Page 133 of The Wrong Play

I knew what this was.

He wasn’t talking about history.

He was talking aboutus.

He was talking aboutme.

“In the end, history does not remember those who hesitate. Those who cower, who run. No, history remembers the ones who act. The ones who do whatever it takes to ensure that what belongs to them…” He paused, his eyes coming back to mine. “Stays with them.”

The air around me turned suffocating. I wanted to run.

Ineededto run.

But I couldn’t.

I was stuck, trapped beneath the weight of his words, of his eyes, of the knowledge that he was standing here, right in front of me, and there was nowhere to hide.

He had found me.

He wasnevergoing to let me go.

The class murmured in interest, some nodding in agreement, completely oblivious to the deeper meanings in his words.

“Some people…” He went on, tone casual, almost conversational. “Think they can escape their past. They think they can rewrite their own story. But history…well. History has a way of catching up to you. Doesn’t it?”

A few students shifted, glancing around like they sensed the tension but couldn’t place it.

He turned, slowly pacing, his voice dipping lower. “And in the end, the only thing that matters is this—who is willing to do whatever it takes to win?”

He stopped and looked at me.

“Because those are the ones who always do.”

A memory flashed through my head.

His fingers tightened around my throat.

I gasped,my nails clawing at his wrist,but his grip only tightened—cutting off the little air I had left.

“Shh,”Callum murmured,smiling down at me.Like this was normal.Like this was just another lesson in how to please him.

Like it didn’t feel like he was killing me.

My vision blurred at the edges.Tears spilled down my cheeks.I tried to shake my head,to get some air,but he just tilted his head,watching me like I was fascinating.

His other hand cupped my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek as he pressed me into the mattress.“Look at you,”he mused,voice dripping with amusement. “So desperate.”

I choked.My body convulsed,instinct screaming at me to fight.

But I didn’t.

Because I had learned by then.

Fighting only made him squeeze harder.

I forced my body to go still,forced myself to surrender.

And just like that,he loosened his grip.

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