Chapter 47. Breaking Point

The paint hadn’t dried by morning.

Custodians had tried scrubbing her locker, but the letters only smeared, black veins streaking down the metal like rot. Even blurred, the words were still visible.

The hallway swarmed with whispers. Every glance clung to Riven like a pin pressed into skin. She kept her eyes forward, books clutched too tight in her bandaged hands, forcing herself to walk as if the floor didn’t tilt under her boots.

A shoulder clipped hers. Another. Not accidents. The bruises bloomed, but she swallowed the urge to react. If she snapped, she’d prove them right—that Hale’s daughter was nothing but a fuse waiting to catch.

At the end of the hall, Axel leaned against the lockers. Hood shadowing his bruised jaw, eyes unreadable, he didn’t move until she reached him. Then he pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her.

The whispers sharpened, hungry.

Riven’s jaw locked. “Don’t.”

His gaze flicked sideways. “Don’t what?” His vo