Page 38 of The Cruel Heir
Her dark eyes locked onto mine and, for a split second, there it was, that fire. The one that had dimmed over the last year, but not enough. Not for me.
"Move," she spat out like venom.
That fucking mouth.
She had always been like this. Even before. Even when she had everything, she challenged me. She was the only one whodid, and it made me want to break her, just to see what she looked like without it.
I reached for a curl, twisting it between my fingers, watching the way it bounced back into place. She slapped my hand away, quick.
Soft. She was still so soft.
"Not even a 'hi, Sterling'?" I smirked, tilting my head as I studied her. "You wound me."
Her expression didn’t change, but I saw it in the way she stood. The tension in her shoulders. The careful way she held herself. She was holding back.
"God, you're predictable," I muttered, shaking my head. "Always trying so hard to act like you're better than us. Like you're not one of us."
Because she still thought she could choose.
Still thought she could keep one foot in both worlds - the one she was losing, and the one that was waiting to devour her whole.
"You're not, you know," I said, voice dropping. "You’re just a girl playing pretend. Trying to walk between worlds, but we all know how this story ends."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, but her face was too smooth. Too careful. She thought I didn’t see through her. She thought she could win this round by not reacting.
"Let me go, Sterling."
Controlled. Fake. She was tired. Of me. Of everything.
I should have cared. Maybe I did. But not enough to let her walk away. Not enough to let her keep ignoring me.
I leaned in, my voice low. "Say please."
I wanted to hear her break. To see her crack open and lose. To prove that, no matter how much she ignored me, I was still in her head. But she didn’t give me anything.
She just stood there. She would not beg. Not even for me.
I sighed, stepping back. "Fine. Be a brat about it. I was just trying to be nice."
And just when she thought I was done, just when she moved to take a step forward, I angled my foot behind her knees. She buckled and crashed to the ground, books flying, papers scattering. The sound of laughter filled the hallway.
Not from me. I didn’t laugh. I just watched. One of her books slid close to my shoe, and I nudged it further out of her reach with a lazy tap. She stayed there for a second, hands pressed against the cold tile, before she pushed herself up.
Slow. Steady. She said nothing. Didn’t look at me. Didn’t even react. She just reached for her books, ignoring me. Ignoring me like she hadn’t just hit the floor. Like she hadn’t just lost. That should have been a victory, but it didn’t feel like one.
I crouched down beside her, lowering my voice so only she could hear. "Oops. Clumsy, aren’t you, little hummingbird?"
I waited. Waited for her to snap, to fight. But she didn’t. She just picked up her books. Brushed herself off. And walked away. Like I was nothing. Like this moment meant nothing.
My jaw clenched as I watched her disappear into the crowd, shoulders squared, chin lifted, like she was still untouchable. She wasn’t. She could pretend all she wanted, but I knew the truth.
I knew her. And she would never escape me.
"You’ll never outrun me, baby girl," I said, low and lethal. "You should stop trying."
She didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. But I knew she heard me. And that was enough.
For now.
