Page 26 of Revenge is a Witch

He nods, his expression hardening. "Yeah. She slipped something into my drink. I woke up with this," he gestures to the markings, "and her grinning like she’d won the damn lottery."

I’m stunned. My stomach twists with a mix of disgust and anger. "That’s... that’s messed up."

Sebastian glances at me, his jaw tight. "Welcome to my world." There’s a beat of silence as I process the weight of what he’s just told me. Kyla didn’t just trap him—shetookhim, stole his agency, and forced him to play the role of her perfect vampire boyfriend. The very thought of it makes my skin crawl. And then my mind turns dark, driven by morbid curiosity.

I hesitate, but the question slips out before I can stop myself. "I’m sorry to get personal, but I have to know... how does it feel, you know,fucking witha witch you don’t even want to be around?"

He chuckles, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve crossed a line. But his response takes me by surprise. "When I found out she could command me, the first thing I told her was that if she ever forced me to get close enough, the first thing I’d bite is her jugular." I blink, half-bewildered and half-impressed. He found a way to maintain some control, some piece of himself, despite the bind. The fact that Kyla hasn’t forced him into anything more physical speaks volumes about the threat he posed.

"Wow," I mutter, shaking my head. "That’s... actually kind of badass." He smirks, but there’s no arrogance in it. Just a shared understanding that what he’s dealing with is way beyond anything I could have imagined.

As we pull up to the school, the weight of the conversation lingers in the air between us. I hesitate, my hand on the door handle, but I don’t get out immediately. There’s something about the way Sebastian is looking at me, something deeper than the usual banter we throw at each other. He finally breaks the silence.

"Do you know a way to break binds like this?"

I shake my head, feeling a pang of regret. "No. I don’t. But..." I pause, looking at him with more determination than I thought I had in this moment. "Being told something’s impossible has never stopped me before."

A flicker of something—hope, maybe—crosses his face. "Good to know."

I open the door and step out, but before I close it, I turn back to him, hesitating. "Seb... I’m sorry."

He furrows his brow, confused. "For what?"

"For all the shitty insults I throw your way. I didn’t know you were stuck with Kyla... by accident. Or force."

His smirk returns, though this time it’s softer. "Don’t apologize, Z. I’d be disappointed if you stopped. That would mean you’d lost interest in me."

I roll my eyes—again—but there’s a small, genuine smile tugging at my lips. "Don’t count on that happening."

With a final grin, he takes off, the roar of the Maserati fading into the distance as I watch him disappear into the night. And for the first time, I find myself thinking of Sebastian not just as Kyla’s annoying, smug boyfriend—but as someone trapped, just like me, fighting to get his life back.

Under the Bleachers

Itoss and turn, unable to sleep. My mind keeps replaying the conversation with Sebastian—his binding, the way Kyla trapped him, the marks on his skin. It’s like a constant loop in my head, and every time I try to close my eyes, it just plays again. I should have let it go, or at least let sleep take over, but instead, I find myself sitting up in bed, pulling out my old books from under the mattress, and flipping through the pages.

I need to know more about Binding Hexes. There has to be a way to break them. The thought that Sebastian—of all people—is trapped in a situation like that feels... wrong. He might be infuriating, but no one deserves that.

Hours pass, and I only manage to doze off for a brief moment before I’m jolted awake again. The early morning light filters through the blinds, and my body moves on autopilot through my morning routine. I shower, brush my teeth, and glare at my reflection, wondering how I’m supposed to figure out something that witches far more experienced than me have probably failed at.

I barely notice the clothes I throw on—something dark, naturally—and I skip the red stockings today, feeling too distracted to care. Everything feels like a blur until I hear a knock on my door.

Startled, I jump off my bed, only to trip over the ridiculously long blanket that’s somehow ended up on the floor. I stumble, catching myself just in time, and curse under my breath as I straighten up. By the time I reach the door and swing it open, I’m still a little disheveled.

Standing there, with a perfectly timed smirk on his face, is Derek. "Wow, Zaria. You look a little bland without the stockings."

I blink, trying to process both his words and the fact that it’s Derek at my door. "What are you doing here?"

He glances at his watch. "It’s 10am."

I blink again. "And?"

"You said the next phase of your plan starts at 10am sharp," he reminds me, raising an eyebrow.

I swear under my breath, my mind racing. I glance around my room, completely unprepared. "Crap!"

Without wasting another second, I grab the nearest pair of shoes and shove them on. Locking my door in a hurry, I grab Derek’s arm, dragging him down the hallway as fast as I can.

"Wait—what’s the plan again?" Derek asks, his voice amused but clearly clueless.

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