The Entrance

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POV: Seraphina

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The iron gates of Blackthorn Academy loomed before me like the jaws of a beast.

Four years. Four years I'd walked through these gates as prey. As nothing. As the girl who made herself small so she wouldn't be eaten alive.

Not anymore.

The morning sun caught my hair. The highlights blazed like fire. Gold. Bold. Everything I wasn't supposed to be.

I stepped through the gates.

And the whispers began.

"Is that Seraphina Blackwood?"

"What happened to her hair?"

"Look at her skirt! It barely covers anything!"

I didn't flinch. I didn't look down. I didn't shrink.

I walked.

My heels clicked against the cobblestone. Click. Click. Click. Each step a declaration. Each step a middle finger to every person who'd made me feel small.

Students parted like the Red Sea. Their eyes followed me. I felt their stares like physical touches—some curious, some cruel, some just shocked.

Vivian stood in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by her usual entourage. She was wearing white. Pristine. Untouchable. The queen of a kingdom built on cruelty.

Her eyes met mine.

For the first time in four years, I didn't look away.

I held her gaze. I walked toward her. And I smiled. A cold, sharp smile that didn't reach my eyes.

She flinched.

Actually flinched.

I almost laughed. The mighty Vivian Voss, rattled by the girl she'd spent four years destroying. What was she afraid of? That I'd fight back? That I'd expose her? That I'd become everything she wasn't?

Good. Let her be afraid.

I passed her without a word. She opened her mouth to speak—to deliver some cutting remark that would have broken me yesterday. But I was already gone. Already past her. Already beyond caring.

"Seraphina!"

Marcus's voice. I kept walking.

"Seraphina, wait!"

He grabbed my arm. His fingers dug into my skin. Familiar. Possessive. The same hands that had touched Vivian.

I stopped.

"Get your hand off me."

My voice was calm. Cold. Deadly.

He let go like I'd burned him. "I just want to talk. You blocked my number. You've been ignoring me. You can't just—"

"Can't just what?" I turned to face him. "Can't just walk away? Can't just decide I'm done being your backup plan? Can't just stop caring about a boy who promised me forever and gave it to someone else?"

His face went pale. Good.

"I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean for me to find out," I finished. "I know. You told me. You were too busy with Vivian to consider how I might feel. But I'm done feeling. I'm done caring. And I'm definitely done with you."

A crowd was gathering. Whispers rippled through the courtyard. Everyone was watching. Everyone was waiting to see what I'd do.

I walked away. Marcus called after me. Vivian's voice joined his, sharp and mocking.

But I didn't care.

I walked toward the center of the courtyard. Toward the statue of the school's icons. The stone figures loomed above me, frozen in eternal judgment.

His surname was carved into the base.

Blackthorn.

I looked up at the statue. Stone eyes stared down at me. Cold. Uncaring.

Just like the boy who shared that name.

Damian Blackthorn. The heir of Family No. 1. The boy everyone feared. The boy who'd never looked at me twice.

I hated him.

No. That wasn't true. I didn't hate him. I resented him. I resented that he existed in a world so far above mine that he didn't even know I was there.

He probably didn't even know my name.

And yet, somehow, that was better. Better than Marcus, who pretended to care. Better than Vivian, who delighted in my pain. Better than the whispers that followed me everywhere.

Damian Blackthorn didn't see me. He didn't mock me. He didn't pretend to love me and then tear me apart.

He just... didn't exist in my world.

And I didn't exist in his.

I climbed the statue. My hands gripped the cold stone. My heels scraped against the marble. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't have a plan. I just knew I couldn't go back.

I couldn't be the girl who shrank from shadows anymore.

I stood at the base of the statue, exposed to everyone. The short skirt barely covered anything. The pantyhose shimmered in the morning light. My highlights blazed like a battle cry.

And the whispers became screams.

"Get down from there!"

"Someone call a teacher!"

"She's lost her mind!"

I laughed. A wild, unhinged sound that tore from my throat. Lost my mind? No. I'd found it. For the first time in four years, I'd found it.

I looked down at the crowd. Marcus. Vivian. All their friends. Teachers running toward me.

And in a dark corner, hidden in the shadows, I saw him.

Damian Blackthorn.

He was watching me.

His ice blue eyes were fixed on my face. There was something in his expression—something I couldn't read. Something that made my stomach flip.

He was here. He was watching.

And for the first time, I didn't want to disappear.

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