Claimed by my Stepbrothers

Chapter 4: The Academy of Kings

I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the phantom pressure of Liam’s thumb against my pulse or the heat of Jax’s breath against my neck. By the time the sun began to bleed through the heavy velvet curtains of my room, I felt like I had been in a war.

A knock at the door—sharp, impatient—made me bolt upright.

"Dress is on the chair. You have ten minutes, Khylie. We don't wait."

Liam’s voice. Even through a thick oak door, it sounded like a command from a god.

I looked at the chair. There, laid out like a costume for a play I never auditioned for, was the Blackwood Academy uniform. A pleated charcoal skirt that was dangerously short, a crisp white blouse, and a silk tie in the family’s signature deep violet.

My hands shook as I pulled the clothes on. I felt like I was putting on a brand. When I reached for my old, scuffed sneakers, I found them gone. In their place were a pair of designer loafers that cost more than my mother’s car.

They were erasing me. Bit by bit, they were peeling away Khylie the waitress, Khylie the orphan, and replacing her with… whatever they wanted me to be.

I walked downstairs, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A black SUV was idling in the driveway, its windows tinted so dark they looked like voids.

Jax was leaning against the hood, spinning a set of keys around his finger. He looked at me, his eyes dark and hungry. "Took you long enough. I was about to come up there and dress you myself."

"I can dress myself just fine," I snapped, though my voice lacked the fire I wanted.

"Get in," Liam’s voice came from the back seat.

The drive was silent, the kind of silence that makes your ears ring. I sat between Liam and Roman, feeling like a tiny bird trapped between two mountain peaks. Roman was reading again, but I could feel his attention on me, heavy and analytical.

When the car pulled up to the gates of Blackwood Academy, my breath caught. It wasn't a school; it was a gothic cathedral of wealth.

"Listen to me carefully, Khylie," Liam said, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous register that made my skin prickle. "Everyone in this school knows who we are. And by the end of first period, they’ll know who you are. You don't talk to anyone we don't approve of. You don't leave the grounds. And if a man so much as breathes in your direction, you tell us."

"I'm not your property, Liam," I whispered, though the gold anklet hidden under my sock told a different story.

Liam reached out, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck, tilting my head back until I was forced to look into the icy depths of his eyes. "You are a Blackwood now. That makes you the most precious—and the most hated—thing in this city. You stay close, or you'll find out just how cruel the world can be without us."

He let me go, and the car door opened.

Walking through those hallways felt like walking through a gauntlet. The whispers started almost immediately.

"Is that her?"

"The illegitimate one?"

"Look at her... she doesn't belong here."

I kept my head down, my eyes fixed on the floor, until I reached my locker. But as I turned the dial, a hand slammed against the metal next to my head.

I gasped, spinning around. It wasn't one of the brothers. It was a boy with blonde hair and a cruel, beautiful face—someone I didn't recognize.

"So, you're the new toy the Blackwoods brought home?" he sneered, leaning into my space. "I wonder what you taste like to make them so protective."

He reached out to touch my face, but before his fingers could graze my skin, a hand gripped his wrist.

The sound of bone snapping echoed in the hallway.

The boy screamed, dropping to his knees. I looked up to see Jax standing there, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He didn't look like a student; he looked like an executioner.

"I believe my brother told everyone to stay away," Jax said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He kicked the boy’s hand away and stepped over him as if he were trash.

The entire hallway went silent. No one breathed. No one moved.

Jax turned to me, his expression softening just a fraction, though the fire was still in his eyes. He reached out and straightened my tie, his knuckles brushing the skin of my throat.

"Go to class, Khylie," he murmured. "I'll take care of the trash."

I backed away, my heart in my throat. I looked around and realized that everyone in the hallway was looking at me—not with pity, but with fear.

I wasn't just a student here. I was the consort of the king. And in this school, being loved by a Blackwood was a death sentence of a different kind.

I ran. I didn't stop until I reached the library, ducking into the furthest corner behind the stacks of old, leather-bound books. I sank to the floor, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You can't hide in the dark forever, Khylie."

I looked up. Roman was sitting at a small table, a single lamp illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He didn't look angry like Jax. He looked… expectant.

"They're going to kill me," I whispered. "One of you is going to break me, or the people who hate you are going to destroy me."

Roman closed his book and stood up, walking toward me with a slow, rhythmic grace. He knelt down in front of me, his knees brushing mine. He reached out, his hand hovering over my cheek before finally settling there. His skin was cool, almost soothing.

"We won't let them destroy you," Roman said softly. "But breaking you? That’s different."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. "The thing about breaking, Khylie, is that you can be put back together. Stronger. More beautiful. Ours."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. But as his thumb traced the line of my lower lip, I felt that same traitorous heat bloom in my chest.

I was drowning in them. And the worst part was, I was starting to forget how to swim.