Page 151 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

"That's all I need to know," I say when he doesn't reply, forcing a smile that feels like broken glass. "Go back to playing your part with the grand puppeteer back there. I'm sure he'd want to see you running back to the lead ring leader of this wicked circus."

"Gabriel," he calls out, trying to stop me, but I pause, letting ice fill my voice.

"Vampires always hold grudges," I remind him quietly. "It's going to be interesting to see how you pay your dues."

I look back then, not bothering to hide the death glare burning in my eyes.

Let him see the betrayal coursing fresh through my veins.

Allow him to witness what lies beneath this mask of glamour and magic – the real me, the one he swore he'd protect and whisk away to his land of Fae despite whatever consequences awaited.

What a joke.

To believe this Fae prince would protect me.

That he'd bring me to his family and boldly declare his love was enough to let me rule by his side.

To be his Queen.

Now the Headmaster's words make perfect sense – that I would never be his Queen. How could I stand beside a man on a throne of perfection when his very world despises my tainted existence?

Comical.

With a glare cold enough to freeze hell itself, I turn away, knowing he won't dare follow.

Not here, not now, when his precious points hang in the balance.

But where am I going?

My body moves on autopilot until I find myself in the changeroom. Empty at this hour – a small mercy in a day devoid of them. The moment the door closes behind me, something inside snaps.

I tear at my clothes with desperate fury, clawing at the fabric like it's poisoning my skin.

The sound of expensive material ripping fills the air, providing a savage kind of satisfaction. My hands burn from the rough treatment, but I don't care – the physical pain is almost welcome, giving me something to focus on besides the hollowness in my chest.

Rage consumes me, flames erupting from my fingertips as growls and hisses escape my throat. The shredded uniformburns to ash, raining down around me like black snow, but it's not enough.

Nothing is enough.

The burning in my chest has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the way history keeps repeating itself. Different players, same game – trust offered and betrayed, love dangled like bait only to be yanked away when it matters most.

My reflection in the locker room mirror shows Gabriel's form wavering, the glamour struggling to hold as emotions surge beyond my control.

For a moment, I see myself –really see myself– and the sight nearly breaks me.

The same lost look I wore after Darius.

The same trembling hands that couldn't fight back when they held me under.

The same desperate need to believe that this time would be different, that these men would be different.

But they're not.

They're just better actors, playing their parts in this wicked game with more finesse than Darius ever managed. At least he was honest in his cruelty, never pretending to care before he broke me.

These princes though – they made me believe.

Made me think bonds meant something more than convenient chains to bind me. Made me hope that maybe…just by a miracle chance of good karma and hopefulness…I'd found somewhere I could belong.

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