OBSESSED WITH HIS WITCH-EYE DONNA

Ava's POV MONSTERS DON'T BELONG HERE. The words were written across the bathroom mirror in red lipstick. I stared at them, my reflection staring back with one wet violet eye and one startling gold eye. The same eyes that had made me a target for as long as I could remember. "Creative," I muttered. "They should consider a career in writing." My voice sounded steady, which was good because I wasn't giving anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Someone had taken pictures of me in class that morning, zooming in on my eyes. By lunchtime, the photos were circulating with captions calling me a witch, a freak, and the devil's daughter. My father could buy buildings, hotels, and entire blocks of property, but even his money couldn't buy me a normal pair of eyes. I wiped the lipstick off the mirror, reapplied my gloss, and walked out with my head held high. Tonight was the academy's annual charity gala, which meant expensive dresses, fake smiles, and people pretending their families weren't rotten beneath all that money. I intended to survive the evening and go home. Then I saw Rafael Moretti. He stood in the middle of the ballroom wearing a black suit, one hand tucked into his pocket while girls crowded around him, laughing at everything he said. Boys watched him carefully, measuring their words whenever he turned in their direction. Rafael was twenty, three years older than me, and the heir to the Moretti empire. Everyone knew his family owned legitimate businesses, but anyone with sense knew that wasn't the whole story. Rumours followed the Morettis everywhere. "Careful, Ava." Chloe Whitermore appeared beside me, smiling like she hadn't spent the entire semester making my life miserable. "You keep staring at Rafael, and people might think you're interested." "I'd rather chew jeans." She laughed. “Good. Because he's not interested in freaks.” I smiled coldly. “Relax, Chloe. I'd never be interested in a Moretti. Thugs are more your type, anyway. You two have so much in common.” Her smile vanished. I picked up my bag. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than discuss a man I'd never touch with a ten-foot pole.” I walked away before she could respond. Across the ballroom, one of Rafael's friends made a joke about another student. Everyone laughed except Rafael, who said something too quietly for me to hear. The laughter died immediately. Interesting. Perhaps the devil did have standards. As if sensing my attention, he turned. Our eyes met, and his gaze lingered on my mismatched eyes. I waited for the familiar smirk or look of disgust, but he simply gave me a small, unreadable nod. I looked away, annoyed that I'd noticed him at all. We had never spoken, and I intended to keep it that way. Unfortunately, I hadn't gone far enough to escape his world. *** I was halfway to my car in the parking garage when a hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me backward. “Going somewhere?” My handbag slipped down my arm as I stumbled, nearly losing my balance. Brandon Hale stood behind me, his fingers digging into my skin, his tie hanging loose around his neck and alcohol thick on his breath. “Let go of me.” I tried pulling free. Instead, he tightened his grip and dragged me a step closer. “You embarrassed my girlfriend in front of everyone,” he snarled. “You think you can run your mouth and walk away?” “I'm not responsible for Chloe's fragile ego.” His expression hardened. "Watch your mouth, freak." "Watch your hands." I tried to pull away, but he pinned both my wrists against the car and leaned closer. "What's the matter? Those freak eyes stop working when you're scared?" "Brandon, I'm warning you." "Or what? You'll tell someone?" He laughed in my face. "Your family might own a few hotels, but mine can make your life hell before breakfast." He reached towards my face, and I slapped his hand away. His smile vanished. "Stupid bitch." He grabbed me harder, and panic began to creep into my chest. The garage was almost empty, and Brandon knew it. Then a cold voice cut through the darkness. "Take your f*****g hands off her." Rafael Moretti stood a few feet away, his expression colder than the concrete beneath our feet. Brandon released one of my wrists but kept hold of the other. "This has nothing to do with you, Moretti." "I won't repeat myself.” Brandon laughed nervously. "Are you playing hero for the freak? You want her? Take her. Maybe she'll curse you with those—" He didn't finish. He shoved Rafael in the chest. Everything happened so quickly that I barely understood it. Rafael grabbed Brandon's jacket and shoved him away. "Don't f*****g touch me." Brandon stumbled backwards, his heel catching against a broken section of concrete. He lost his balance and crashed into a length of exposed metal protruding from a damaged pillar. The sound he made was small, almost confused. Then he looked down. A metal rod protruded from his back. For one impossible second, nobody moved. Brandon's mouth opened, but no words came out before his knees buckled and he slid to the ground. Blood spread beneath him. "Oh, God." I stumbled backwards, clapping a hand over my mouth as Rafael dropped beside him, pressing both hands against the wound. "Someone call an ambulance!" he roared. "NOW!" Brandon's eyes fluttered, and Rafael pressed harder against the wound, his hands turning red. "Get up, you bastard. Do you hear me? Brandon" But Brandon's gaze had already begun to empty. I'd seen Rafael surrounded by people who feared him, but I'd never seen him look terrified until that moment. He looked up at me. "Ava." My name sounded different coming from his mouth. "He was going to hurt me," I whispered. "I know." He rose slowly, staring at the body between us. Sirens pierced the night before I could respond. Red and blue lights flashed against the garage walls as security personnel came running down the ramp, followed by men in dark suits. One of them tried to grab Rafael's arm. "Rafael Moretti?" Rafael jerked away. "Get your hands off me." Another man approached with a gun drawn. "Don't move!" Before Rafael could respond, a black SUV screeched to a halt at the garage entrance. The rear door opened, and a tall man stepped out, flanked by two armed guards. Don Vittorio Moretti. Rafael's father. He took one look at the dead boy, the blood covering his son's hands, and me standing beside the car. His expression didn't change, and somehow, that frightened me more than anything else. "Father," Rafael said. Vittorio's gaze settled on him. "What happened?" "He attacked her. I tried to help, and he fell. It was an accident.” For the first time, Vittorio looked directly at me. "Is that true, young lady?" I opened my mouth, ready to tell him everything, but he glanced at one of his men. "Secure the CCTV footage." Then he turned to Rafael. "Do you understand what you've done?" "I didn't mean to kill him." "Intent is a luxury we may not have tonight. Cease him.” Two men seized Rafael's arms. He fought them immediately, but one twisted his arm behind his back while another forced him towards the wall. "Get the f**k off me!" Vittorio barely glanced at his struggling son before nodding to the approaching police officers. "Take her in for questioning." I stared at him. "What? I didn't do anything!"