Elias's POV
Maeve Sinclair.
That girl.
Even now, standing on the edge of the court, I couldn't get the image of her out of my head, the sting of her palm across my cheek, the way the entire library had gone silent after that single, reckless slap.
No one had ever touched me like that. No one would've dared.
But Maeve?
She hadn't even flinched.
And now she sat there on the bench, ankle wrapped, acting as though she hadn't just turned the entire school upside down with that one act.
I'd been glaring at her since I stepped on the court.
I didn't even care to hide it. Let her see. Let her feel the weight of my hatred pressing into her bones. How dare she? How dare she humiliate me in front of everyone, like I was some ordinary mortal she could swat away?
She was infuriating.
Even now, her scent threaded through the air, warm and unexplainably intoxicating. Too sweet. Too alive.
