WRECKED BY YOU

Chapter Ten: Shadows and Shattered Trust

Victory felt good.

For about five minutes.

Zara strutted through the halls of Saint Matthew’s with a reputation now whispered in awe — the girl who took down Trey Whitmore. But with every pair of eyes watching her, there was something else she could feel, something colder.

Resentment.

Trey had been powerful, protected. Untouchable.

Until her.

And nobody rises that fast without making enemies.

⸻

By midweek, she knew something was off.

First, her chemistry project disappeared from the lab. Then her locker was broken into — her sketchbook ripped to shreds, and someone had smeared “w***e” across the inside wall in red lipstick.

Zara stared at the mess, rage boiling up like acid. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even flinch.

She was done playing weak.

⸻

She found Jace behind the gym, knuckles bloodied from another fight — some i***t junior who called her a name in front of him.

“You can’t keep punching your way through this,” she said, wiping blood from his lip.

“And you can’t keep walking around like you’re not being hunted,” he shot back. “They’re not done, Zara.”

“I know,” she whispered.

But what neither of them knew — not yet — was just how deep the cuts were about to go.

⸻

That night, Zara’s phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

1 new message.

“You think Trey was the only threat? That was the warm-up, baby girl. Let’s see how well you survive the real fire.”

Attached: a picture.

Of her.

Naked.

Asleep.

In Jace’s bed.

Zara’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t even breathe. Her hands shook as she clicked through the photo again.

Who took it?

When?

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.

She burst into Jace’s room, fury in her eyes. “Someone sent this to me.”

Jace grabbed the phone. His eyes darkened with something she couldn’t name.

Then his voice turned flat. Cold.

“…You think it was me.”

Zara hesitated.

He stared at her like she’d just stabbed him. “You think I’d do that to you?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” she shouted. “How could anyone else get that close, Jace?”

He backed away like she’d burned him. “You don’t trust me.”

“I want to—”

“But you don’t.”

Silence fell between them. A kind that didn’t feel safe or static — it felt like something had cracked.

Badly.

⸻

Zara left his room that night without another word.

Her chest ached. Her throat felt raw. But there was something deeper under the hurt:

The realization that someone was still watching her.

Still waiting.

Still playing.

And they weren’t just trying to hurt her.

They were trying to break her.