Page 43 of The Pretty Savage

Walking slowly down the hallway, I focused on the photos hanging on the wall, depicting the past generations that went graduated from the Academy. No one smiled, not one single person, and it somehow made me feel happier, better than that fucking picture in the headquarters of The Schatten where we all looked happy, but you could recognize the misery in our eyes. At least they weren't faking it, and if this place wasn't filled with psychopaths that only played nicely because their parents told them they had to, maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad place for people like us.

But I guess you couldn't live in our world if you weren't at least a little bit unhinged.

I turned the corner to the left, leaving the loud murmuring of voices in the grand foyer behind, and felt calmer the moment I stepped inside the ladies’ restroom, feeling the tranquility washing over me with each breath I took. My eyes landed on the mirror inside, just above the sink, and Yolanda was definitely right—I looked like shit.

I felt like shit as well, but seeing my bruised face and bloodshot eye was as shocking as it was this morning. If anything, it only started looking worse as the bruises slowly turned from angry red into a dark blue color, marring the side of my face. I wanted to strangle Adrian for doing this to me, because at least with the other wounds I got from last night I could pretend they weren't there.

But this one made me open to any kind of attack and I knew the moment we started with classes, every one of my sparring partners would go for my face. It was my one visible weak spot, and you didn't have to be a genius to see it was as painful as it looked.

Opening the tap, I let the water run before scooping it up with two hands and bringing it to my face. The icy cold felt like a burn on my bruised face, but it was necessary. I knew there was not much I could do right now, but the questions just kept on piling in my mind and I had no answers.

I also had a feeling I wouldn't be getting answers anytime soon. Dean Jansen wouldn't want to cause a panic on campus, and while most of us were trained killers, there were still those that couldn't defend themselves, like Yolanda. And not to mention those that belonged to the families that would destroy this entire place if anything were to happen to their precious princes and princesses.

And just as the thought appeared, the door behind me opened, revealing the one person I didn't want to see.

My hands landed on top of the sink, keeping myself upright as I followed his movements through the mirror.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I bit out, uncaring how it might sound or that it might piss him off.

Adrian Zylla was one of those princes who had everything he could ever want, and I wasn't about to roll onto my back and show him my belly. He made it clear what he thought of me and my background, so I wasn't going to play nice if he deemed it necessary to seek me out like this.

He stood at the door for a second, unmoving, his face unreadable, while his eyes traced over my bruised face and my trembling form. Time stood still as he slowly approached me, stalking me, his eyes burning with something I couldn't recognize, stopping right behind me.

I expected to see the arrogance in those dark orbs, or at least the satisfaction at the sight of my fucked-up face, but neither one of those appeared. Instead he simply observed me, unnerving me with his movements.

"I asked you a question," I said, hating the breathy undertone of my voice.

My grip on the sink increased when a new thought slammed into my mind.

I wasn't afraid of him. Not like Yolanda and probably most of the other people were. I had nothing to lose and no one to care for if he decided I wasn't good enough to keep on breathing.

No, I wasn't scared that he could hurt me. I was terrified because he could shatter my heart, leaving me in the shards of what could belong to him.

During those moments before he opened his fucking mouth I thought I had recognized a kindred soul. Someone that would maybe understand what I've lived through. But that was before I knew who he was and before he decided to decorate my face with a couple of new bruises.

But while my mind hated him, I couldn't deny the attraction I felt. Even now as he stood behind me, as still as a statue, I couldn't fool myself into thinking this trembling in my body had anything to do with the dead girl or my injuries and not his nearness.

I rarely ever thought about someone I could call my own. Someone that would look at me one day and know I was the one they had been waiting for. Those were dreams reserved for girls with ordinary lives, who thought the worst thing was not getting a new promotion at their job. Dreams had no place in my world, and for a moment last night when Adrian grabbed my hand, I forgot myself.

I forgot where I was and what I was supposed to do. That was the effect he had on me.

So when he started dragging his finger over my fucked-up shoulder, the full-body shudder that went through me had nothing to do with the chilly air surrounding us.

His touch burned, leaving a fiery trail behind as he moved toward my neck, slowly pressing his body to mine. The top of my head barely reached his chin, and I hated how small and unimportant he made me feel. I was fine with the rest of these people thinking I was nothing more than the dirt on their shoes, but with him… Something inside of me wanted him to see me, no matter how fucked up this whole situation was.

He was my enemy.

He was my target, for fuck's sake.

Yet I still wanted him.

The dark circles around his eyes should've made him uglier, or at least a little bit less attractive, but the bastard looked as good as he did yesterday when I saw him on the train, with the traces of a dark beard slowly growing on his face now.

His cold fingers wrapped around my throat, pressing against my pulse point, and I knew he could feel how fast my heart was racing. It thundered against my ribs, bruising me further from the inside out, wanting out of my body because it too knew what kind of damage this man could inflict.

The toxicity of this situation didn't surprise me.

I always went for those with darkness swirling in their eyes, thinking that maybe they would be able to understand the shadows that never left me alone. Maybe that was why I had such a visceral reaction to him on that train, which was something that had never happened to me.

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