3

POV: Serena Vale

Glitter and venom meet me at the steps—Hailey blocks the path like she owns the night.

“Perfect,” she croons, sweet as a razor. “Found you.”

“No audience needed,” I say, edging right.

“Too late.” She shifts to shadow my move, smile sharpening. “We’re talking.”

“About what?” My voice stays flat. “Your boyfriend’s public execution of a match?”

Her laugh clicks like a camera shutter. “About you throwing yourself at Kai Riven the second Jace showed mercy.”

“Mercy?” Heat stings my eyes, not tears—anger. “Jace humiliated me in front of everyone.”

“Honesty hurts,” she says, tilting her head. “He spared you years of embarrassment. Be grateful.”

“Not my religion.” I step again; she slides with me. “Move.”

“Or what?” Her brows lift. “You’ll text your new king?”

“Stop pretending this is about morals.” My pulse steadies into steel. “This is about you hating that he looked at me at all—even to hurt me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She leans in, perfume sugary, words poison. “You don’t belong in our circles, Serena. Not our pack, not our bloodlines, not our rooms.”

“I belong to myself,” I say. “And I owe no one penance for being rejected.”

“Then quit parading your bruise like a sympathy badge.” Her gaze drops to my wrist. “You really think pressing it under Kai’s nose makes you shiny?”

“Jace put his hands on me. That’s the story.” I keep my chin up. “Start there.”

“Jace did what he had to do,” she fires back. “You were clinging.”

“Clinging?” A laugh scrapes out of me. “He barely whispered my name before he cut the cord.”

“Because he’s decent,” she snaps. “Because you weren’t meant to shine.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” I say. “Maybe it’ll sound true someday.”

“Enough.” Her mouth flattens. “Say you’ll leave him alone.”

“I don’t chase what throws me away.”

“Say it,” she insists, voice bright with threat.

“Not yours to command.”

Shove—hard, fast, mean.

Concrete rushes up; balance vanishes; air claws out of my lungs.

Hands catch my waist—warm, steady, familiar.

“Don’t touch her,” Jace growls, voice rough enough to scratch the dark.

Hailey jolts, glittered bravado cracking. “Excuse me?”

He draws me upright like I’m something he remembers how to hold and suddenly hates himself for forgetting. Fingers ghost away from my dress; space reappears between our bodies, thin as breath.

“Don’t touch her,” he repeats, stare leveled at Hailey.

“You’re kidding.” She scoffs, disbelief bending into rage. “She practically—”

“I said don’t.” Each word lands heavy. “Back off.”

Silence gulps the parking lot—only a far siren, a humming streetlight, the soft whirr of everyone’s curiosity. My heartbeat relocates to my mouth.

“Where was this,” I ask, voice small and sharp at once, “when you humiliated me?”

His features crumple, pride fighting guilt and losing. “Serena—”

“Speak carefully,” Hailey warns him, eyes like knives. “She’s playing you.”

He ignores her, gaze on me like I’m the only horizon. “I—”

Palm lifts toward my cheek, slow, tentative.

“Don’t,” I whisper, stepping back before his skin can remember mine. “Don’t make this harder.”

Color drains from his face. “I made a mistake.”

“Call it what it is,” I say. “A choice.”

Hailey barks out a laugh without joy. “Finally, vocabulary. Choice: he chose not to be dragged down by—”

“Stop,” Jace snaps, not looking at her. “Just—stop.”

“Defending charity now?” she spits. “Cute season arc.”

“This isn’t about you,” he says.

“Everything at Northwood is about me.” She smiles, feral. “And you know it.”

“Go inside,” he orders, jaw tight.

“Make me,” she purrs, but her feet don’t inch closer.

“Please,” I say to both of them, desperation bladed thin. “I’m done arguing in front of an open door.”

Hailey’s attention flicks toward the gym—phones nudging glass, mouths forming O’s—and back to me with triumph. “They’re watching, Serena. Try not to trip over your new standards.”

“Try not to trip over your old ones,” I say, calm landing like frost. “We’re finished here.”

She steps forward—one stiletto-length—then thinks better, turns in a whirl of hair and spite, and stalks toward her flock. “Pathetic,” drifts back like a slur.

Jace stays. Quiet chews the distance between us.

“I should have handled it privately,” he says, voice hoarse. “I thought—”

“You thought protecting your image mattered more than protecting me.” No waver now. “Own it.”

“I’m owning it,” he says, throat working. “I’m—sorry.”

“That word won’t sew this shut.”

“I know.” He swallows. “I know.”

“You wanted clear,” I add. “Here’s mine: I owe you nothing.”

He looks gutted, like his name’s been carved out of him. “I shouldn’t have rejected you.”

No victory rises in me—only a tired ache that started in a glowing circle and keeps echoing. “Truth with a timestamp still comes late.”

“Serena—”

“Stop.” A breath kicks my ribs. “No more tonight.”

Movement snags the corner of my eye; Hailey’s crew pretends not to film. Teachers smoke by the dumpsters, not interfering. Stars hide behind cloud edges like they don’t want to witness this either.

My feet finally remember to move. One step past him. Another.

“Where are you going?” he asks, softer.

“Anywhere that isn’t this conversation.”

He doesn’t follow, or maybe he can’t. Asphalt glints ahead, slick and black under the streetlamp’s jitter. My wrist throbs where his fingers once didn’t hesitate; cold air nurses the sting.

No checking over the shoulder. No second chances offered to someone who cashed out my dignity for applause. Pavement carries me past faculty cars rimed with dew, past a pair of freshmen whispering secrets, past a flyer fluttering on a notice board that doesn’t have my name and never did.

Footfalls stay behind me—his, hers, the crowd’s—until noise thins into hum and night grows wide enough to hold what I can’t say. Breath steadies. Spine stacks. Every step becomes a promise to myself instead of a plea to anyone else.

Headlights roll along the curb without hurry, a dark shape sliding into my periphery like a thought I don’t want to name. Engine purrs quieter than my pulse. Paint drinks the light—mirror black, windows tinted, presence unmistakable.

A black SUV eases to a stop beside me.

Back door swings open.

Cold, expensive air spills out—leather, winter, command.

“Serena. Get in.”