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714 Words
KAELEN'S
I'd already turned my back on her. Told myself I didn’t give a s**t what she did next—standing there soaked and shivering like an i***t instead of running like I’d ordered. My boys were laughing behind me, someone clapping me on the shoulder, and I was two steps from wiping the whole damn thing from my mind.
"I think you’ve gone too far this time, even for you, Vance."
That voice. I knew it before I even turned, and it lit a fuse straight to my gut.
I spun around.
Oclanov had already draped his fancy Senate jacket over her shoulders, gold threads and all that pretentious crest bullshit. His hand rested at the small of her back like he owned the right to touch her.
Something ugly slammed shut in my chest.
I told myself it was the mess she’d caused. The chairs. The soup she’d thrown at me. That’s all it was. Not the jacket. Not his hand on her. Not the way she let him steer her away.
There he was, right on cue. I’d hated that smug prick since we were fourteen and he beat me in debate with his polished lies and pretty-boy smile. Nothing had changed. Still acting like the whole school owed him a medal for breathing.
"Oclanov. Stay the f**k out of it." My voice came out low and rough. "This is between me and that delusional little mutt."
"Your business ended the second you decided to act like a rabid animal in the middle of the cafeteria." His voice stayed calm, controlled. I hated that s**t most of all. He turned her gently by the arm, playing the perfect gentleman for the crowd. "Come on, Maya. This place reeks of ego."
My ego. Coming from the golden boy who probably clapped for himself every time he took a piss.
I watched his hand stay on her arm. Three steps. Four. My blood ran hot, then cold, some feral thing clawing up my spine, telling me to rip his arm off and put my hand where it belonged. Remind her who she’d been shaking for ten minutes ago before this asshole swooped in for the photo op.
I didn’t say the word. I’d rather bite my tongue off than let Oclanov hear me claim her out loud.
What came out was worse.
"Don’t touch her, Oclanov."
Darren turned, still wearing that calm, superior expression. "She’s not a possession, Vance."
That did it.
I don’t remember closing the distance. One second there was space, the next my fist was twisted in his shirt and my knuckles were smashing into his jaw. The crack was the most honest sound in the whole f*****g cafeteria.
Chairs toppled. Someone screamed her name. Part of me was glad she was watching. Glad she got to see golden boy bleed for once.
I stood over him, chest heaving, the wolf under my skin pushing so close to the surface I didn’t trust what I might do next.
"STOP RIGHT THERE! KAELEN VANCE!"
Middleton’s voice sliced through the chaos. I straightened up, jaw tight, breathing hard. I didn’t regret the punch. Not for a second.
The old man ripped into me, donations, untouchable, consequences. Same speech as always. I let it roll off.
What I didn’t expect was her eyes locking onto mine over his shoulder.
For one dangerous second, neither of us looked away. It hit harder than the punch. Harder than the scent. Harder than anything I’d felt since she stepped on campus smelling like trouble I had no business wanting.
She looked away first.
Smart girl.
My chest didn’t agree. Not even close.
Middleton kept barking at Oclanov now—senate conduct, family names, all that bullshit. I barely heard it. I was too busy hating how badly I’d wanted to say that one four-letter word out loud… and how little it mattered to the animal in my chest that had already claimed her a hundred times over.
At least I got to watch Oclanov wipe blood off his pretty face. Small f*****g victories.
"Kaelen Vance. Darren Oclanov. And you, Miss Miller. My office. Now."
Fine by me. Four walls and a reason to stay pissed off was a hell of a lot easier than the alternative.
- Writer
