his fists, and roars. My stomach tightens and goosebumps race across my skin in response to the pained sound. I can hear his agony and anger, his fear and denial. All of it is as clear as it would’ve been if he had put words to his dissonant music.
I ache to comfort him—not because I suddenly like him or anything, but because my pain recognizes his. My soul calls to his, a cacophony of noise disrupting the tranquility of this room. It’s almost as if we’re connected, as if our shared traumas have brought us together in a way nothing else can.
But maybe that’s just my own delusions, my own wistful dreams of peaceful harmony, because in the next second, Cassian shoves me out of the way and storms from the room.
It’s like a string snapping on my violin, stalling the music once and for all. Silence reigns as I stare after his broad back.
Maybe in time, he’ll realize that telling the principal the truth about him and Mrs. Town was the one selfless thing I’ve done since I arrived at this godforsaken town. I don’t necessarily want him to forgive me—it would make obtaining my revenge that much harder—but I can’t stand this animosity saturating the air.
And maybe it makes me all kinds of fucked up, but I can now mark Cassian’s name off of my list, alongside Karsyn’s.
His dreams are crushed, his chances of getting into Julliard slim to none. His reputation hasn’t been tarnished, but that’s okay. I think he’s self-destructive enough to do the work for me.
The great and mighty Cassian has fallen. And though it’s much quieter than I would’ve wanted it to be, it still feels pretty damn good.
At least, it should feel pretty damn good, but I don’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. I rub a hand over my heart, as if that could somehow fill the gaping hole present. But I don’t think anything I do will abate the lingering pain that remains.
You got your revenge, Peony. This is what you wanted. This is what you needed.
My resolves begin to harden as my hands ball into fists by my sides.
Hell has a new ruler. Better watch out.
I’m coming for you all.
Chapter 32
The entire confrontation with Cassian makes me feel icky and gross. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, one that no amount of water can completely eradicate.
He seemed so fucking angry. Was that anger still directed at me and what I did? Or was it for what I told him about Mr. Gurrel?
And more than that, he seemed hurt, as if I betrayed his trust by going to the principal.
But I also swear I saw relief in his brown gaze, though those other emotions masked it.
My heart races in tandem to my thoughts as I hurry to my first hour, arriving a few minutes after the bell rings. When I enter, all eyes in the room flicker towards me, and I blush under their scrutiny. Emmett waves at me cheekily, while Mariabella looks on in concern. And there, looking like a regal king on his throne, sits Lucas. Today, he wears a soft, cashmere gray sweater with a white collared shirt underneath it. His blue jeans have been ironed, not a wrinkle in sight, and conform to his muscular legs in a way that should be illegal.
Like, hello? Your legs are distracting me, dammit. You should change your clothes.
It’s the equivalent of bra straps for girls.
“You’re late, Peony,” Ms. Auperlee reprimands, reaching into her drawer and grabbing a detention slip.
“She’s fine,” Lucas cuts in. “She had to help me with something before class.” His eyes dare Ms. Auperlee to contradict him, to punish me, and her cheeks turn scarlet as she drops the slip of paper back into the top drawer of her desk and shuts it.
“Oh, um, yes. Please take a seat.”
It never fails to astound me the amount of power these boys possess in the school. Even the teachers will look the other way if the Devils so decree it. I wonder if the people here actually believe that they’re supernatural creatures that have risen from hell’s bowels, claws extended and teeth serrated.
“I didn’t need your help,” I murmur harshly to Lucas as I slide into my seat behind him.
Lucas doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, he sits up straighter in his seat and begins to take diligent notes as Ms. Auperlee begins her lesson.
“Hey,” Emmett mock-whispers from the left of me. I feel something soft