Page 465 of Rage

As I speak their names, it's as if I'm casting a spell. The air around us seems to crackle with energy, dark and potent. Jaz's eyes glitter dangerously, a predatory smile curving his lips.

"You've done well, little fighter," he murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "You've given us the key to your vengeance."

I shiver, both from the intensity of his gaze and the weight of what we're about to embark on. "What happens now?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jaz reaches out, his calloused fingers tracing the line of my jaw. The touch is electric, sending sparks skittering across my skin. "Now," he says, his voice a low rumble that resonates in my chest, "we plan. We prepare. We become the nightmare they never saw coming."

His words ignite something primal within me, a dark flame that threatens to consume everything in its path. I lean into his touch, craving the strength and certainty he exudes. "How?" I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Jaz's eyes soften, a hint of tenderness breaking through his hardened exterior. "First, we gather information," he explains, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. "We learn their routines, their weaknesses, their darkest secrets. Knowledge is power, little Bee, and we're going to arm ourselves to the teeth."

I nod, drinking in his words like a parched traveler in the desert. The room around us seems to fade away, leaving only Jaz and the promise of retribution hanging between us. Outside, the wind howls, a mournful sound that echoes the turmoil in my soul.

"What then?" I ask, my voice stronger now, fueled by the growing resolve within me.

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Jaz's face, his eyes glinting with dark promise. "Then," he says, leaning in close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin, "we strike. We take everything from them, piece by piece, until they're left with nothing but the knowledge of their own depravity."

His words paint vivid pictures in my mind—Tyler, Marcus, and Ethan brought low, stripped of their arrogance and false bravado. I see them cowering, begging for mercy they don'tdeserve. The images should horrify me, but instead, they fill me with a fierce, terrible joy.

"Will it hurt?" I ask, surprising myself with the eagerness in my voice. "Will they suffer?"

Jaz's smile widens, revealing a flash of white teeth. "Oh yes," he purrs, the words dripping with dark satisfaction. "They'll feel every ounce of pain they inflicted on you, magnified a thousand times over. We'll make sure of that."

A shiver runs down my spine, not entirely from fear. There's something intoxicating about the darkness Jaz offers, a seductive pull that I'm powerless to resist. I find myself leaning closer, drawn into his orbit like a moth to a flame.

His hand slides from my jaw to the nape of my neck, his grip firm but gentle. "Tell me about them," he urges, his words a caress against my skin. "Every detail you can remember. Their habits, their weaknesses, their sins."

I close my eyes, letting the memories wash over me. The lecture hall comes into focus, its tiered seats filled with faceless students. But three faces stand out with cruel clarity, etched into my mind like a brand.

"Tyler," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. "He's always late to class, rushing in with some elaborate excuse. He sits in the back, surrounded by his cronies. They laugh too loud at his jokes, preen under his attention."

Jaz nods, encouraging me to continue. His thumb traces soothing circles at the base of my skull, grounding me in the present even as I delve into the past.

"Marcus," I say, my voice growing stronger. "He's quieter, more calculated. Always has his nose in a book, but his eyes... they wander. I've seen him staring at girls when he thinks no one's looking. There's a hunger in his gaze that makes my skin crawl."

A low growl rumbles in Jaz's chest, his grip tightening slightly. The sound sends a thrill through me, a mix of fear and something darker, more primal.

"And Ethan?" Jaz prompts, his breath hot against my ear.

I shudder, memories of that night threatening to overwhelm me. Jaz's presence anchors me, his steady heartbeat a counterpoint to my racing pulse.

"Ethan's the worst," I whisper, hatred coating my words. "He struts around campus like he owns it. Girls fawn over him, guys want to be him. But there's a cruelty in him, barely hidden beneath the surface. I've seen how he treats people he thinks are beneath him."

As I speak, it's as if a dam has broken. Words pour out of me, a torrent of observations and suspicions I didn't even realize I had. I tell Jaz about Tyler's drug habit, poorly concealed and eagerly indulged. About Marcus's obsession with a freshman girl, his eyes following her with a predatory gleam. About the rumors swirling around Ethan—hushed whispers of other girls who've stumbled away from parties, dazed and confused.

Jaz listens intently, his dark eyes gleaming with each new revelation. His fingers card through my hair, the gentle touch at odds with the violence brewing between us.

"You've done well, little Bee," he murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "This is exactly what we need."

I lean into his touch, craving the comfort and strength he offers. "What's next?" I ask, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.

Jaz's lips curve into a dangerous smile. "Now," he says, his voice low and rich with promise, "we start to build our web. We'll gather more information, create a detailed picture of their lives. And then, when the time is right, we'll begin to dismantle them piece by piece."

A shiver runs down my spine, equal parts fear and anticipation. "How long will it take?" I ask, impatience coloring my words.

Jaz chuckles, the sound dark and velvety. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, little fighter. We can't rush this. It needs to be perfect."

I nod, understanding the wisdom in his words even as frustration burns in my chest. "I want them to suffer," I whisper, surprised by the vehemence in my voice.

---