Page 1 of You're Mine Now

Chapter One

Iwaved goodbye to my Pilates instructor, my smile lingering as I wiped the damp strands of hair clinging to my face. The gym buzzed with its usual rhythm—grunts of effort, the thud of feet on treadmills, the occasional clang of weights returning to their racks.

Then I saw him.

My sneakers squeaked against the floor as I came to an abrupt halt, my smile evaporating faster than the cool air off my skin. Eyes wide, I locked onto a towering figure standing by the punching bags in the corner of the gym—a shadow that didn’t belong in the fluorescent-lit brightness.

Adrian.

The boy who’d made my life hell growing up was now a man, all hard lines and sharp edges. I gripped the strap of my bag tighter, the fabric cutting into my palm.

I thought he was in prison.

I’d heard the rumors—something about nearly killing someone. Yet here he was, casually leaning against the wall between sets, scrolling through his phone. He looked calm, almost bored, but I knew better.Probably planning his next victim, I thought bitterly as nausea twisted in my gut.

Time hadn’t softened him. He looked more intimidating than ever. Probably 6’4”, his broad shoulders stretched his whitetank. He lifted his shirt, revealing waves of solid muscle beneath as he wiped his brow. Tattoos now covered his arms, the ink shifting with every movement.

I ducked behind a squat rack, my pulse pounding as I tried to steady my breath. Panic gripped me, but beneath it, something darker simmered—a feeling I didn’t want to name.

He wasn’t just my high school bully. He was the source of so many complicated feelings I still couldn’t untangle.

He’d transferred to my school as a senior while I was a sophomore. A year of relentless torment that left scars no one could see but that I still carried. Butwhy me?The question haunted me then, just as it did now. Was it because I was easy prey, or had it been something more?

My skin prickled at the memory of his wicked grin the day it all began.

It was early fall, but summer clung stubbornly to the air, its heat shimmering over the field. I sat in the bleachers, sketchpad balanced on my lap, my pencil moving in lazy, absentminded strokes as the football team practiced.

Then he pulled off his shirt.

His body gleamed under the sun, muscles flexing with every motion. Back then, there were no tattoos—just smooth, olive perfection. His dark hair clung to his damp forehead until he raked his fingers through it, sending droplets scattering like sparks in the sunlight.

Of course, I’d heard about him. Everyone had. The star football player who’d been kicked out of his last school. The rumors of fights and drugs that followed him everywhere he went. Even the teachers seemed to tread carefully around him, as if he might explode at any moment.

But he didn’t. Not often, anyway. He didn’t care about fitting in or cracking jokes like the other boys. While they clowned around, he stayed quiet. Detached. He was often surrounded bypeople, but they felt like props, there to fill the empty space. His laugh, when it came, was hollow, his gaze always distant.

The girls didn’t seem to care. They flocked to him like moths to a flame, drawn to the danger he radiated. And I understood it.

But I played it safe. I avoided attention. I wasn’t invisible though—not by a long shot. Boys noticed me. They’d compliment my hair, my curves, if they were feeling bold. They’d tell me to smile more, that my eyes were too pretty to look so sad.

And though I secretly dreamed of meeting my prince charming, their attention always left me feeling unsettled. Their compliments were fleeting, something they could snatch back the moment I didn’t give them what they wanted.

No one at this school’s good enough for you, Scarlett?they’d taunt. But it wasn’t that. I just wanted to feel safe. To feel seen.

I’d watched Adrian a few times before. But that day, I made the mistake of letting my gaze linger.

Even from across the field, his jawline was sharp enough to cut, his eyes piercing as they locked onto mine. When he caught me staring, he didn’t smirk or look away. He shook his head slowly—a deliberate, silent warning that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

And then he smiled.

That dark, hungry grin. Like a thief’s first glimpse of a rare jewel—possessive and tinged with awe.

He came toward me, strolling past with his teammates. He slowed, leaning down just enough for his breath to graze my ear. His voice was gravelly and low, sinking deep into my bones.

“Careful what you wish for, little girl.”

That day was only the beginning—the day I caught his eye.

The letters came next. Slipped into my locker—their words burned into my brain. I used to open them, naively hoping they were from a friend or a secret admirer.

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