CHAPTER TWO

HADES

The woman looks at me with pity in her eyes, and it makes my skin crawl. I don’t want her pity. Is it a crime not to know how to tie a damn tie? I’ve already got a pounding headache from everything this morning—being uprooted from my old life, shoved into this pretentious school, and now this? A tie? As if the uniform isn’t suffocating enough. Walking through the hallways earlier, surrounded by kids in designer everything, made me feel like an

alien. Now I have to pretend I fit in with them? It’s utter bullshit.

“There. All done,” the woman—Madam Kingsley, I guess—says, stepping back with a smile. She tilts her head slightly, admiring her handiwork like tying a tie was some monumental achievement. “Now you look like a proper Rockwell student.”

Her cheeriness grates on me, but I nod, forcing a tight smile. “Thanks,” I mumble, tugging at the collar of my shirt. The tie feels like a noose, and I can’t help but imagine myself yanking it off the second I leave.

“Now I just need to…” Madam Kingsley starts, but she’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she says brightly.

The door swings open, and the first thing I notice is blonde hair catching the light. My eyes travel upward, and then I see her face.

My heart stumbles.

She’s… stunning. Gorgeous, like one of those girls you’d only see in magazines or on red carpets. Her skin practically glows, her green eyes bright and sharp, framed by thick lashes. Her nose is delicate, perfectly straight, and her lips—plump, blushed, and pouty—are impossible not to stare at. She’s the kind of beautiful that feels unreal, like a work of art you can’t touch but can’t stop looking at.

“And completely out of your league,” a voice in my head reminds me, cold and mocking. I tear my gaze away, my ears burning, and stare at the wall like it suddenly got interesting.

“Good morning. Sorry to interrupt, Madam Kingsley,” she says, her voice soft but confident. It’s like her looks weren’t unfair enough—her voice is perfect, too. Smooth and melodic, the kind of voice you’d want to listen to all day. “I just need my timetable for the school year, please.”

My jaw tightens, and before I can stop myself, I groan softly. The sound escapes before I even register it, a mix of frustration and something I can’t quite name.

Both women turn to look at me, and I freeze. Damn it.

Madam Kingsley raises an eyebrow. “Everything alright, Hades?”

I clear my throat, quickly scrambling for an excuse. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, not used to wearing ties,” I say, tugging at the knot for good measure. “Just… feeling a little suffocated.” The lie slips out easily, and I even manage to look apologetic.

Madam Kingsley softens, nodding in understanding. “Oh, that’s normal. You’ll get used to it soon enough,” she assures me with a kind smile.

The blonde girl—whoever she is—doesn’t say anything, but I feel her eyes on me for a moment longer before turning back to Madam Kingsley. I exhale quietly, wishing the ground would swallow me up already.

“Miss Daniels, welcome to your senior year,” Madam Kingsley says in her usual cheery tone—the one I’ve already decided must be permanently wired into her personality. “This is a new student joining you this year, Hades Giovanni.”

She gestures toward me like she’s presenting a prize, and I shift awkwardly under the weight of her enthusiasm.

The girl—Lara, apparently—turns to me with a warm, confident smile that could probably charm the pants off a statue. “Nice to meet you, Hades. I’m Lara, student body president,” she says, extending her hand.

Of course she’s the student body president. Of course. I shouldn’t even be surprised. She’s the kind of girl who probably aces every class, leads every committee, and somehow still looks flawless doing it.

I glance at her outstretched hand, then reluctantly take it. Her skin is soft, like she’s never lifted anything heavier than a pencil in her life. My mind spirals. How the hell is this girl so perfect? It’s almost annoying.

“Hades,” I say curtly, my tone flat as I shake her hand. I pull back quickly, acting like I couldn’t care less about her or her perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect everything.

Madam Kingsley claps her hands, oblivious to the tension simmering in the room—or maybe just ignoring it. “Great! Lara, since you’re student body president, I’d like you to show Hades around campus today. Help him settle in.”

My stomach sinks at her words, but Lara’s smile widens, unfazed. “Of course, Madam Kingsley. I’d be happy to.” She turns to me, her eyes sparkling like this is the highlight of her day. “Don’t worry, Hades. By the end of the day, you’ll know Rockwell like the back of your hand.”

I resist the urge to groan out loud. This day just keeps getting better and better.

“No,” I say abruptly, my voice sharper than I intended. Both Madam Kingsley and Lara blink at me in surprise, but I press on, determined to hold my ground. “I don’t need anyone to show me around. I’ll be fine on my own.”

The words tumble out quickly, but inside, my heart is pounding like a drumline. I can’t let this girl be anywhere near me. Not for an hour, not for a minute. Everything about her—her perfect smile, her confident presence, her maddeningly kind demeanor—sets off alarms in my head.

She’s the kind of person who draws attention effortlessly, like a flame pulling in moths. And me? I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid attention. I can’t be around someone who seems to be the spotlight.

Lara tilts her head slightly, her expression curious but not offended. Her green eyes flicker with something I can’t quite read, like she’s trying to figure me out.

“Well, if you’re sure,” she says after a beat, her tone calm and even. “But if you change your mind, just let me know.”

Even her response is perfect. No irritation, no snark—just calm, collected professionalism. Of course.

Madam Kingsley looks between the two of us, a flicker of disapproval crossing her face, but she doesn’t press the issue. “Alright, Hades, if you’re comfortable navigating on your own, that’s fine. But remember, Lara is here to help if you need it.”

I nod quickly, grateful that no one’s forcing the issue further. “Thanks,” I mutter, stepping back slightly to put some distance between me and the two of them.

As they return to their conversation, I exhale slowly, trying to calm my racing pulse. Avoiding Lara Daniels is officially priority number one. Because something about her feels dangerous—not in a bad way, but in the kind of way that makes you want to get too close. And I can’t let that happen.