Page 14

CHAPTER 14

Raven

I walk through campus like a damn cliché—barefoot, carrying my heels, last night’s makeup smudged under my eyes, my hair a tangled mess. The toga dress Malakai gave me is wrinkled beyond saving, and I probably look like I just crawled out of some frat house after an all-nighter.

Only, it wasn’t a frat house.

And it wasn’t just some drunk mistake.

I swallow hard, pushing the thought down. My body still aches in places I’ve never felt before, a mix of soreness and something else—something I refuse to name. My mind is a mess, guilt and something darker tangled together like a storm I can’t get out of.

I just need a shower. And sleep. And maybe to erase the last twelve hours from existence.

I reach my dorm, already digging for my keys, when the door swings open.

Alex.

Shit.

He looks like he hasn’t slept, his blond hair a mess, his hoodie wrinkled like he’s been pacing in it all night. His eyes lock onto me, then lower, taking in my appearance. The wrinkles in the dress. The bare feet. The bruises blooming along my collarbone.

His jaw clenches so tight I swear I hear his teeth grind.

"Where the fuck were you?"

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"You were gone all night, Raven. Do you have any idea how that looked?" His voice is sharp, loud enough that I flinch. "You didn’t answer your phone. You just—just disappeared."

I step inside, pushing past him. "It was in the contract, Alex. You knew I had to stay the whole night."

"That’s not what I’m talking about!" He slams the door shut behind me, running a hand through his hair. "I mean—Jesus, Raven. Look at yourself."

I am looking.

At my red lipstick smeared across my chin. At the bruises Malakai left on my skin, not from pain, but from holding me, marking me. At the way my body still remembers last night like it’s brand new.

I wrap my arms around myself. "I don’t understand why you’re yelling at me. You asked me to do this."

"Not to fucking sleep with him!" Alex spits, his voice cracking.

The words hit me like a slap.

I inhale sharply, my throat closing up. "What?"

Alex’s eyes darken. He yanks his phone from his pocket, swipes at the screen, then shoves it in front of my face.

I stare.

My breath catches.

It’s a photo.

Me, asleep on Malakai’s arm, my face tucked against his shoulder, my lips slightly parted in sleep. His tattooed arm is draped over my waist like he owns me. My toga is slipping dangerously low, exposing the top of my bare breasts.

Malakai is awake.

Looking right at the camera.

Smirking.

And the caption?

"Lamb’s been tamed. Who’s next?"

My stomach twists so violently I might actually be sick.

My voice comes out weak. "Where did you get this?"

"He sent it to me." Alex’s voice is shaking now, something raw underneath all the fury. "Malakai fucking Vega sent this to me at three in the morning."

I slap a hand over my mouth.

Oh, God.

This was never just between us.

Malakai—he wanted Alex to know .

He wanted to humiliate him.

I feel something crack inside me, and I reach out, gripping Alex’s wrist. "I—Alex, I didn’t?—"

"Don’t." He yanks away from me like my touch burns.

"Please," I whisper, voice breaking. "I didn’t mean for this to happen."

"Didn’t mean for what?" He lets out a bitter laugh, eyes blazing. "To end up sleeping with him? To let him put his hands all over you? To make me look like an absolute idiot?"

Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. "You asked me to do this. You pushed me into it?—"

"And I thought you’d have enough self-respect not to spread your fucking legs for him!"

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

I take a shaky step back. "Wow." My voice is nothing but air. "Okay."

Alex exhales, dragging a hand over his face, like he can’t stand to look at me anymore. "I can’t do this right now." He grabs his keys from the dresser, throws on his jacket.

He won’t even look me in the eye.

"I just—" He shakes his head. "I don’t know what this means for us."

Then he’s gone.

The door slams behind him, and I’m alone.

I stare at the empty space he left behind, my whole body numb, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I want to scream. I want to throw something. I want to undo everything.

But I can’t.

Because the worst part isn’t the guilt.

The worst part is that I don’t regret last night.

Not really.

And that scares me more than anything else.

I stare at the door. My ears are still ringing from the way it slammed; my whole body stays frozen, like my brain hasn’t caught up yet.

Alex is gone.

And it’s not like before—not like the fights we’ve had over stupid shit, where I could send a text and everything would smooth over. This isn’t that.

This is him leaving because of me .

Because of what I did.

My fingers tremble as I reach for my phone, scrolling back to the picture. It’s still there. Mocking me.

Malakai’s smirking like the arrogant bastard he is, his arm draped possessively over my waist, his fingers resting low on my hip like he had every fucking right to touch me. And I—Jesus Christ. I’m asleep on him. Completely knocked out, my head against his chest, my body practically wrapped around him.

The caption hurts more than anything else. To think of what happened, and what it meant to Malakai...

My stomach twists so violently I gag.

I slap the phone face down onto my desk like that will let me unsee it, like I can erase whatever the fuck just happened.

He planned this.

He used me.

I thought last night was just... reckless. A mistake, sure. A bad idea, definitely. But ours. Not some fucking power move for him to get back at Alex.

But it was.

My first time, my first time, and Malakai didn’t just take it—he turned it into a goddamn joke.

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling way too exposed.

What the hell is his problem?

Why is he so fucking obsessed with hurting Alex?

I let out a shaky breath, gripping my forearm so hard my nails leave marks. My thoughts are spiraling, spinning out of control, my pulse racing like I’m still running through that damn forest.

But I’m not running.

I’m standing here, in my dorm room, with nothing left to hold onto.

My legs buckle before I can stop them.

I sink onto my bed, gripping my pillow so hard it should tear apart.

I can still feel him.

His hands. His mouth. The way he took his fucking time, like he was memorizing me. Like I mattered.

Lies.

All of it.

A strangled sound leaves my throat—something between a sob and a scream. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. My mind replays last night like a cluttered highlight reel, twisting the memories into something unbearable.

His voice whispering against my skin. "Relax, Lamb. You have no idea how good I can make this for you." The way he watched me fall apart for him.

And then, that fucking picture.

That caption.

My chest heaves, my breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. What the fuck did I do?

I feel sick.

I hate him. I fucking hate him.

But I hate myself more.

I thought I had control. I thought last night, for the first time in my life, I was choosing something. Not being told what to do. Not following someone else’s rules.

But it was never my choice.

It was always his game, a game he carefully planned and executed.

My body moves before my brain can stop it. I grab the stupid toga still crumpled on the floor and rip it, tearing the cheap fabric apart with shaking hands.

"Fuck you, Malakai," I hiss under my breath. I don't think I ever swore so much in my entire life. I'm swearing at him mentally and into thin air. My mind is a complicated mess of anger, hurt, guilt... and it's making me think the worst of myself. It's turning me into a person I never imagined I could be.

I throw the scraps across the room, my chest rising and falling too fast, my whole body humming with rage. I grab my pillow next, launching it at the wall. Then my laundry basket. Then whatever the fuck else I can get my hands on.

But none of it helps.

None of it fucking changes what I did.

What he did.

I shove my hands into my hair, gripping the strands at the roots, trying to keep myself together.

I never should have trusted him.

I never should have let him touch me.

But no matter how much I try to hate it, I can’t erase the way it felt.

And that’s what really kills me.

Stumbling into the tiny dorm bathroom, I grip the edges of the sink like it might keep me upright. My reflection stares back at me, and I barely recognize the girl in the mirror.

Hair tangled, makeup smeared, lips swollen.

A bruise is already forming on my collarbone.

Malakai’s hands. His mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut, turning away before I can spiral again.

I need to get clean.

The shower knob creaks as I twist it all the way to hot, steam curling up around me as I step under the spray. The water burns , scalding against my skin, but I don’t care. I scrub at my arms, my neck, my thighs—everywhere he touched me, everywhere I let him own me.

It doesn’t work.

No matter how hard I scrub, I still feel him. The heat of his hands. The rough drag of his mouth down my throat. The way he waited, watching, reading me like he fucking knew me.

I press my forehead against the tiles, water pouring down my back.

I shouldn’t have done it.

But my body betrayed me.

And it still remembers.

Still aches in a way I don’t understand.

It still wants .

My throat tightens. I slap the faucet off and step out, my legs unsteady as I wrap myself in a towel. I’m still shaking when I sit on the edge of my bed, dragging my phone toward me.

Did Malakai send me anything?

I hate myself for even checking.

But my fingers hover over the screen, stomach twisting as I unlock my messages.

Nothing.

Of course not.

He got what he wanted—broke Alex, broke me , sent his little message to the world. I was just another girl on his list, another night of fun before he moved the fuck on.

I clench my teeth, throwing my phone onto my desk.

Fine.

I don’t want to talk to him either.

But then I check my texts again, just once more.

Still nothing from Alex.

A different kind of weight settles in my chest.

Is he just… done with me?

Is this it?

He said he didn’t know what this meant for us. But what if that’s his way of saying we’re over ?

My breath catches.

Alex has been my best friend since we were kids. He’s the one person I thought would always be there.

But the way he looked at me this morning? The disgust in his voice?

Maybe I ruined it.

Maybe I ruined everything .

I curl up on my side, pulling the blanket over me.

I don’t want to think about Alex.

I don’t want to think about Malakai.

But no matter how hard I try, I can still feel them both lingering like ghosts under my fucking skin.

The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, pressing in around me until I can’t fucking breathe.

I snap.

I shoot up, grabbing the ripped pieces of the toga and hurling them across the room.

“Fuck you, Malakai!” I scream, even though he’s not here .

I throw another pillow at the wall. I shove my desk chair so hard it topples over. My bedside lamp crashes to the floor, shattering.

None of it helps.

None of it erases what happened.

What he did.

What I did.

I trusted him for one fucking night , let my guard down, and he turned it into a weapon.

I should’ve seen it coming.

I should’ve known .

I stand there, breathing hard, my room wrecked around me.

I should cry. I should feel something.

Instead, I feel… nothing.

Numb.

Empty.

Like I burned out whatever was left inside me.

I sink onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

I won’t let Malakai win.

I won’t let him break me the way he wants to.

Whatever his problem with Alex is? That’s his problem.

I won’t be a pawn in their fucked-up war.

I won’t let myself want him again.

I won’t.

But as my eyes close, exhaustion finally dragging me under, one final thought lingers in the back of my mind.

It’s already too late.