I don’t touch my face. I don’t flinch. I just stand there, still, taking her in. Her breath comes in short, sharp pants as her composure fractures.
“Careful,” I say softly, my voice level despite the heat radiating from my skin. “Violence without strategy is just emotion, and whores aren’t allowed to show that.”
Quinn grits her teeth as she straightens, forcing her shoulders back into that queen-in-training posture. She smooths invisible creases from her coat like she didn’t just unravel in public. Her eyes dart around the courtyard, taking in every face.
Me?
I’ve already catalogued who watched, who’s laughing behind their hands, and who looks horrified.
“The difference between us,fairy,” she sneers, my nickname dripping with venom, “you were raised to be used. I was raised to rule.”
I bark a laugh; the sound carries as my shoulders shake. Quinn looks dumbfounded. I’m sure she wanted more. Maybe for me to lose control so she could run to Roman and have him protect her from me, but I won’t bite. I refuse to sink to her level.
What’s sad is that she actually believes women rule. Even here, where we outnumber them two to one, we still get on our knees and beg to be chosen. We don’t rule. We follow. And the delusions her family have fed her are almost as dangerous as they are ill-informed.
“You can laugh all you want, but you’re a phase,” she says, stepping closer, shifting her coffee to her right hand. “I’m his future.”
“If you have to keep saying it,” I whisper, “it probably isn’t true.”
Her eyes flash as her princess mask snaps back into place. She glances over her shoulder at her little group, then back at me.
“Enjoy your delusions. It’s all you’ve got.”
She says it loud enough for anyone watching to hear, then walks away, leaving me standing there as her words replay in my mind as I walk to class.
You are a phase. I am his future.
Is she right? That no matter what I am to Roman now, I’ll always be temporary? A rebellion. A statement. A calculated disruption before he settles into the life that was always mapped out for him?
Do I care?
Yes.
That’s the part that unsettles me most.
I care.
I wouldn’t have, once. There was a time when attachment felt like a liability, when wanting anything from anyone was a weakness waiting to be exploited. But somewhere between the blood and the kisses, and the quiet way he presses his forehead to mine, Roman slipped past the armour. He didn’t force it open. He didn’t demand entry. He just waited and I let him in.
I haven’t been sure of many things in my life, but I am sure of him. Of the future he whispers in my ear when he thinks I’m sleeping. Of the promises he makes when I’m awake. Quinn wants to shake my foundation because she’s threatened. And if she’s telling the truth…
Well, that might be the hardest lesson I’ve learned so far.
The rest of the day goes as normal. I sit with the guys at lunch like nothing has shifted beneath our feet, like we haven’t all been carved open and categorised twenty-four hours ago. Roman fusses over me in a way that would be embarrassing if it wasn’t so… him. I catch Quinn glaring at us from across the canteen. I can’t help the smug satisfaction as he pulls out my chair and barely gives her a glance. His fingers brush my forearm more times than necessary, checking the bandage without making a show of it, while Felix grumbles the entire time, stealing glances our way with a thunderous look in his eyes.
“For fuck’s sake, she’s not porcelain,” he mutters when Roman adjusts my sleeve for the third time.
“She’s precious,” Roman replies simply, not even looking up as he unwraps my sandwich like I’m incapable of doing it myself.
“If you get any more domesticated, I’m charging rent.” Riggs gags dramatically across the table as Atlas smirks and Victor chuckles.
I roll my eyes but don’t move my arm away from Roman’s hand. It’s strange sitting there now, knowing they all have girls of their own, like somehow we’ve all been divided, claimed, assigned. I try to sound casual when I ask where their promised are, but it probably comes out more strained than I intend.
“Getting used to the swing of things,” Riggs shrugs. “We all decided to wait until tonight.”
“Trial by fire,” Victor snorts.
“Who are you taking?” I ask Felix.