Butterflies

Chapter 18

"Alex." I said, my voice steady as I walked toward him in the dimly lit hall. His minions scattered at a flick of his wrist, leaving just the two of us in the suffocating silence.

"Jewel," he greeted, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "Made a choice?"

"I hate you." My voice was low, cold, every syllable dripping with loathing. But he only chuckled, the sound crawling under my skin and sending shivers through me.

I sighed and forced myself to meet his piercing blue eyes, hoping—praying—for some flicker of humanity, some sign that this nightmare had an end.

"One call, Jewel," he said softly, his words laced with venomous certainty. "And it becomes Angelica's turn."

"Shut up," I snapped, my voice cracking slightly. "You already know my choice."

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Do I now? I'm afraid you'll still have to say it yourself."

"I..." The word stuck in my throat, choking me with its weight.

"You?" he prompted, the mockery in his voice like poison.

"I'll date you, Alex." The words left my mouth like broken glass. "Just... keep your promise. Leave Angelica and Demi out of this."

His grin sharpened as he leaned slightly closer. "Funny," he said, almost lazily, "I never mentioned Demi, did I?"

My breath hitched, and I clenched my fists. "I don't know what twisted plan your sick mind has for her, but I'm not playing your games anymore."

Alex's expression shifted, his smirk softening into something far more sinister—possessive, dark, and unyielding. He leaned down until his face was inches from mine, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispered:

"Remember this, Jewel. You were mine then. You are mine now. And no matter how far you run, how loud you scream, or how much you fight me... you will always be mine."

He pulled back just enough to let his words settle like frost on my skin, his blue eyes locking with mine, trapping me in a silent prison of his making.

And in that moment, I realized—there was no point in trying to escape.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, painting golden patterns on my desk, but I couldn't feel any warmth. My fingers trembled as I flipped the pages of my textbook, trying—and failing—to focus on the words in front of me.

"Morning, girlfriend."

His voice cut through the hum of chatter around the classroom, smooth and sharp, like silk wrapped around barbed wire. I froze as Alex leaned against my desk, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

"Don't call me that," I muttered, keeping my eyes glued to the pages of my book.

"But that's what you are now, aren't you?" he said, slipping into the seat beside me without an invitation. "We should make this official, don't you think? Matching necklaces? Or would you prefer the classic public display—like, I don't know, me kissing you in front of everyone right now?"