The cafeteria didn't go quiet because the fight stopped.
It went quiet because of the guy who grabbed my wrist.
Silence slammed down like a damn hammer.
Like someone hit pause on the entire school and even the air wasn't sure if it should keep moving. Trays clattered to a stop. Conversations died mid-sentence. Every head snapped our way like we were the final episode of a bloody drama—and no one wanted to miss a second.
And his hand—God, his hand was warm. Firm without crushing, fingers wrapping around my wrist with this absolute control that made my heartbeat trip over itself. Not rough. Not soft. He had this kind of veiny hands -
Gawd... Was I seriously checking him out right now?!
He didn't squeeze. But the grip made my stomach knot in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the fact that my body had apparently decided it wanted to betray me at the worst possible time.
His fingers slid off my wrist slowly, as he momentarily stared at me like I was even worth is time - and I wanted to say I didn't tell you to be here and act like a damn hero.
Cause that was what it looked like. How cliche.
My heart was still going off like a damn fire alarm in my chest.
I turned.
And—holy sh*t.
Tall. Like, holy crap, who made you in a lab tall. Broad shoulders under a black hoodie that clung just enough to show muscle without trying. His hair was a wild mess of black that somehow looked better than anyone else's on their best day. His jawline was sharper than truth, and his expression? Cold. Unbothered. Like he'd seen it all and didn't give a single f***.
And then his eyes—
Ice-blue. Focused. Piercing through layers of skin and straight into your damn secrets.
There was a scar above his left brow—thin and silver like someone tried to slice through the quiet inside him and failed. Around his neck, swinging slightly under the flickering cafeteria lights, was the chain.
Number 1.
Oh. Now I get the whole fuss.
This wasn't some random guy stepping in.
This was him.
The chain no one touched. The leader above all chains.
He didn't even glance at me again. His attention locked on Spencer like a sniper sight. And Spencer—smirky, smug Spencer—actually shifted back.
"Spencer," the guy said, voice low and even, like a quiet threat wrapped in velvet. "What's going on here?"
Spencer rubbed his jaw, trying to act cool. "Just having a little fun with the newbie, Chase."
Chase.
My stomach did a flip.
So this was Chase Everett.
The one with the chain and the rep and the unshakable calm like he didn't just rule the school—he owned it.
I barked out a laugh. "Fun? That's what we're calling it now?"
Chase didn't say anything.
Didn't have to.
Because right then, the crusty intercom crackled, followed by a voice that could ruin your day faster than bad Wi-Fi.
"Camille Jones and Spencer Blake. To my office. Now."
Everyone flinched.
Chase? Nah. He didn't blink. Didn't twitch. Just stood there like gravity didn't apply to him.
I turned to leave, still fuming, but as I passed Spencer, I heard Chase lean in and say something so quiet it brushed the edge of silence.
"I don't pay you to have fun. I pay you to keep peace."
I stopped.
My spine went stiff.
What the actual f—?
---
The walk to the principal's office was short, but I felt every damn step.
Spencer strolled behind me like he was on his way to brunch, not about to lie his way out of getting his teeth knocked in.
Me? My fists were still balled. My chest felt too small for how hard my heart was pounding.
The office looked like a graveyard for ambition. Beige walls. Dusty air. A fake-ass plant in the corner dying a slow, painful death. The chairs creaked like they were protesting anyone sitting in them.
Mr. Sullivan looked up from his desk with that tight smile people fake when they're just waiting to pounce. His glasses sat crooked on his nose. His beard trimmed like he thought it gave him power.
He glanced at me like I was gum on the bottom of his loafer.
"Ah, Camille Jones," he said, slow and smug. "Didn't take you long, did it?"
I clenched my jaw. "Didn't take him long to get physical either."
Spencer slid in behind me like he owned the damn building. The second he stepped in, Mr. Sullivan's whole vibe changed. His voice even softened.
"Spencer," he said with a nod. "Good. Come in."
My blood boiled.
Spencer plopped down in the chair next to me like he was bored.
Mr. Sullivan leaned forward, lacing his fingers. "Camille. Fighting? On your third day?"
I folded my arms. "He hit me first. I defended myself."
He lifted a brow like I just said the sky was green.
"Really. That's not what I heard."
Spencer gave a dry chuckle. "She's crazy, Principal. Came at me like a rabid stray. I was just trying to be friendly."
I snapped my head toward him. "Friendly? You were harassing me, you little piece of—"
"Enough," Mr. Sullivan said, cutting me off like he had somewhere better to be. "Spencer says it was a misunderstanding."
"Oh, of course he does." I laughed bitterly. "And let me guess—you just believe him?"
He sat back. "He's a peace custodian. He's earned trust here."
I blinked. "A what now?"
"A peace custodian."
"What the actual hell does that mean? Is that, like, some code name for school bully?"
Mr. Sullivan didn't appreciate the tone, clearly. "Watch yourself, Camille."
"Why?" I leaned forward. "Because I'm calling out your precious Spencer for being a damn bully?"
Mr. Sullivan's voice went cold. "You're on thin ice already. Do you really want to make it worse?"
"Oh, I wasn't the one starting fights, remember? I was the one getting slapped."
"Spencer says otherwise."
"Yeah, and I say he's a damn liar!"
"Enough!" he barked, making me flinch lightly but I still remained my stance cause if I wanted to break it wouldn't be in front of this damn two.
Silence.
Tight. Electric. My nails were digging into my palms as I tried not to punch this man in front of me.
"You're getting a warning," Mr. Sullivan said through clenched teeth. "And Spencer—"
He turned to him like they were old pals."...will receive a minor consequence."
Right.
My mouth dropped. "Are you serious? What kind of bullsh*t is this?!"
"That's the final decision. Any more outbursts, Camille, and you'll be facing suspension. Or worse."
I stood up. "Fine. Screw this."
"Watch your language—"
"No thanks," I said, halfway out the door. "You already watched me get slapped and did nothing."
---
Out in the hallway, the air felt thick.
Spencer leaned against the wall with the same stupid smirk like he couldn't wait to gloat.
"You're gonna regret that little tantrum," he said, voice low and syrupy. "Thought you were tough."
I stopped.
Faced him head-on.
"I'm not scared of you," I said, slow. Sharp.
He tilted his head. "You will be." he walked off like he owned the school.
Like he ran this place from the inside out.
Maybe he did.
Maybe this place was built for assholes like him.
But I wasn't built to back down.
This place might be hell...
But I'd been through worse.
And I wasn't going down without a fight.
Not now.
Not ever.
---