Wickedly Yours

Part 3

You storm back to your dorm, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the stone walls of the castle. The moment you step inside, the weight of everything hits you like a tidal wave.

You should have kept your mouth shut, you tell yourself bitterly. Confiding in Draco, letting him see your vulnerability—it was a mistake. A valuable lesson learned. You don't tell anyone anything.

The emotions simmer inside you, frustration and regret swirling together. You toss your bag onto your bed and collapse into the chair by your desk. With a sigh, you pull out your spellphone, the screen lighting up with a long list of unread messages. Beckett.

Nearly 20 messages. His words blur together as you scroll through them—each one more demanding, more insistent than the last.

Beckett always had a way of getting under your skin, his control and possessiveness woven into every interaction. You've been avoiding him, and clearly, he's noticed.

You're overreacting, you text back finally, your fingers moving quickly across the screen. I'm just busy with school.

It doesn't take long for his reply to come through.

Overreacting? You've ignored me for days. You can't just disappear on me like that, Bea.

You grit your teeth, your frustration growing. The back-and-forth begins, Beckett's tone becoming sharper with each message. He tries to guilt you, accusing you of not caring, of making him worry, as if your entire world should revolve around him.

Finally, you snap, your fingers flying across the screen. If you don't stop, I'll block your number.

There's a brief pause, and then another message comes through.

Call me.

You hesitate, feeling the familiar dread creep in. But part of you knows you need to face him, to shut this down before it spirals further out of control. With a deep breath, you press the call button and hold the phone to your ear.

His voice is smooth when he answers, but you can hear the edge of manipulation in it. "Hey, pretty girl. I've been waiting for you to call."

You clench your jaw, trying to stay calm. "I've been busy, Beckett. I told you—school's been crazy."

He sighs, the sound heavy and full of accusation. "Busy? Too busy to even send me a message? What's really going on, Bea? Are you seeing someone else?"

You feel the anger bubbling up, but you try to keep your voice steady. "No, Beckett. I'm not seeing anyone else. I'm just trying to focus on school."

His tone sharpens. "You're lying. I can feel it. Don't play games with me, Bea. You know I don't like it when you hide things from me."

Your heart races as he talks, his words like barbs digging into you. He's always known exactly how to twist things, to make you feel guilty, even when you haven't done anything wrong. And now, the weight of his control feels suffocating.

"Beckett," you say, your voice firm. "I'm not playing games. But if you keep pushing, I'm going to block you. I'm serious."

There's a long silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, you think he's going to let it go. But then he speaks again, softer this time, his voice oozing manipulation. "Come on, Bea... You don't really want to do that, do you? We have something special, you and me. Don't throw it all away just because you're stressed. I'll give you space, I promise. Just... don't push me away."

There's a heavy silence on the line after Beckett's soft, coaxing words, and you feel the weight of your next words pressing down on you. His manipulation is as thick as ever, but this time, you're determined to push back.