The week dragged forward, every hour heavy with the weight of expectation. Sophie told herself she wouldn't think about Marcus, wouldn't look for him in the halls, wouldn't hear his voice echoing in her mind.
But the harder she tried, the more impossible it became.
He was everywhere. Leaning against lockers, laughter spilling from his lips as his friends crowded around him. Slouched in his chair during class, eyes half-closed but never unaware. Sophie caught herself glancing at him too often, like her gaze had been tethered against her will.
And every time, she cursed herself for it.
By Wednesday afternoon, the rain had stopped, but the sky remained dull, clouds pressing low. Sophie lingered after the final bell, taking her time packing her books. She hoped if she left later, the halls would be emptier.
Her plan almost worked. Almost.
She turned a corner near the gym and froze. Three of them stood there—Marcus's friends. The ringleaders of the jeering chorus.
"Hey, look who it is." One of them grinned, stepping into her path. His eyes glittered with the thrill of the hunt.
Sophie's pulse spiked. She clutched her books tighter and tried to move past, but another boy slid sideways, blocking her.
"Going somewhere, Nobody?"
The word hit like a slap. Her breath quickened. She glanced over her shoulder—empty hallway. No one was coming.
"Leave me alone," she said, her voice quieter than she meant.
They laughed. One of them knocked her books from her arms. Pages scattered across the floor like broken wings. Sophie dropped to her knees, scrambling to collect them.
A sneaker pressed down on her notebook, pinning it to the floor. She looked up, heart in her throat.
Marcus.
He stood over her, expression unreadable. His friends grinned, waiting for him to finish the game.
"Well?" one of them said. "Say something."
For a long moment, Marcus didn't move. His dark eyes locked on Sophie's, and she saw it again—the hesitation, the flicker of something human.
Then he smirked, bending to scoop up her notebook. He held it out, just beyond her reach.
"Careful," he said, voice low enough for only her to hear. "Wouldn't want to lose your whole life in these pages."
His friends laughed, thinking it was another jab. But Sophie felt something different in his tone—something that made her stomach twist.
She snatched the notebook from his hand, clutching it to her chest. "You don't know anything about me."
Marcus straightened, tilting his head. "Maybe I'd like to."
The others whooped, elbowing each other. "Hear that? He's flirting with her now."
Sophie's face burned. She shoved past them, forcing her legs to move even as her hands shook. She didn't look back. She couldn't.
That night, Sophie lay awake long after midnight. The house was silent, her mother asleep down the hall, but her mind wouldn't rest.
She replayed the scene over and over. His friends' laughter, the way his shadow loomed over her, the smirk that always seemed to mask something else.
And the words. Maybe I'd like to.
She pressed her pillow over her face, as if she could suffocate the memory. She hated him. She hated the way he made her heart pound, hated that her mind twisted his cruelty into something more complicated.
But beneath the hatred was something worse.
Curiosity.
Thursday brought no relief. The whispers in the hall grew louder. She caught fragments—her name tangled with Marcus's, laughter trailing after it. The pack had noticed his attention. And attention, in their world, was dangerous.
By lunch, Sophie had retreated to her usual spot outside. She sat on the damp stone steps, knees pulled to her chest, an untouched sandwich in her hand.
The door creaked open. She tensed, bracing for another cruel joke.
But it was only Marcus.
He stepped outside, hands in his pockets, posture loose. He didn't bring his friends.
Sophie stiffened. "What do you want now?"
He didn't answer right away. He leaned against the railing, gaze on the cloudy sky. "You're braver than you think."
Her laugh was sharp. "Brave? Is that what you call being humiliated every day?"
His eyes flicked to her, steady, dark. "Brave is showing up anyway."
Sophie's throat tightened. She wanted to tell him to shut up, to leave her alone. She wanted to throw his words back at him, remind him that he was the reason she needed bravery at all.
But she couldn't. Because deep down, part of her wanted to believe him.
"Why are you saying this?" she whispered.
For once, he didn't smirk. His expression softened—barely, but enough to make her chest ache. "Maybe I'm tired of the game."
The silence between them was heavier than any laughter. Sophie's breath came unsteady, her heart pounding.
Then the cafeteria doors burst open, and two of his friends spilled out, mid-conversation.
Marcus pushed off the railing, slipping his mask back into place with effortless ease. "See you around, Nobody," he said loudly, smirk curling his lips.
His friends laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as they walked away together.
Sophie sat frozen, her hands trembling around the sandwich she hadn't touched.
She told herself she hated him. She told herself he was the worst of them all.
But her heart, traitorous and aching, whispered something else.
There was a crack in Marcus Hale's armor.
And Sophie was terrified she was starting to see through it.