There’s only one way.
Revenge.
When I step out of class, Colt on my heels, all heads turn our way. A pause ensues, where the hall goes quiet, the air crackling with anticipation. And then the first deepwoofcomes right behind me. Colt. That fucking bastard. The sound echoes down the hall, but not for long. After a single second, twenty more voices join in. Their football team, guys I don’t know, girls. I swallow the sick feeling in my stomach, duck my head, and plow forward. I can’t look at them. I won’t look because today, I’m not sure I can hide behind the Dolce mask. Today, my eyes would give me away.
I make it to my next class, my heart thundering in my ears. I slide into my seat, ready to let my guard down, to breathe, to have a moment of relief.
But then Devlin slides into his seat beside me.
Fuck. My. Life.
“I’m going home,” I mutter, grabbing my books and standing.
Devlin grabs my arm and pulls me back down beside him. “No, you’re not,” he says in an even voice, his eyes straight ahead.
“What do you care?” I ask. “You already won. You wanted to break me, and you did. Congratu-fucking-lations. You win, I lose, and we all live happily ever after. Now leave me alone.”
“That might be all well and good for you,” he says. “But you had to go and call the fucking cops, spreading your lies around.”
“I didn’t lie,” I say through clenched teeth. “I had to fucking tell my father that I wanted to have sex with you. I’m sure that makes you real fucking happy.”
Devlin’s mouth twitches, and I can tell the bastard is trying not to laugh. “Why would you tell your dad that?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. And also like he’s still amused. The bastard.
“Becauseyoutold him we fucked,” I point out. “And the cops. And your family.”
“In hindsight, not my best decision,” he admits with a grimace.
“Why?” I demand. “I didn’t lie to the cops about it, despite Daddy’s encouragement to tell them otherwise.”
Devlin’s eyes narrow. “Your dad wanted you to tell the cops I raped you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, wishing I hadn’t said anything. I cross my arms over my chest and slide down in my seat. “I didn’t lie to the cops.”
“Yeah, well, you called them,” he says. “And now our grandfather is involved. Which means no one wins.”
“I don’t care about your family drama,” I snap. “You kidnapped my brother.”
“I didn’t fucking kidnap your brother,” Devlin says. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I ask incredulously. I notice other kids quieting to listen, but I don’t even care anymore. “You fucked up Royal’s car, dragged me around a party on a leash letting guys grope me, and fucked me just so you could high-five your buddies. What’s wrong withyou?”
“Stop. Talking.” Devlin’s voice is low and commanding, his glare trained on mine with barely restrained fury.
But I’m tired of playing by his rules. If he gets to publicly shame me, I get to tell my side of the story. I’m not some cowering dogs who’s going to take it lying down. I’m done being quiet about it. He doesn’t get to write this narrative, make a joke around the school of how obedient his Darling Dog is. There’s another side to this story, and he clearly doesn’t want it told.
“Why?” I challenge, lifting my chin to stare back at him. “What are you afraid I’ll say, Devlin? Are you afraid I’ll reveal the Darlings for the cowards you are?”
“I said, shut up,” Devlin says, his blue eyes blazing, his hands clamped around the edge of his desk.
“And what if I won’t?” I ask. “What are you going to do? Are the three of you going to hold me at knife point again?”
Devlin jumps up, grabs my wrist, and drags me toward the door. I know I should shut up, but I can’t stop. Maybe I want the punishment. The pain. The humiliation. Some fucked up part of me thrives on it.
“Mr. Darling,” the teacher warns, but Devlin shoves the door open with his palm. He turns back as he drags me out into the hall.
“Shut up and teach the class,” Devlin growls, and then he lets the door fall closed behind us. His grip around my wrist is punishing, but I don’t care. The pain only fuels me. I want to hurt again. I want him to rage at me like a storm. I want the obliteration left in the wake of Hurricane Devlin.
“What the fuck are you going on about?” Devlin asks, sounding more annoyed than angry.