7 [Eloise's POV]

The gates of Heldon High gleamed like something out of a movie. Iron wrought into elegant patterns, polished so clean they could’ve been mirrors.

Beyond them stretched manicured lawns and a row of buildings that looked more like a college campus than a high school.

It was intimidating, yes. But I wasn’t going to let it show.

Mom would be so disappointed if I did that.

Theo Hecter walked beside me, his posture easy, his blazer unbuttoned, his grin relaxed in a way only someone born into wealth could be.

He’d introduced himself as my “student guide,” assigned to show me around. But in truth, I think he was made to do it. Maybe this was his punishment for something he did.

“You’ll find Heldon… different,” he said as we passed glass walls, ivy-draped pillars, and marble floors that gleamed beneath our shoes. “We have a lot of traditions here. People tend to keep to their circles.”

“Circles, huh?” I asked, raising a brow.

Theo smirked.

“Rich kids don’t exactly make the friendliest crowd. If you have any plans to survive in here for long, then I suggest that you find a circle as soon as you can.”

I already knew that much. Still, hearing it from him made my stomach knot tighter.

But I wasn’t going to let them get to me. Not here. Not ever.

I’d been tossed around enough in life—cheap apartments, trap houses, new schools every seven months, rundown motels with peeling paint, strangers’ stares when they thought they knew my story.

If I’d survived that, I could survive Heldon High.

I could survive anything.

And if anyone thought they could push me around? They were in for a rude awakening.

Theo dropped me off in front of a sleek door marked:

**“Sophomore Class A.”**

“Here we are,” he said. “Good luck.” His grin tilted knowingly, like he was sending me into a lion’s den. “You’ll need it.”

I muttered a quick thanks, then pushed the door open.

The room hushed.

It was almost comical—the way heads turned, eyes tracking me as though I’d just grown two heads. Their gazes weren’t friendly curiosity.

No, they scanned me the way predators did, sizing me up, measuring what kind of prey I was. They were about to find out.

I ignored them. Kept my chin high, shoulders back, and walked in like I owned the place. This was not my first rodeo.

There was an empty desk near the middle, so I dropped my bag on it and sat.

“Get up.”

The voice was smooth, sharp, and female.

I turned my head slowly. Beside me was a blonde girl, her hair curled to perfection, her uniform crisp, her lips painted a soft pink that screamed money and privilege.

“Because?” I asked.

“Because.” She placed her perfectly manicured hands on the table. “You’re on my seat, sooo…” she looked to her left, “…get up and get lost.”

I exhaled slowly, stood, and moved. Not because she told me to, but because it wasn’t worth my first fight here. I tried to tune out the laughter from my new classmates.

I could not blow this. Not yet.

I sat at the next desk. Opened my notebook.

The blonde girl pivoted, her heels clicking, and planted herself right in front of me again.

“Oops,” she said, sugar-coating every syllable. “I actually sit there too.”

This time, the laughter was louder.

This little…

I looked up at her, my eyes narrowing into hers. My voice dropped cold, sharp.

“Listen. I get the whole ‘make the new girl feel small and know her place’ thing.” I pushed my chair back and stood. “Pull this shit again and I’ll floor you. That’s a promise, blondie.”

Her smirk faltered. Just for a second. But it was enough.

The room’s energy shifted, whispers cutting sharper. She hadn’t expected me to bite back.

“Big talk for someone who doesn’t belong here,” she snapped, but her hand curled against her hip tighter than before.

“You look prettier when your lips don’t move.”

Before she could spit fire back, another voice cut through.

Deeper. Stronger.

“You should show some respect.”

The air thickened.

I turned.

She was taller than most of the boys, all lean muscle under the loose fit of her uniform. Her tie hung undone, blazer slung carelessly over her shoulder.

Dark hair, messy but deliberate, framed a face that was all sharp cheekbones and hooded eyes.

Hands shoved into her pockets, stance loose but dangerous—like a wolf who didn’t need to snarl to remind you she could rip your throat out.

And damn if the whole class didn’t shift around her, like gravity bent in her direction. This one carried an aura of confidence and authority.

Theo’s warning echoed in my head.

Sharks.

Yeah. She wasn’t a shark.

She was something bigger.

She took a step closer, gaze steady, and the room went silent.

“You don’t just bark at people on your first day,” she said, voice low but carrying. “You want to survive here? Learn your place and some respect while you’re at it.”

Heat shot through me. Maybe everyone else melted under that kind of presence, but not me.

I squared my shoulders, fists clenching at my sides.

“I shouldn’t bark at people?” I closed the gap between us and we were toe to toe, eye contact unbroken. “Woof, woof, bitch.”

A ripple of gasps. Someone whispered, “She’s dead.”

The girl’s lips curved—almost a smirk, but not quite. More like a promise.

She stepped in until her shadow was falling over me.

“I don’t fight kids,” she murmured. “But I’ll make an exception.”

“Go ahead then,” I snapped, my voice steel. My body leaned forward, ready. “Make my day.”

I’d fought worse than spoiled rich kids.

“AND JUST WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!”

A voice thundered, and all heads spun to the door.