The wrought-iron gates of the elite academy towered over them, flanked by stone pillars and a pristine security booth.
Dasia stopped on the sidewalk. She pulled her hand away from Landon's shoulder and shoved it deep into her hoodie pocket. She tilted her chin toward the entrance.
"Go," she said simply.
Landon opened his mouth to thank her, but a loud burst of laughter interrupted him.
Five boys wearing tailored blazers strolled out of the campus gates, blocking the sidewalk.
Dasia's eyes swept over them lazily, but then her gaze locked onto the boy in the center. Her pupils contracted to pinpricks.
Declan Hayes.
He was the substitute player for Glory. The one who had orchestrated the trap in the game that ruined Gerald's reputation. The one who smiled while Gerald's hand was crushed.
The blood in Dasia's veins turned to liquid fire. Her heart slammed against her ribs, but she clamped her jaw shut, forcing the murderous rage down into the pit of her stomach. Her face remained a mask of dead calm.
Declan stopped laughing. He stared at Dasia, his eyes widening in recognition. Then, a nasty, arrogant smirk spread across his face.
He pushed past his friends and strutted right up to Dasia, looking her up and down with exaggerated disgust.
"Well, well, well," Declan announced, his voice loud enough to draw stares from passing students. "If it isn't Gerald. The useless dog who got kicked out of Glory."
Landon gasped. He shrank behind Dasia's legs, terrified by the sudden malice.
Dasia stood perfectly still. She didn't blink. She didn't breathe faster. She just stared at Declan like he was a corpse.
Declan hated that look. He expected Gerald to cower, to look away in shame like he always did.
Declan raised his hand and aggressively poked Dasia's shoulder. "What's the matter? Hand too crippled to play, so now you're babysitting rich kids for lunch money?"
The second Declan's finger touched her hoodie, Dasia moved.
Her left hand snapped up faster than a striking snake. She grabbed Declan's extended index finger and bent it backward with brutal force.
A sickening pop echoed in the quiet street.
Declan shrieked. His knees buckled from the blinding pain, dropping him toward the pavement.
Dasia didn't let him fall. Her right hand shot out and grabbed the knot of his expensive silk tie. She yanked upward, lifting him off his feet.
With a violent shove, she slammed Declan's back against the rough brick wall of the gate pillar. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs with a heavy thud.
Declan's friends yelled and stepped forward to help.
Dasia slowly turned her head. She shot them a look so dark, so filled with pure, unhinged violence, that all four boys froze in their tracks.
She turned back to Declan. She leaned in close. The shadow of her hood fell over his face.
"Touch me again," Dasia whispered, her voice a raspy, demonic scrape, "and I will break every single finger on your hand."
Declan stared into her pitch-black eyes. He couldn't breathe. The tie was strangling him, but the sheer terror paralyzing his heart was worse. This wasn't the weak, compromising Gerald he knew. This was a monster.
Dasia released his tie. She wiped her fingers on her jeans, her face twisting with revulsion.
Declan slid down the brick wall, coughing violently and clutching his throat.
A crowd of students had gathered. Smartphones were out, camera flashes blinking as they recorded the aftermath.
Dasia ignored the cameras. She looked down at Landon, her voice instantly returning to a calm, flat tone. "Let's go find your brother."
Landon swallowed hard. He nodded frantically, grabbed the edge of her hoodie, and pulled her through the gates.
Behind them, Declan finally caught his breath. Humiliated and furious, he screamed at her retreating back.
"You think you're tough? !" Declan roared. "You're just a pathetic loser! What, did you come here to beg one of our rich students for a handout because Glory kicked you to the curb, you disgusting creep? !"
Dasia's boots paused for a fraction of a second at the name "King."
She didn't turn around. She pulled her hood down lower and walked deeper into the enemy territory.
