Page 146 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

Gasps ripples through the cafeteria at my audacity.

Thaddeus curses, face reddening. "How dare you spout that bullshit! I'm not gay like you!"

"You have to be," I counter, "considering you can't get off without tormenting me. Got a crush?" I smirk. "I can fix that. Unlike you, I'm not afraid to admit I bend both ways."

Everyone gawks while Thaddeus's face contorts with disgust. I stand, ready to leave, when something cold drenches me from above. I freeze mid-step, watching yellow liquid drip from my uniform.

The cafeteria falls silent, hundreds of eyes fixed on the scene. Slowly, I look up, meeting those familiar crimson eyes – only now they're cold and merciless.

"Since you're going to piss," Damien announces clearly, smugness radiating from every pore, "figured being drenched would remind you where you belong when it comes to meals."

His smile is sharp enough to cut.

"Hybrids don't belong in the cafeteria, period. Take this as a warning, or next time I'll make sure the piss is boiling hot so you can feel what it's like to be the complete waste you are."

I wait for someone – anyone – to intervene.

Instead, laughter erupts like a wave, filling the cafeteria with mockery. Camera shutters click rapidly, preserving this moment of humiliation for posterity.

Our eyes meet, and in that moment, all pretense drops. I stare at him with pure murderous intent, imagining exactly how his jugular would feel beneath my fangs. The hunger pulses stronger, urging me to act on these violent impulses.

"Get lost, little dog," he says loudly before dropping his voice so only I can hear. "Go back to being that little moany bitch behind closed doors. That's the only thing you're good at."

I force myself to move, even as I feel that last thread of control starting to snap.

The bond marks burn against my skin, responding to the surge of rage and humiliation coursing through me. Every vampire instinct screams for blood, while my witch side conjures a hundred creative ways to make him suffer.

The yellow liquid –please let it be fake– continues to drip from my uniform, each drop hitting the floor with a sound that seems amplified by my heightened senses. The smell is overwhelming, making my already churning stomach worse.

But it's not the physical discomfort that threatens to break me.

It's the laughter.

It fills the cafeteria like a living thing, pressing in from all sides. Hundreds of faces blur together, all wearing the same expression of cruel amusement. Some have their phones out, recording my humiliation for future entertainment.

Through it all, I can sense Nikolai and Cassius. Their bond marks pulse with barely contained fury, matching the rage building in my own chest. But they can't move, can't help, can't even acknowledge what's happening.

All of this is bullshit.

Damien stands there, basking in his moment of triumph, surrounded by his newfound allies. The vampire prince who couldn't handle rejection, now determined to make my life hell.

The hunger pangs intensify, my vision sharpening with predatory focus. I could end this right now. Show him exactly what happens when you push a hybrid too far. My fangs ache to extend, magic crackling beneath my skin.

One move. That's all it would take.

But that's exactly what he wants – for me to snap, to prove hybrids don't belong here.

To give him an excuse to escalate this war he's started.

The cafeteria continues to record every moment of my humiliation, their laughter a soundtrack to my restraint. Some have started chanting "hybrid trash" under their breath, the sound growing louder with each iteration.

Damien's smirk widens, seeing my internal struggle. He thinks he's won this round, thinks he's broken me.

If he only knew what he's actually poking.

Yellow liquid drips into my eyes, making them burn. The smell is overwhelming, the hunger maddening and every instinct I possess demands violence.

I will not let this entitled, rejected vampire prince break me.

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