Malicious Prince

RHETTBy the time my roommate and I finish unpacking, the faint panic buzzing through the hallways has settled into something quieter- anticipation, maybe. Or dread.Thirty minutes later, we file out into the courtyard again, following the path back toward the main hall.The campus has shifted since earlier. Banners gleam under the muted afternoon light, and long rows of white chairs stretch out across the lawn. A raised stage sits at the far end, flanked by tall marble columns and a flag - bearing the university crest.We’re ushered to a block of seats closer to the back. No one says it out loud, but everyone knows why.Adrian stands near the steps with a clipboard, scanning the crowd like a hawk. Upperclassmen in similar black jackets move around, directing groups with practiced ease.“Scholarship students- back two rows,” one of them calls.I sink into a chair, my fingers drumming against my knee. My roommate -Tj - leans closer and whispers, “Well. At least we have the best view of

RHETT It’s been five minutes.Five whole minutes.And he hasn’t moved.The man in the black mask just stands there - silent, unmoving, like he was carved out of the shadows themselves. The lanterns around him sway with the wind, their light catching on the silver edge of the mask and the faint glint of a tattoo that snakes from his collarbone up his arm.He’s blocking the only path out.I shift my weight, glancing toward the side hedge. Maybe there’s another way through. Maybe if I just-He tilts his head.Slow.Precise.Like he’s reading my thoughts.A cold ripple crawls down my spine.“It’s fine,” I mutter under my breath, adjusting the mask. “Just another spoiled freak show.”I take a step forward. Then another. The crunch of gravel beneath my shoes sounds deafening in the still air.Three steps away.Two.Then his hand shoots out.A gloved palm hits my chest- firm, controlled, commanding.The kind of touch that doesn’t ask, doesn’t warn - just acts.“Hey-” I start, but he pushes

RHETTIt’s warmMom’s voice drifts through the dark, soft and familiar, calling my name the way she used to when dinner was ready.The air smells like sugar and fruit, sweet and bright, like peaches left too long on the counter.“Rhett,” she says again, gentle. Closer.I smile before I even open my eyes.Dad’s laughter follows- low, fond - and I hear him teasing Keith in that half-English, half-something-else way he did when he was happy.“Solnishko,” he says, and Mom laughs, swatting his arm.I want to stay here.I want to turn toward the kitchen, feel the warmth of the oven, steal a slice of peach before Mom catches me.But the warmth fades.The smell changes.Rot replaces sugar. Dampness seeps into my skin. Cold crawls up my spine.It’s dark when I open my eyes.Too dark.I’m not in the kitchen. I’m not home.I’m curled on cardboard, my pyjamas thin and useless against the concrete. My feet ache, numb and stiff. My stomach twists, empty and sharp, and I realize with a sick lurch th

RHETTSantiago ÁlvarezSon of a Spanish- Latino Cartel.Born in Barcelona, raised in Madrid and educated across Europe he grew up as the typical rich playboy.And he was the host of yesterday’s hunt.Making him a possible connection to Lucien’s inner circle.I take a bus back to Ravenwood and head to my dorm preparing for my classes when I find a red box on my bed.I walk over and open it to see there’s a letter on top of something.I lift the letter and see it’s my car keys.Someone brought my car back.I put the box back down open the letter.‘You looked cute when you were sleeping’Blood boils through my veins and I immediately crumple the damn letter before walking out of the room and looking down the hall.The bastard was in my dorm.I’m going to rip his damn cock off when I find out who it is.I slam the door going back into my room, I tear the paper apart dumping it and the stupid box in the trash after taking my keys out.I stuff my bag with books needed for the day and walk o

RHETT “This is sacrilegious” Cole says taking a sip from his gin and tonic.“Tell that to him” I say pointing my half drunken beer towards an almost shirtless Tj.He’s sandwiched between two guys on the dance floor, all the buttons to his shirt are undone. The guy on his front is straddling his thigh, rolling his hips against him, with the other on his back rolling his as well, all following the beat of the drums.Tj- being the lead- has one hand on the guy at his front’s ass while the other hand is half raised holding a glass of margaritaAnd at this point I’m not even surprised to how on earth are they keeping their bodies connected and in sync, grinding against each other like that with that glass still at hand.“I don’t know whether to feel impressed or look away to give them privacy” Cole says returning his gaze back to the bar and taking a drink.“Yeah” I chuckle and turn back to my drink as well.“So” I say putting my beer down “Why aren’t you dancing?”“No, I don’t do that”“