Kianna’s Pov:
I sat cross-legged on my dorm bed, knees pulled to my chest, phone clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles had gone white.
The screen was dark now, but the images were burned into my mind: Maddox’s laughing face lit by the glow of soone else’s phone, Emily stumbling, tears mixing with spilled beer, his friends jeering in the background.
The caption—"Beating your enemy at his own ga"—felt like it was aid straight at .
I’d scrolled past it the first ti, thinking it was just another rumor. Then I watched the videos three tis going on the Fourth.
Each replay made my stomach twist harder until I had to drop the phone and press my palms to my eyes to stop the room from spinning.
How could I have been so stupid?
All those weeks of him being sweet—bringing coffee exactly how I liked it, helping to heal, texting good-night like clockwork—had felt real.
He’d looked in the eyes and sworn he’d changed, that the old Maddox was gone.
And I’d believed him. I’d chosen him over Mordred’s warnings, over the quiet voice in my head that kept whispering sothing’s wrong.
I’d let him fool again.My chest ached like soone had reached in and squeezed my heart. I hated how much it hurt. Hated that I’d let myself hope.
Hated that in less than two weeks—on the night I turn nineteen...he’ll be able to claim as his fated mate.
The bond will snap into place whether I want it or not, and a guy who can laugh while tornting soone weaker will have a magical, unbreakable claim on .
I curled forward, forehead against my knees, and finally let the tears co. Hot, silent at first, then louder—ugly sobs that shook my whole body.
I cried for trusting him, for ignoring Mordred, for every mont I’d spent smiling at Maddox like he was my future. I cried because everything around felt like a sick ga: power plays, secrets and anonymous accounts dropping bombs just to watch us burn.
Who even was ShadowExpose? Soone who hated Maddox enough to follow him, to hide a cara, to wait for the perfect mont to destroy him?
Part of was grateful that they’d shown the truth before it was too late. But another part wondered what they really wanted.
Was this about justice for Emily... or sothing bigger? A revenge plot? Were they using Maddox to get to soone else? To get to ?
And then the worst thought hit: what if everything Maddox ever told about Mordred was a lie?
what if this was what Mordred was trying to explain all along? I’m starting to doubt the scene at pearl street, I an how could so stupid...it was obvious that sothing was wrong.
Did he set Mordred up making see him as a bastard? Damnit...I’d believed it. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain, I’d cut him out of my life because of it. But now... now I wasn’t sure what was real anymore.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw stars. "I’m such an idiot," I whispered into the empty room. "This is all my fault."
The tears slowed eventually, leaving hollow and exhausted. I didn’t bother turning on the lights as evening crept in; the dim glow from the string lights around my window was enough.
I just sat there, replaying every mont, every choice I’ve made and began hating myself for all of them.
Ahhh! How can I be so naive? I listened to the predator and allowed myself to hate the one my heart belonged to.
Just as I was lost drowning in my thoughts my doorbell rang suddenly, making flinch.
I wiped my face quickly, hoping whoever it was would go away. But they didn’t, It rang again. Then a soft knock followed by a soft masculine voice.
"Kianna? It’s ."
I recognized it imdiately, Lysander. I exhaled shakily and padded to the door, cracking it open just enough for him to see my puffy eyes and red nose. His easy smile faltered the second he took in.
"Oh, God," he murmured, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation and pulling into a gentle hug. I froze for a second, before finally relaxing into it.
He slled like paint thinner and cinnamon gum—comfort slls. "Have you heard the circulating news on the forum?"
I shook my head against his shoulder. "I already know," I mumbled. "I saw it hours ago."
He guided back to the bed, sat down, and perched beside , rubbing slow circles on my back like he always did when the world felt too heavy.
"I figured. You’ve been ghosting everyone all day, so I asked Lesley for your location."
I sighed, then turned to face him properly.
"I didn’t want to talk about it. I just... needed to be alone with how stupid I feel."
"You’re not stupid," he said firmly. "You’re kind. You wanted to believe people can change...that’s not a flaw."
I gave a wet laugh. "Tell that to my heartbreak."
Lysander bumped my shoulder lightly. "Co on..get up. You’re coming with ."
"I’m really not in the mood to.."
"Shopping," he cut in cheerfully. "I’ve got that big art contest coming up—the one with the scholarship to Art college and I need supplies. Paints, brushes, maybe so new canvas. And I need my favorite muse to help choose colors and styles. I’m completely uninspired without you."
I eyed him suspiciously. "You’re lying. You already have a whole studio full of supplies."
He grinned, unrepentant. "Maybe I do, but I just want to get new ones and I have sothing urgent to see too."
I hesitated. Staying here ant more crying and more spiraling. "Fine," I sighed, grabbing my coat and scarf. "But if you make carry anything heavy, I’m leaving you there."
The cold night air did feel good against my hot cheeks as we walked across campus toward the main street.
Lysander kept up a steady stream of chatter—complaining about his professor, describing the surrealist piece he wanted to submit, asking my opinion on color palettes. I let it wash over , grateful he wasn’t forcing to talk about Maddox.
But when we reached the shopping district, he steered past the art supply store completely.
"Lysander..."
"Change of plans," he announced, looping his arm through mine. "Therapy first, art supplies second."
He dragged into the old cinema on the corner—the one with the faded red curtains and the sticky floors that still showed movies for five bucks.
He bought tickets to so new dumb cody I’d never heard of, plus a giant popcorn and two sodas.
"I hate you," I muttered as we settled into the back row.
"No, you don’t," he whispered, tossing a kernel at . "You love . Now shush, movie’s starting."
And for ninety minutes, I actually laughed. Real, helpless laughs that hurt my sides and made my eyes water for a different reason.
Lysander kept leaning over to make terrible comntary, stealing my popcorn, draping his jacket over my shoulders when I shivered. For a little while, the weight lifted.
When the credits rolled and we stepped out into the chilly night, I felt... not fixed, but lighter.
"Thank you," I said quietly as we lingered by the entrance. "I needed that."
He smiled softly. "Told you. Everything’s going to be..."
"Kianna."
The voice cut through the night like ice water down my spine. I turned slowly.
Maddox stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, face shadowed under the cinema marquee lights.
Even from here I could see the swelling around his nose and the dark bruises blooming across his cheek and lip. He looked like he’d been in a fight and lost.
Lysander stiffened beside , stepping half in front of protectively.
"Kianna, please," Maddox said, voice rough. "Just let explain. It’s not what it looks like. I swear.."
"Save it," Lysander snapped. "She doesn’t want to hear it."
Maddox’s eyes flicked to him, jaw tightening. "This isn’t your business, Lysander."
"It is when you keep hurting her." Lysander’s tone was calm but edged with steel. "Walk away, Maddox."
Maddox ignored him, taking a step closer to , desperation clear in every line of his body. "Kianna, dear, please. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking."
My throat closed up. I wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to ask why he kept doing this—why he kept making feel like I was losing my mind. But the words wouldn’t co.
Lysander’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. "Let’s go," he murmured.
I nodded numbly, letting him pull past Maddox toward the street. I didn’t look back, even when I heard Maddox call my na again, voice cracking.
The cold air hit my face as we walked away, but this ti it didn’t feel cleansing. It felt like the start of sothing worse.
Because no matter how far I ran, in less than two weeks the bond would lock into place.
And I still didn’t know if I’d be bound forever to a monster—or if the real monster was the one trying to tear us apart.
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