𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 18+

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐

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ROSE
MONROE
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"I feel so bad," I mumbled, my voice barely more than a whisper as the weight of everything settled on me. "I always knew Blair wasn't as bad as we made her out to be. Aiden... Aiden's the real monster here."

Ares had just filled us in on what went down yesterday in detention, and now the pieces of the puzzle were clicking into place. The last thing I expected was for Blair to be the victim in this twisted game, and it unsettled me more than I cared to admit.

Ada, the one who always seemed to feel everything with an intensity I could never quite match, glanced at Loren. A brief flicker of sadness flashed across her face, like a shadow passing over a moonlit lake. I could see her thoughts swirling, fighting against the instinct to stay aloof, to remain neutral, and yet, a pang of empathy tugged at her heart.

"Not to be rude, but why would you make Aiden cheat on her?" Ada's words sliced through the tense air, her voice quiet but laced with a bitterness that could rival even the darkest of moods. "It's kind of selfish, Loren," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Then, lowering her voice, she added, "I don't like Aiden. His older brother... he's very bad." Her eyes darkened with something that wasn't quite fear but close enough to send a chill down my spine.

I looked at Ada, noticing the subtle shift in her expression, the way her shoulders tightened, and my heart skipped a beat. I wasn't sure what kind of history Ada had with Aiden's brother, but I wasn't stupid. That haunted look in her eyes? It was all too familiar.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice softer now, concern pushing through the walls I'd carefully built around myself.

Ada's lips curled into a grin, but it was the kind of grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. She nodded, her gaze distant for a moment before focusing back on Loren.

Loren, as always, was unapologetically herself, brushing off Ada's judgment like it was nothing more than a fly buzzing around her head. She crossed her arms, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "He called me," she said, her voice smooth, almost too casual. "Said he wanted a fling. I did it. Not because I care about him, but because Blair deserves it. She dropped paint on my prom dress last year, on purpose." Her eyes flashed with something darker, a cold fire burning behind her words.

It was so typical of Loren, I thought. Every move she made was a calculated chess move, revenge always simmering just below the surface. There was no room for weakness in her world. No room for forgiveness.

I could feel the air thickening with the tension of it all, the consequences of their actions hanging like a guillotine waiting to fall. Loren's need for revenge was like a drug to her, and no matter how much she tried to mask it with sarcasm and indifference, I could see it. I could feel it.

"What did you think was going to happen?" I whispered, the question slipping out before I could stop it. My voice trembled, not from fear, but from something I couldn't quite name. Something darker. "Did you really think it would fix things?"

Loren didn't respond immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me, the silence between us growing heavy. Finally, she shrugged, her smile returning, though it was twisted, a shadow of something more sinister. "It doesn't matter," she said, her tone hardening. "What matters is that Blair isn't the only one who can play this game. It's about time someone made Aiden feel the consequences."

I glanced at Ares, my gaze lingering a little too long, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he'd notice the effort I was making to shift the energy in the air. The heavy silence that hung between us felt suffocating, thick with unspoken tension, thick with the weight of all the secrets we weren't sharing. "You're a good guy for telling her, Ares," I murmured, my voice quieter than I intended, and I gave him a small, fragile smile, one that I hoped would offer a flicker of warmth in the middle of this storm. But I could feel it, the emptiness in the gesture, the way it barely even touched the coldness around us.