1- A World Divided

I could feel their eyes on me, even as I crossed the courtyard, pretending I didn’t notice the whispers. It wasn’t anything new. I was used to it—the stares, the occasional shove, the hushed comments that followed me like a shadow. Being an outsider in my own home had become second nature, but it still stung, no matter how much I tried to ignore it.

“Hey, freak,” a voice called from behind, sharp and familiar. I froze, gripping my books a little tighter, but didn’t turn around. Not today. Not again.

“You deaf, Carter?” That voice. Brady Thompson. Of course it was him. I forced myself to keep walking, each step heavier than the last.

“Hey!” His hand clamped onto my shoulder, and I winced, my heart hammering against my ribs. He spun me around, the hard edge of his smirk slicing through the crowd that had started to gather.

“Didn’t you hear me, or are you too stupid to know when someone’s talking to you?”

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze, even though my knees felt like they’d buckle any second. “What do you want, Brady?”

He sneered, taking a step closer, his breath warm and sour against my face. “Just being friendly, Elena. Isn’t that what you wanted? Friends?” He shoved my books out of my hands, and they scattered across the ground, pages fluttering.

The crowd around us shifted, a few laughs breaking out, but no one did anything. Typical. The hallway might as well have been empty.

I swallowed, bending down to gather the books, refusing to meet his eyes again. If I could just get through this, get home, maybe—

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.” Brady’s foot swung out, kicking one of my notebooks across the floor. I clenched my jaw, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Say something, freak. You’re always so quiet.”

“Just leave me alone,” I muttered, standing up. My voice was shaking, betraying me. I hated that.

“What was that?” He leaned in again, mock cupping his ear. “Couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I said leave her alone, Brady.”

The voice cut through the tension like a knife, calm but commanding. I looked up, surprised to see *her*. Jasmine. She stood there with her arms crossed, expression hard, her eyes never leaving Brady’s face.

Brady laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Jasmine, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m making it my concern,” she said, stepping forward. Her gaze flicked to me for a second before locking back on him. “Pick on someone else for a change.”

For a moment, Brady didn’t move, his smirk faltering as he glanced at the crowd that had stopped watching us and was now watching him. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he shrugged. “Whatever. Freaks gotta stick together, right?”

He walked away, and the crowd slowly dissolved with him, leaving only me and Jasmine standing in the now quiet hallway.

I bent down to grab the last of my books, tucking them under my arm as I straightened up. “You didn’t have to do that,” I said quietly.

“I know,” Jasmine replied, brushing a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “But someone needed to.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. I wasn’t used to people standing up for me. Not even at home.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now.

“Yeah,” I nodded quickly, brushing the dirt from my jeans. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“You sure? I’ve seen the way he treats you. He’s an asshole.”

“I’m used to it,” I muttered, hoping she wouldn’t press further. Talking about it only made it worse.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to be,” she said, and I could hear the frustration in her tone. “Look, if he messes with you again, just find me, okay? You don’t need to deal with his crap alone.”

I looked up, meeting her eyes. There was something genuine in her expression, something I wasn’t used to seeing from anyone at school. I wasn’t sure if I trusted it, but I nodded anyway. “Thanks, Jasmine.”

She gave me a small smile, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. “See you around, Elena.”

I watched her walk away, feeling a strange warmth settle in my chest. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I glanced at my watch, realizing I had barely ten minutes to get to my next class. Crap. I hurried down the hallway, pushing everything else out of my mind.

Later that evening, as I stepped through the front door of my house, the familiar cold silence greeted me. It was always like this. Quiet. Distant. Empty, even when they were home. My adoptive parents never said much, and when they did, it was usually sharp, impatient, as if they were just waiting for me to mess up.

“Elena,” my mother’s voice called from the kitchen, sharp as a blade. “Where have you been?”

I hesitated for a second before answering. “At school.”

“Late again,” she said, appearing in the doorway, her arms crossed. “I’m not running a hotel here.”

I bit the inside of my mouth. it's always some comment, some way to remind me that I didn’t belong. That I was tolerated, but never truly wanted. I kept my head down, trying not to meet her gaze as I set my bag by the door.

“Sorry,” I muttered, knowing it wouldn’t matter.

She clicked her tongue in disapproval, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it? You think just because we took you in, you can come and go as you please?”

I swallowed the knot forming in my throat and forced myself to stay still, even though I could feel the familiar burn of tears at the back of my eyes. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of her.

“No,” I said quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

She sniffed, seemingly satisfied with my answer, though she continued to stand there, watching me like a hawk, waiting for some other excuse to lash out. When none came, she turned sharply on her heel and disappeared back into the kitchen.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and slipped quietly up the stairs to my room. It was the only place in the house that felt like mine, though even here, it was bare—just a bed, a small desk, and a window that overlooked the backyard. I dropped my books on the desk and sank onto the bed, my hands trembling slightly as the events of the day finally caught up with me.

Brady. Jasmine. My mom. It all churned inside me, a whirlpool of frustration and fear. I hated feeling so weak, so helpless. But what could I do? No one cared. Not my parents, not the kids at school. Except maybe Jasmine, and even then, I wasn’t sure. Why would she help me? What did she stand to gain?

I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes and trying to block out the endless questions. Tomorrow would be the same. It always was. The same faces, the same insults, the same gnawing feeling of not belonging.

But I’d survive. I always did.

---

The next day passed in a blur of classes and half-hearted conversations. Jasmine had nodded at me once in the hallway, but we hadn’t spoken. Part of me was relieved. I wasn’t ready to open up to anyone yet, not even someone as kind as her.

By the time the last bell rang, I was ready to go home and hide in my room for the rest of the evening. But as I left the school, I noticed something strange—a black car, parked across the street, its windows tinted. My stomach twisted uneasily, and I tried to shake it off. It’s probably nothing, I told myself. Just someone picking up their kid.

I kept walking, clutching my bag tighter, but the sense of unease lingered. I glanced back once more, just in time to see a man step out of the car. He was tall, dressed in a sleek black suit, his face shadowed beneath a pair of dark sunglasses. Something about him felt… wrong.

I quickened my pace, my heart thudding in my chest as I turned the corner, heading toward the main road. But as I walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I forced myself not to look back again.

Don’t panic. Just get home.

But then, as I reached the intersection, a large black hand suddenly clamped down on my arm, yanking me back with terrifying force. I gasped, spinning around to find the man from the car standing over me, his expression cold and unreadable.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

I tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. Panic surged through me, and I struggled against him, but it was useless. He was too strong.

“Let go of me!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “Help! Somebody—”

A gloved hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my scream, and within seconds, he had me pulled toward the car. My heart pounded in my ears as I kicked and thrashed, desperately trying to break free, but there was no escaping him. The back door of the car opened, and I was shoved inside, landing hard against the leather seats.

“Quiet,” the man ordered, slamming the door behind me.

I scrambled up, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I glanced around the dimly lit interior of the car. But before I could react, the driver’s side door opened, and another figure slid in—the man I had only heard about in hushed rumors.

*Dante Ricci.*

He didn’t look at me as he adjusted his suit, his expression calm, almost bored. But there was something about the way he moved, the quiet, lethal energy that surrounded him, that made the air in the car feel thick and suffocating.

“Drive,” he said coldly to the man in the front seat, who immediately obeyed, pulling the car away from the curb with a smooth, practiced motion.

I stared at him, my pulse racing, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “W-What do you want with me?” I managed to stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dante turned his head slightly, his dark eyes finally locking onto mine. There was no warmth in them, no trace of mercy. Just cold calculation.

“You were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said simply, his voice low and dangerous. “And now, you’re a problem I need to solve.”

My heart stopped.

“I-I won’t say anything,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “I swear, I didn’t see anything—”

“That’s not how this works.” His gaze remained steady, unwavering, as if my words didn’t matter.

I felt the weight of those words settle in my chest, the cold realization that there was no getting out of this. No begging or pleading would change his mind.

Dante leaned back in his seat, his eyes still on me. “Now sit still,” he ordered, his voice as sharp as ice. “Because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

And for the first time in my life, I knew what it was to be truly terrified.