the car too. His posture stiffened. “See?” he muttered. “Right on cue.” The car rolled closer. Closer. I could feel it, the narrative forming in real time. Scholarship girl caught between two campus elites. Poor Aria. Indecisive Aria. Desperate Aria. No. Not today. I was done being the girl people felt sorry for. I stepped forward. “Aria, don’t,” Luca warned, reaching for my arm. But this time, I didn’t step back. I walked straight toward the car. Julian slowed, confusion flickering across his face for half a second before the mask slipped back into place. He stopped directly in front of me. The window rolled down. “You’re early,” he said calmly. Behind me, I heard Luca move. “Aria, this is stupid…” His fingers brushed my wrist. That was it. Something inside me snapped. I opened the passenger door. And instead of sliding in, I leaned across the console, grabbed Julian by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him. Gasps exploded around us. For half a second, Julian froze. Just long enough for me to register the shock in his body. Then, he moved. His hand came up, sliding into my hair, gripping, not painfully, but firmly. Possessively. He kissed me back. Not soft. Not hesitant. Deep. Demanding. Like he’d been waiting. The world tilted. My lungs forgot how to function. This was supposed to be strategic. A statement. A weapon. But Julian didn’t kiss like a man playing a game. He kissed like a man claiming something he already believed was his. His other hand slid to my waist, pulling me fully into the car, chest to chest across the center console. My knees hit the seat. My fingers tightened in his hoodie. Heat flooded through me so fast it made my head spin. The parking lot disappeared. The crowd disappeared. There was only the pressure of his mouth, the controlled hunger in the way he angled his head, the quiet, dangerous intensity vibrating beneath his restraint. I made a small, involuntary sound against his lips. That seemed to snap him back. He pulled away slowly. Too slowly. His gray-blue eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them. Not confused. Not amused. Possessive. His thumb brushed once against my jaw before he released me. The silence in the parking lot was deafening. Julian looked past me. Straight at Luca. His expression shifted into something lethal. He stepped out of the car, closing the distance with unhurried confidence. Luca stood his ground, but I saw it, the hesitation. Julian stopped just close enough to make the message clear. “The lady said to leave her alone,” he said evenly. Each word landed like a controlled detonation. “Leave. Her. Alone.” A beat. “Don’t make me force you to.” No shouting. No theatrics. Just certainty. Luca’s fists clenched. But he didn’t move. Julian held his gaze a second longer, then turned away like Luca wasn’t worth another second of oxygen. He walked back to the driver’s seat. Got in. And without another word, he drove off. Fast. The campus blurred past the windows. My heart was still racing. My lips were still tingling. My brain was still trying to process what had just happened. I had kissed him to get back at Luca. That was the plan. But the way Julian had kissed me back? That hadn’t been part of it. Silence filled the car. Thick. Charged. After a full minute, he spoke. “Was that tactical,” he asked calmly, eyes on the road, “or should I start worrying about my self-control?” I swallowed. “I needed him to stop,” I said. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “He’ll stop,” Julian replied quietly. There was something in his tone that made my stomach flip again. Not relief. Not satisfaction. Promise. I turned to look at him. “Julian…” He glanced at me briefly. And for the first time since I’d met him, the mask was gone. What was underneath wasn’t indifference. It wasn't a strategy. It was something far more dangerous. “I don’t do things halfway, Aria,” he said softly. My pulse stuttered. And for the first time since I’d moved into his guest suite, I realized I might have just started something I wasn’t prepared to finish.