The chosen ones.

Chapter 15. ( Triggers).

Bitch I'm a baddie I get what I want - ice spice

Ryan gently placed Maelle back on the bed, his movements surprisingly tender as he tried to avoid looking into her eyes. The dim light in the room cast shadows over her face, which was etched with confusion as she finally spoke. "Where am I? And...what happened?"

Ryan paused, his back turned to her, unwilling to reveal whatever lingered in his expression. His voice, when he spoke, was cold, clipped. "You almost drowned," he said. "And you're in my house." He wanted to leave it at that, to shut the door on whatever strange, overwhelming emotions he had felt when he pulled her from the water. But Maelle didn't stay lying down. She started to rise, unsteady but determined.

"I told you to stay where you were," he snapped, the irritation in his tone unmistakable. Her insistence on moving grated on him, like she was dismissing his concern.

Maelle looked up at him, defiant, her chin lifted. "And what if I don't?" she challenged, her voice steely.

Ryan's eyes flared, his anger surfacing like a wave. "Well, you can go die for all I care!" His voice was harsh, but beneath the anger was something else, something he couldn't name. "Not like I wanted to help anyway."

The words should have stung, but Maelle's expression remained painfully calm. She'd heard worse. Life had beaten her into a cold resilience that showed in her blank stare. "So why did you help?" she asked quietly. "You could have left me to drown."

Ryan's mouth twisted, his eyes narrowing. "Trust me, when I look back, I wish I did," he retorted, each word sharper than the last. "You're a real bad luck, you know that?" But as the last sentence left his lips, he felt a sudden pang of regret. He watched as the color drained from her face, a flicker of pain breaking through her usual composure.

Her voice was icy. "No, actually," she said, standing up straighter, "you should have. You just made things easier for me." She paused, her gaze unfocused, as though speaking more to herself than to him. "I did think, just for a moment... I hoped it would last." Her voice softened, but bitterness crept in. "I knew I was living in a fantasy world. Scarlette was right after all. I don't have a mate."

Ryan's head jerked up, her words piercing through his anger like a spear. "What do you mean?" he asked, but she was already gathering her things, her movements sharp and final. She bowed her head slightly, formal, distant. "Sorry for the trouble these past few days." And with that, she turned and left the room, her footsteps echoing in the empty silence. Ryan stood there, a hollowness settling over him as he watched her go, knowing he had gone too far.

The next day, in the bright clamor of school, Tiberah walked into class to find Dylan and Dracon locked in an animated argument. Dylan, his arms crossed, seemed intent on proving a point as Dracon gestured wildly, his face flushed.

"Your Highness!" Dracon called out to Tiberah, who rolled her eyes as she approached. "Tell this infidel that ice blue is better than green!" His tone was melodramatic, his eyes wide with theatricality.

Dylan nudged him aside, scoffing. "No, your graceful majesty," he retorted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Tell him green is better than ice blue."

Tiberah regarded them both with a raised eyebrow. "Childish," she declared, shaking her head, but a faint smile played on her lips as she watched them "argue." Secretly, she did prefer green, but she kept her opinion to herself, not wanting to break Dracon's heart. *What am I thinking, Tiberah Opal Lendoran?* she mused, slightly annoyed at herself for even caring.

Dracon settled beside her, his tone softer. "So, what's new?" he asked, leaning in, his expression curious.

She quirked a brow, a smirk tugging at her mouth. "Oh, just the fact that you look human and sensible today." Across the room, Maynard burst into laughter, catching the exchange. He strolled over, stretching out a fist to Tiberah, who grinned and bumped it lightly.