Chapter 24
The Sinclair brothers didn’t waste any time.
By Monday morning, the quiet power they held over Blackthorn Academy became painfully clear. Andrea could feel it in the way people whispered behind cupped hands, in the sideways glances she received as she walked through the hallways.
“Did you hear what happened to Alyssa?” someone whispered in passing.
“They said her grades tanked overnight. She’s going to lose her spot in the top ten,” another voice responded.
Andrea’s stomach churned. She knew Damien was behind it. The dark look in his eyes as he pored over the security footage replayed in her mind. “If they play games,” he’d said coolly, “we’ll change the rules.”
It wasn’t just the grades.
Gabriel was even subtler. Whispers about one of the suspects spread like wildfire—rumors of cheating, forged application essays, and unpaid favors from art-world connections. “Funny how stories like that get around,” Gabriel had murmured when Andrea confronted him about it.
Liam, meanwhile, had stripped his usual charisma from the group entirely. Key players suddenly found themselves out in the cold, left to fend for themselves socially. Without Liam’s effortless charm keeping them afloat, their fall from grace was swift and brutal.
And then there was Aiden.
Andrea flinched as she overheard two students talking in hushed tones near the library.
“Did you see Matt’s arm? He said Aiden cornered him after practice.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. Just talked. But I guess he squeezed his wrist hard enough to leave a bruise.”
Andrea’s head ached with guilt. This was her fault—her presence, her refusal to leave well enough alone, had unleashed something she couldn’t control.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the garden in warm, golden hues, Andrea sat on a stone bench tucked away in a quiet corner of the Sinclair dormitory grounds. The air was cool, the breeze carrying the faint scent of jasmine, but Andrea barely noticed.
She stared at the ground, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The guilt sat heavy on her chest, pressing down like a weight she couldn’t shake.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the bench if you sit there much longer.”
Andrea looked up sharply to see Nathaniel standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, his sharp gaze fixed on her.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, looking back down.
Nathaniel didn’t move. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Andrea sighed, running a hand through her hair. “What do you want, Nathaniel?”
“To check on you,” he said simply, stepping closer. “Though I think I already know the answer.”
“I said I’m fine,” Andrea snapped, her voice sharper than she intended.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, but instead of responding, he sat down beside her.
The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Andrea found herself glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He was always so composed, so controlled, but tonight there was something softer about him—something almost human.
“It’s my fault,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nathaniel turned to her, his brow furrowing. “What is?”
“All of it,” Andrea said, gesturing vaguely. “The grades, the rumors, Aiden breaking people’s wrists—”
“That didn’t happen,” Nathaniel interrupted.
“Still,” Andrea pressed, her voice rising, “this is all because of me. If I had just… I don’t know, stayed quiet, none of this would’ve happened.”
Nathaniel’s expression hardened. “You think this is your fault?”
Andrea blinked at him, startled by the intensity in his tone. “Isn’t it?”
“No,” he said firmly. “This is on them. They thought they could use you, hurt you, and get away with it. They underestimated us. That’s their mistake.”
Andrea shook her head, her voice trembling. “But I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Nathaniel leaned closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “Sometimes, people need to be reminded of where the boundaries are. Of what happens when they cross them.”
His words sent a shiver down Andrea’s spine. “That’s easy for you to say,” she whispered. “You’re not the one stuck in the middle of it.”
Nathaniel’s gaze softened slightly, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re not stuck, Andrea. You’re protected. There’s a difference.”
The warmth of his touch lingered, and Andrea’s breath hitched. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
Nathaniel’s lips curved into a faint smile, but his eyes were serious. “Because you’re worth it.”
Andrea’s chest tightened, a swirl of emotions she couldn’t name rising to the surface.
Before she could stop herself, she said, “You scare me sometimes.”
Nathaniel’s smile faded, replaced by something deeper, more vulnerable. “Good,” he said softly. “You should be scared. That’s how you survive.”
Andrea didn’t reply. Her mind screamed at her to move, to pull away, but her body didn’t listen. When Nathaniel kissed her, his lips were firm and possessive, like he was claiming something that had always been his.
Andrea’s heart pounded as she let herself sink into the moment, the fear and confusion mingling with something she couldn’t deny was intoxicating.
When Nathaniel pulled back, his eyes searched hers, as if waiting for her to speak. But Andrea couldn’t find the words.
Nathaniel’s gaze hardened slightly, as though he had already prepared for the silence. “This isn’t a game, Andrea,” he said quietly. “Not for me.”
