Page 154 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

He stands before me like some dark guardian angel, ready to catch me as I crumble. The timing feels too perfect, too orchestrated to be coincidence.

He bites his lip, meeting my gaze, but there's no pity in his eyes. No sympathy clouds those crimson depths that twinkle with the same intensity I remember from our last encounter.

That night remains seared in my memory – Atticus covered in the blood of my enemies, battered and bruised from fighting an entire coven single-handedly. He'd taken them all down, every last one who'd participated in my torture, and he'd done it for me.

The conviction that had burned in his eyes that night, the way he'd memorized my broken expression to fuel his rampage – it's all there again. That same deadly promise, that same capacity for beautiful violence.

Only now his gaze carries new targets.

I remember how the newspapers had covered the massacre. How they'd called it one of the most vicious attacks in vampire history. No one could believe sweet, harmless Atticus had been capable of such carnage.

But I'd known.

I'd seen the change in him that night he found me – how something in him had snapped, transforming him from the boy everyone mocked into someone even the elders feared.

The tears in his eyes now don't match the predatory stillness of his body, the lethal grace he'd gained somewhere between being that chubby boy and becoming this avenging angel.

His entire being radiates carefully contained power, like a blade waiting to be unsheathed.

Those eyes bore into mine, carrying the weight of years and memories and blood spilled in my name. They promise the samededication, the same ruthless protection that had once painted the streets red with those who'd hurt me.

And now he's found new prey.

I can see it in the set of his jaw, the slight curl of his fingers – he's already planning. Already calculating the best way to make them suffer for today's humiliation.

For every slight and cruelty, they've shown since I entered this academy.

The realization should probably frighten me. Should make me want to stop him, to prevent more bloodshed in my name.

But standing here, reeking of other people's waste, my skin still burning from phantom flames, I can't find it in me to care about mercy.

Can't summon the strength to be the better person, to turn the other cheek one more time.

Maybe that's why he's here.

Because he knows me better than anyone – knows exactly when I'll reach my breaking point. When the good girl facade cracks and the darkness underneath will demand satisfaction.

The bond marks pulse faintly as if sensing my thoughts turning toward violence. Reminding me of promises made and broken, of princes who watch my humiliation from afar.

But Atticus's presence drowns out their call.

His arms around me feel more real, more honest than any magical bond. He's proven his loyalty with blood and bone, with years served in darkness for the sake of my justice.

The scent of spider lilies grows stronger, wrapping around us like a shroud. Death and rebirth, endings and beginnings – all carried in that sweet, deadly perfume.

What new endings will he bring this time?

What blood will paint these halls in my name?

The questions hover between us, unspoken but heavy with promise. His tears finally spill over, but his expression remainsunchanged – that perfect balance of tender concern and lethal intent that only Atticus has ever mastered.

We stand frozen in this moment, surrounded by the ashes of my uniform and the lingering stench of humiliation, while something dark and hungry unfurls in my chest.

Something that remembers the taste of revenge.

26

ALWAYS BE ON MY QUEEN OF SPADES SIDE

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