Page 2 of Corrupt Me

I quickly realized what he was doing and because I was distrustful of people, I hacked into his phone. Afterward, I tried to ignore Hunter and stay out of his way, but then he found out who I really was when Kaden demanded I tell him where Blake was. I refused, and that put a strain on my relationship with Kaden.

I’ll never forget that look on Hunter’s face—a mix of surprise and resignation tightened his features, making him look almost statuesque. I stared back at him as he absorbed the information: I was the hacker. It should have been a moment for me to rejoice over my win. Strangely, it wasn’t. Something flickered in his eyes, which was disconcerting.

While I hadn’t openly disclosed who I was, the rest of the group had put two and two together. Hunter was the only clueless one. Serves him right for thinking I am a damsel in distress, a princess in the ivory tower—a kitten. He loves to taunt me with that nickname, making me want to claw at his chest until I leave marks.

After years of desperately craving love from my parents and never getting it, I thought nothing could ever hurt me. But his animosity stung as if I’d betrayed him by keeping my ability a secret.

It all came to an end when danger exploded in our faces. Felix Astor, Kaden’s father, and Caleb Sinclair, his best friend, escaped. Felix was Grandmother’s right hand, but he betrayed her by keeping her daughter hostage for fourteen years. Caleb, the mad scientist, is Blake’s father.

Since then, Hunter has made it his mission to be my shadow. He’s always there, in my face, those deep silver eyes, gunmetal, because that is exactly how they feel on me—like a gun pointed straight at my sanity.

When I first saw him, something strange happened. In hindsight, I realize I was attracted to him. It would be impossible not to. Half the female students want him, while the others dream about him. But the brooding, mysterious vibe he emanates drew me in. For the first time, something out of my virtual world made me want to crack him open, to discover the reason behind my fascination with him. Call me insane, but something in him called to something in me.

He antagonizes me at every turn, and I would like to say his taunting has stopped working after so long, but some still rattle me, and I react. He loves that.

Shoving thoughts of Hunter away, I resume monitoring my screens.

Where are you hiding, Felix? And who hacked me?

It has to be someone close to me. Someone who, in a moment of distraction, infiltrated my system. It was done so stealthily that I would have been envious if I wasn’t the one getting burned.

My neck stiffens, and I stand up, stretching as I walk toward the window. Spring is in full bloom, but in my chest, permanent winter resides. Everything that blossoms there quickly freezes to death. Love has never been reciprocated.

Before my eyes, another symbol of the Family’s power greets me—Eagleton College. The imposing and vast gray building resembles a castle. The crest of the Family, an eagle with spread wings holding a globe between its claws, is engraved on the entry doors of the main building. For me, it’s a reminder of being hunted more than a symbol of freedom.

The campus spans thousands of acres—a small city teeming with students, a shopping center, entertainment facilities, a small theater, coffee shops, diners, and bars, and even a park. My friends and I live a bit separated from the rest of the students, a constant reminder to everyone that we’re the heirs. Our college house is the most striking of them all, similar to the architecture of the college building.

A door shuts, the echo seeping through the walls, pulling me out of my thoughts. He’s pissed. When is Hunter not pissed? But he sure enjoys letting me know. This is one of those times when I react.

Yanking at my door handle, I poke my head out and see him walking down the stairs.

“I need silence to work, so go be a broody asshole somewhere else,” I shout and shut the door. My stupid heart pounds a crazy beat.

What always happens, happens: he shoves right through my door without a knock or an invitation.

He arches an arrogant brow. “Want my attention, kitten?”

“Yours would be the last I want.” I cross my arms over my chest and stare him down, hoping he buys the lie. I can’t help myself—there are these disturbing moments when I crave his attention.

Those steel eyes pierce my chest. He’s too good-looking and he knows it. In just his sweatpants, I knew he was about to go to the gym before I interrupted him. I try not to look at his bare chest that ripples with muscles.His eight-pack has my fingers itching to trace the planes and ridges of his stone-carved body. That sharp V-line dipping lower into tempting territory makes me swallow hard.

He clears his throat, and my cheeks heat. I instantly redirect my attention to his face—chiseled features, hollowed cheeks, a straight nose, and carnal lips. Not even AI could come up with this picture of physical perfection. A smirk plasters on his gorgeous face. While I want to slap it off, I want to do something else, too—something bad, like kiss him. Thankfully, I know better, and I push that thought back into the vault where all my dreams go to die.

We’re locked in a battle of wills. Every second, the intensity stretches, becoming unbearable, yet I hold his deep gaze, making me feel like he’s peeling back layers, leaving me exposed—bare to my soul.

He doesn’t like what he sees. I know because he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides, his jaw setting in a firm line. “Get your ass downstairs, and let’s work on your defense.”

“Can’t. I have better things to do.”

He gets right in my face, his scent invading my nostrils, disregarding personal space, as always. He smells so good—a hint of sandalwood and tobacco, a rich and smoky blend that’s undeniably masculine.

“You can’t land a punch to save your life. Your hacking won’t help you if you’re attacked.”

That was a low blow. But he loves to deliver those when he wants to make a point.

He took it upon himself to teach me how to fight. Why? I have no clue—except that he likes to torment me, and apparently, I am a sucker for it because I agreed—a momentary lapse of judgment. Any one of my friends could have taught me self-defense. It was my fault I accepted his offer instead. I must be a masochist. Our strained relationship has gotten worse. I am teetering on a dangerous line, with an abyss beneath me, battling the urge to just let myself fall and see what awaits me—surely total annihilation.

Without another word, he marches out of my room, and I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. But not for long. Never too long.

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