The Tormentors (Prey Series #1)

Liessa

I show my ID to the guard, and he lets me in with a blank look. I step through the yard, making my way to the quiet, almost deserted hallway. It's oddly silent, and the few students around are staring at me, whispering under their breaths. Every time I meet someone's gaze, they look away, though some smirk. Unease prickles up my spine. Before I can figure out what's going on, a ball rolls under my feet, sending me stumbling. I can't catch myself, and I go down hard, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs. Pain flares up, sharp and unforgiving.

A crowd emerges from nowhere, laughter echoing, phones raised to record my humiliation. "Well, well, look who decided to join us, our little miss brave. Tell us, how does it feel to taste the floor?" a girl sneers, shoving her phone camera in my face.

I glare, sitting up slowly, my elbows and knees throbbing from fresh bruises. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I shout, voice laced with frustration.

The girl rolls her eyes, giving a smug little shrug. "You should've known better than to mess with The Lords. Now you're just getting what you signed up for."

I clench my teeth, swallowing back the frustration. I know arguing won't do any good-they're all just mindless puppets, spinning on someone else's strings. I stagger to my feet, wincing as the pain shoots up from my bruised knees, my cheeks burning as I try to shield my face from the relentless cameras. If any of these videos make it online, I'll be screwed.

Why didn't I just lay low?

As I turn to walk away, someone throws the ball at me again, hard enough to make me stumble back down. More laughter erupts, filling the space with cruel energy.

Then, like shadows gathering in the twilight, they approach-the Lords. They stop right in front of me, looming over where I'm sprawled on the floor. I meet their gazes with a steady glare. "Do you think these childish pranks will make me stumble?" I snap, challenging them.

Brian chuckles, dropping to a crouch in front of me. "Oh, Newbie," he murmurs, his voice like ice, "we haven't even started yet." His eyes drift down to my bruises, and he reaches out, tracing the wounds with his fingertips, a featherlight touch that sends an unsettling shiver down my spine. "By the time we're done, you'll be begging for mercy." He looks up, meeting my gaze with a hard, unyielding stare.

I clench my jaw so tight it aches. "You don't know me," I bite out, rising to my feet despite the pain. "I'd rather die." He smirks, stepping back. "We'll see about that." Tristan, at his side, wears a matching grin, while Asher leans against the wall, expression as unreadable as ever.

The crowd watches eagerly, too afraid to challenge these three, too desperate for their favor. They're all playing by the Lords' rules, but I'm not like them, and I don't care about their rules. They have no idea what I've survived.

With one last glare, I push past Brian, forcing myself to walk away even though the pain in my knees stings with each step.

I make my way to the washroom, and when I catch my reflection in the mirror, I just sigh. "Pathetic," I mutter, splashing cold water on my face. I steel myself before heading to my classroom, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me shaken.

The chatter dies instantly as I step in, all eyes on me. Ignoring the stares, I go to my seat and immediately regret not checking it first. A fresh wave of laughter erupts as I realize my skirt is glued to the chair, with sticky glue now dripping onto my clothes. Frustration boils over, and I slam my hands on the desk, making the room fall silent.