When she arrived, she knocked once. The door flew open, and Darkwood yanked her inside.
It happened again. Afterward, she staggered to the bathroom, her hands trembling violently as she scrubbed at her skin, again and again, until it was red and raw. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wash away the sha.
Then the door creaked open behind her. June jumped, heart in her throat.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” she scread. “Get out!”
Darkwood leaned against the doorfra with a lecherous smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind a few minutes ago.”
“Get out!” she shouted, her voice breaking with rage.
He chuckled and finally backed away, tossing a robe toward her like a joke. “Relax. I’m done with you—for now.”
The second he left, June collapsed to the floor. Her sobs echoed off the tiles.
She wrapped her arms around her legs, nails digging deep into her thighs until they bled. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing did—except the poison slowly flooding her heart.
Hate. It consud her.
The next morning, June dragged herself to school. She looked like a ghost—pale, hollow-eyed, lifeless.
Even Lyra, oblivious as she usually was, noticed sothing was off. She leaned over, her brow creased. “June… are you okay? You look awful.”
June stared at her for a second—then broke down. Tears stread down her face as she collapsed onto the desk.
“June!” Lyra panicked, hovering by her side. “What happened? What’s going on?”
But June didn’t answer. She cried and cried, her heart torn in pieces, her soul unraveling.
She wanted to scream, to tell soone, anyone, the truth. But how could she? If William knew she had been used, defiled—he would never even look at her again. He already hated her.
And he loved Clarissa now. Clarissa, who had everything handed to her. Who was adored. Wanted. Perfect.
By the ti the tears stopped, Lyra was still there, watching with wide, concerned eyes.
June gave her a weak smile, eyes still damp. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just so stuff going on at ho. I’ll handle it. And that bitch... Clarissa hasn’t been bothering you, has she?”
“Not recently,” she added "I think my sister has forgiven in her heart. Next ti I must find a chance to thank her for helping and Dorian."
June murmured. “Guess she found soone else to target.”
“What?” Lyra tilted her head. “What did you say?”
“Nothing,” June replied, smile still plastered on her face. “I’m just glad you’re doing okay.”
After school, Lyra stopped her again. She pressed a slim bank card into June’s hand. “Take this.”
June blinked in confusion. “What is it?”
Lyra smiled, sincere and bright. “It’s the pocket money I’ve been saving. There’s a few thousand dollars on it, maybe more. Use it if you need to. You always help —now it’s my turn.”
June’s eyes welled again. But this ti, the tears were bitter. “Thank you… I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“No rush,” Lyra said, giving her a warm hug. “Just promise you’ll tell if you ever need anything. We’re friends, right?”
Friends.
June held the card tightly in her hand, and as she buried her face in Lyra’s shoulder, a sharp glint flickered in her eye.
Don’t worry, Lyra. Very soon… Clarissa won’t be in your way anymore. She won’t have the chance to steal your inheritance. Or Dorian.
After they finished, June lay in Darkwood’s arms, skin still warm with sweat, the room heavy with the scent of sex and smoke.
Darkwood rested one arm lazily around her shoulders, the other hand holding a cigarette as he stared at the ceiling.
"You were obedient tonight," he said, exhaling a slow drag.
June’s voice was flat. “Would resisting have changed anything?”
Darkwood chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. “Of course it would’ve. I like a little fight sotis.”
He stood up and pulled on his pants, zipping them up with a swift motion. Then he turned toward her and jerked his chin. “You don’t need to co tomorrow.”
June’s eyes flickered with surprise. Her fingers tightened around the clothes bunched in her lap. “What? Found soone new already?”
“Not yet,” he said with a shrug, reaching for his belt. “But I’m tired of your body. Had my fill.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he snapped his fingers in the air. Two n appeared from the other room like they’d been waiting—eager, eyes gleaming with sick anticipation.
June’s heart dropped. She scrambled back, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her voice cracked with panic. “You said you’d let go!”
Darkwood scoffed, lighting another cigarette. “I will. But my brothers haven’t had their turn. After tonight, you’re free.”
Liar. Her breath caught in her throat. Her skin went cold.
She knew better than to believe a word he said. “I can get you soone better,” she blurted. “Top-tier. A real prize. Just let go tonight.”
Darkwood paused, amused. “Oh yeah? Who?”
June snatched her phone and pulled up a photo. It didn’t take long—Clarissa’s face was everywhere: beauty contests, student posters, her photo still front and center on the campus hopage.
She handed the phone to him with shaking hands.
Darkwood whistled low. “Well, well…”
“You interested?” June said, voice trembling but sharp. “She’s a ten—way better than .”
He studied the photo more closely. “She’s hot, I’ll give you that. But she’s Lancaster blood, isn’t she? That family’s not soone I ss with.”
“I wouldn’t bring her up if she was still part of that family,” June said quickly. Her lips curled into a smile. “Clarissa’s just a bastard now. They cut her off. She’s on her own—no money, no backup. You can do whatever you want with her.”
Darkwood raised an eyebrow. “Why should I believe you?”
“Go check. I’ll take you to where she lives—it’s a low-inco neighborhood. Think soone from the Lancaster line would live like that?”
He looked back down at the image. Clarissa’s beauty practically radiated off the screen.
He was tempted now—truly tempted.
“…Alright,” he said finally, tossing the phone back to her. “I’ll bite. One chance. Bring her to . And get the hell out.”
June exhaled, relief pouring out of her like a wave. She wrapped herself in her clothes and moved toward the door.
But before stepping out, she turned her face slightly—just enough to hide the smile creeping in.
.....
Clarissa had signed up for the sprint and high jump events, which ant waking up around seven on weekend mornings for training. She’d jog for half an hour before breakfast, alone at first—but she got bored pretty quickly.
So, she started dragging Atticus along.
He’d grown a lot stronger lately—his build more defined, more masculine—and Clarissa could barely keep up. Within five minutes, she was winded, struggling to match his pace, while he ran beside her effortlessly, like it cost him nothing.
Then, as if sensing her exhaustion, Atticus slowed and ca to a stop.
Clarissa was still debating how to say she needed a break when she saw him pause and plant his feet.
She exhaled in relief. “Why’d you stop? You tired?”
“Yeah,” he replied, brushing the back of his hand across his forehead. “Let’s rest a bit.”
“Perfect,” she said, practically running to the nearest convenience stand to grab a couple bottles of water. She poured one into a paper cup and offered it to him.
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