Chapter 14

Ariana

The whispers followed me like a shadow.

Every step I took through the hallway, heads turned. Eyes widened. Voices dropped to hushed murmurs. The gym incident had spread like wildfire, and now everyone knew exactly what happened to Davis and his little side piece.

Good. Let them talk. I'm still yet to talk to my friends about what really went down 

I was still riding the high from that moment—the look on Davis's face when Brit punched him, the way Sandra shrunk back when Matt got in her face, the satisfying sound of their footsteps as they fled like cowards. I hadn't felt this powerful in days.

But then I turned the corner and saw him.

Tristan Hales. Leaning against my locker like he owned it. Like he owned me.

My stride didn't falter. I wasn't about to let him see me hesitate.

"Well, well," I said, stopping a few feet away. "If it isn't my favorite stalker. Should I get a restraining order, or are you just naturally this obsessed?"

Tristan didn't laugh. He didn't even smirk.

That was... new.

"I heard what happened in the gym," he said, his voice lacking its usual teasing edge. "You actually impressed me."

I blinked. That wasn't the response I was expecting. "Impressed you? I didn't realize I needed your approval."

"You don't." He pushed off the locker, stepping closer. "But I figured you'd want to know that Davis has been walking around looking like a kicked puppy all day. Word is, he can't even look at Sandra without flinching. Whatever you and your siblings did—it worked."

I crossed my arms, studying him. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he said quickly. Too quickly. "I just... figured you deserved to know."

Something in his voice made me pause. There was no sarcasm. No hidden jab. Just... honesty.

And I didn't know what to do with that.

"So what, you came all the way here to give me a report on my ex-boyfriend's emotional state? That's cute. But I don't need a spy."

"I wasn't spying."

"Then what were you doing?"

He stepped closer again. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. Close enough that I could smell whatever cologne he was wearing.

"I was checking on you."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and unfamiliar.

I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic—something to deflect, to push him away like I did with everyone else. But the words wouldn't come. Because for the first time in days, someone was looking at me like they actually saw me. Not the mask. Not the performance. Just... me.

"Why?" I finally asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Tristan shrugged, but there was nothing casual about the way his jaw tightened. "Maybe I know what it's like to have someone make you feel like you're not enough. Maybe I know what it's like to have to prove everyone wrong."

I stared at him, completely caught off guard. This wasn't the arrogant, infuriating Tristan I knew. This was someone else. Someone who had walls just as high as mine.

"Who made you feel that way?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes darkened. "That's a conversation for another day."

And just like that, the walls were back up.

"Typical," I muttered. "You want me to open up, but you won't even—"

"I didn't say I wouldn't tell you." He cut me off, his voice low. "I said another day. There's a difference."

I raised an eyebrow. "So there's going to be another day?"

Something flickered in his eyes. A challenge. A promise. "That depends on you."

I scoffed, but there was no heat behind it. "You're impossible."

"And you're infuriating." A ghost of a smirk finally tugged at his lips. "So I guess we're even."

For a moment, we just stood there. Two people who had spent so long pretending to be something they weren't, finally seeing each other.

"Look," I said, breaking the silence. "I don't know what this is, or what you want from me. But if you're trying to get under my skin, it's not going to work."

"Who said I was trying to get under your skin?"

"Then what are you trying to do?"

He held my gaze. "I'm trying to figure out if you're as tough as you pretend to be."

I laughed—a real laugh, not the sarcastic one I usually used. "I'm not pretending."

"Prove it."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"

Tristan leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath against my ear. "Tonight. The Dungeon. Come see what I'm really about—and bring your big sister."

I pulled back, my heart pounding for reasons I refused to acknowledge. "What's in the Dungeon?"

"Something that'll show you whether you're really The Reaper's Angel—or just a girl with a reputation." He smirked, stepping back. "But fair warning—once you see what's down there, there's no going back."

And with that, he walked away.

Leaving me standing there, completely speechless.

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A/N

Tristan invited her to The Dungeon. 👀 What is it? A fight club? Something darker? And why does he want Brit there too?

Let me know your theories in the comments! And don't forget to vote! 🖤

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