*Roanne’s POV*The folder had felt like salvation in my hands, a paper shield crafted by Caleb's digital sword. I settled into the creaking embrace of my desk chair, the dim light of dawn peering through my dorm room blinds.Fingers trembling with something akin to excitement, I peeled back the cover of the folder. The meticulous arrangement of schedules, the crisp printouts outlining my academic life rearranged, danced before my eyes. Each page fluttered like a hesitant heartbeat as I flipped through them, the gravity of what Caleb had done settling deep within my bones."Roanne," the note began, in Caleb's calculated scrawl, "It's done. Sebastian won't be an issue; not in your classes, not on your path. Your classes are now always at the opposite side of campus as his." I imagined him hunched over his computer, lines of code reflecting in his steely gaze—his way of righting wrongs that the justice system failed to address.A hacker's sense of justice, dark and unquestionable. M
*Roanne’s POV*The mahogany shelves of the university library gave me comfort. I admired the knowledge they kept, guarding the hushed secrets whispered between their ancient tomes. I felt the weight of those secrets pressing against my chest as I traced the spine of a leather-bound book, its title embossed in gold, yet faded by time.The Revenge Club had been an intoxicating elixir, seducing me with the promise of justice and empowerment. But I wondered if the tasks escalated, so would the gnawing unease that feasted on my resolve. I wore a masquerade of control, but beneath the mask, doubt danced in the shadows."Ro?" Lizzie's voice sliced through the silence, her eyes probing mine with a mix of concern and camaraderie. "You've been quiet all morning."I glanced up, meeting the gaze of my best friend."Last night with Aaron," I began, the words spilling out in a whisper. "It wasn't just an assignment; it was… intimate, raw." My hands trembled slightly as I closed the book, the
*Roanne’s POV*The clatter of silverware and the murmur of voices created a familiar comfort in the university's dining hall, a backdrop to my own swirling thoughts. I was picking at my salad when Lila slid into the seat opposite me, her eyes wide with the kind of excitement that usually heralded some juicy piece of campus news."Roanne, you won't believe what I read today," Lila said, barely containing her glee as she leaned in closer. The scent of her peach perfume wafted over the table, a sweet note amidst the savory smells of lunchtime fare.I put down my fork, my interest piqued despite myself. "What's the latest scandal then?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light, though part of me dreaded what fresh drama might be unfolding."Okay, so you know Joe Atkins, right? The senior who always brags about his stock portfolio?" She barely waited for my nod before continuing, "Turns out he bought his grades. And he was caught! Can you imagine? He's been suspended."My eyebrows shot
*Roanne’s POV*The elegant suit composed by a pencil skirt and a very silky blouse, hung there, like a second skin, its emerald green hue a promise of lush secrets unfolding beneath. Intricate lace adorned its length, the threadwork an ode to the delicate dance that awaited me at The Velvet Room. Lizzie's deft fingers brushed against my skin as she helped me slip into the silkiness, her presence both comforting and conspiratorial."Roanne, you look..." Lizzie trailed off, her eyes wide with something akin to awe or perhaps envy."Like someone who doesn't belong," I breathed out, my nerves jangling like the fine gold chain I clasped around my neck. This wasn't just fabric draping my body; it was armor, fortifying me for the battle ahead. “Why would they have to dress all like this anyway?”"Stop," Lizzie snapped gently, her tone allowing no room for self-doubt. "You belong wherever you damn please. And just so you know, wearing elegant suits is also like armor, the better you dres
*Roanne’s POV*The lake's glassy surface mirrored the waning light, shards of the dying day dancing across its gentle ripples. Michael and I claimed the secret haven, a secluded table nestled in the corner, nature's whispering embrace encircling us with an intimacy that felt both daring and dangerous."Quite the view," he murmured, his voice a smooth caress against the backdrop of rustling leaves and distant birdsong."Michael," I began, a name now laden with complexities I was only beginning to unravel. "I never imagined—""Shh," he interrupted, a single finger raised to his lips, eyes glinting with mischief. "Let's savor the silence for just a moment longer."Despite the tranquil setting, my skin prickled with an electric current of curiosity about him. As I feigned calm, my gaze betrayed me, flitting around, searching… seeking Aaron. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was still here, lurking in the shadows, watching. But no, there was only absence—a void where his presence
*Aaron’s POV*The Velvet Room loomed before me, its grandeur casting shadows. The street lights flickered, their dim glow. My fingers, steady despite the chill in the air, dialed Blake’s number, the familiar motions setting my pulse on a quicker march."Blake," I barked into the phone as soon as the line connected, my voice cutting through the night's stillness with an edge sharpened by frustration. "I need you to dig up everything you can on Michael Morgan."On the other end, a pause, then Blake's voice, calm, measured, the sound of reliability itself. "Michael Morgan? The rich kid who’s been circling the club?""Exactly him. There's something off about the guy." I paced, restless energy coursing through me. The sleek surface of the club's door reflected a distorted image of my tense form back at me. "I want his dirty laundry, Blake. And I want it yesterday.""Consider it done, Aaron," Blake replied, his assurance slicing through my escalating tension. "I'll get you what you ne
*Roanne’s POV*The throb behind my eyelids was a relentless drum, pounding in sync with the pulse that hammered at my temples. I groaned, an involuntary sound that felt alien to me, as my mind fought to surface from the depths of a murky ocean. My tongue felt swollen, heavy against the dry roof of my mouth."Water..." The word scraped out, barely audible."Here." The voice cut through the fog, and I blinked open my eyes to see Aaron, his silhouette blurred against the stark light filtering through the blinds."Thanks," I rasped, accepting the glass with trembling hands. The liquid coolness was a lifeline as it slid down my parched throat."Slowly," he instructed, a note of command threading his tone—a subtle reminder of the power play always present.I squinted at him, the action pulling at the tender skin around my eyes. He was seated, all casual authority, in a chair that had been dragged close to my bed. His presence was both commanding and incongruous; this room had never p
*Roanne’s POV*It didn’t happen, that is what he wanted me to believe. My body was feverish yet he wanted to forget what he just did.The warmth of his embrace and touch was still a tangible presence around me, when a rap at the door shattered the fragile shield Aaron had shared. He stiffened, and with a last glance at me, he disentangled himself from our tangle of limbs and crossed the room to answer."Blake," he said tersely as he swung the door open. The scent of roasted coffee beans wafted into the room, and there stood Blake, his hands cradling the lifeline of caffeine and pain relief. His solemn nod toward me suggested this was more than a mere courtesy call."Brought what you asked," Blake said to Aaron, holding out the steaming cup and a small bottle of aspirin. Looking beyond him, I saw no traces of the early morning light; the world outside felt as distant as my grasp on the events that led to this moment."Thanks." My voice was a hoarse whisper, but it carried the wei