FIVE
1053 Words
Adinna’s POV
Jace’s face hardens, his jaw so tight I swear I can hear his teeth grind. The red imprint of my slap still flames across his cheek, a reminder of my audacity.
He doesn’t waste a second as his hand shoots out, rough and unyielding, and he yanks me against him. The sudden force makes my breath hitch. My shoulder slams into his chest, and for a moment, the heat of his fury radiates into me like fire through fabric. His grip on my arm tightens , not enough to bruise, but enough to tell me he can if he wants.
“You think you’re brave,” he hisses, voice low but thick with venom.
I glare up at him, forcing myself not to flinch. “No. I know I am.”
The crowd surrounding us has fallen silent. Even the breeze that rustled the trees in the courtyard seems to hold its breath.
Dozens of eyes are fixed on us, some wide with excitement, others with fear, and a few with the cruel anticipation of people watching a blood sport.
I raise my hand again, ready to strike a second time just to prove he doesn’t scare me, but Jace was faster. His hand snaps up, catching my wrist mid-swing. His smirk spreads slowly, cruel and knowing. And then, with deliberate slowness, he slides his other hand into his pocket. The students press closer, a murmur rippling through them like a wave across water. My stomach tightens, but I refuse to let him see any hesitation. He withdraws something from his pocket.
An ace card.
A gasp shoots through the crowd, sharp and collective, like they have all rehearsed it. I frown, staring at the card between his fingers. “What the actual f**k is this?”
Without breaking eye contact, Jace flicks the card. It slices through the air with precision, landing flat against my palm. The sound of it smacking into my skin seems louder than it should have. I stare at it, confused, and before I can even form words, the whispers start.
“I feel so sorry for her.”
“She’s finished.”
“An ace card on her first day. Poor girl.”
My pulse jumps. Why are they whispering apologies to me?
“What is wrong with you people?” I snap, swatting the card to the ground like it was infected. I lift my chin and shoot Jace a look that I hope conveys every ounce of disgust I feel.
“You suddenly want to play poker with me, Jace? This is supposed to be your big, bad intimidation act?”
He leans in, so close I can smell the faint mix of cologne. His lips brushes my ear as he whispers, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
His words are low, but they carry the weight of a curse.
Then he straightens, shoves his hands casually into his pockets, and walks away as though nothing had happened. His crew follow like loyal shadows.
The students dissolve almost immediately, though they leave a storm behind them; stares, murmurs, and pity disguised as curiosity. My heart thunders, but I force my spine straight.
“What the hell just happened?” I mutter under my breath.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Riley’s voice comes from behind me. I turn to find her watching me with wide, wary eyes.
“Care to enlighten me?” I fold my arms, masking the way my hands still tremble.
Her face hardens. “That card is not a joke. It means you’re marked. Jace just declared open season on you.”
I snort sharply and humorlessly. “What is this, high school mafia? You’re exaggerating.”
“I wish I was.” Riley steps closer, lowering her voice like she is afraid of being overheard. “The ace means he won’t stop until he breaks you. And the worst part? He won’t have to lift a finger. The whole school will do it for him.”
A chill slides down my spine. But I can’t let her see fear. “The whole school? What is he, a god that everyone here worships?”
“Not worship.” Riley’s expression darkens. “Fear. If they don’t join in, they’ll be next. So congratulations, Adinna. You’re about to become every bully’s favorite project.”
I roll my eyes, though my chest feels like it has been filled with ice. “Please. I’m not scared of some spoiled rich boy with a deck of cards. Let him try.”
Riley looks at me like I’d just signed my own death warrant. “Just… be careful,” she whispers. “Be very careful.”
Her warning lodges in my brain like a thorn, but I shove it aside. Fear isn’t an option. Not for me.
The rest of the school day crawls by, every step weighted with the memory of that stupid card. I tell myself that Riley was exaggerating, but it is impossible to ignore the sidelong glances, the muffled snickers, the way conversations die the second I enter a room.
By the time classes end, I am exhausted from pretending I didn’t notice. My shoulders ache from the tension of keeping them squared, my jaw is sore from grinding my teeth.
Finally, I stepped into the courtyard, the path back to the dorms stretching ahead like a promise of relief. I am halfway there when it happens, something cold and wet crashing over my head.
I gasp, the liquid soaking into my hair, seeping down my face, dripping into my collar. My hands fly up instinctively, but it is useless. The sour smell hits me a bit later, milk.
I stand there frozen, drenched from head to toe with the white liquid clinging to my uniform in sticky streaks. My skin crawls at the sensation.
A sharp and cruel laughter echoes off the walls across the courtyard and I spin around, searching the shadows, scanning the groups of students lingering in the distance.
“Who the hell did that?!” I shout, my voice trembling with fury.
Silence answers me. No one steps forward. No one even flinches.
The laughter has already died down, leaving me standing alone, dripping and humiliated, with milk pooling around my shoes.
- Writer
