Jason’s POV:
I’ve never felt this frustrated in my life. These past few days have been driving insane. Yeah, I know it was a stupid move turning Ella into a bet, and I should’ve called it off the mont I figured out her secret. After all, the bet was to expose whoever uncovered her awful truth first—and that was . I won. So why the hell did I let Dylan and Max keep going?
Damn, I ssed up. Big ti.
Shit, shit, shit.
Why the hell does she keep invading my thoughts like this? What happened to the hatred I used to feel for her? I wanted to destroy her, to dominate her, to make her realize that she couldn’t defy and walk away without consequences. But now... now, all of that has changed, and it’s driving crazy.
It’s not that I don’t still want to dominate her—I do. But it’s not about control or winning so stupid bet anymore. Now I want to dominate her heart, her mind, and her body. I want her to be as obsessed with as I am with her. I want her to feel the sa pull, the sa tension, the sa fucking madness that I feel whenever she’s near. I need her to want , to need .
I warned her not to go out with Dylan. I told her she would regret it if she did. The thought of them together eats at like a sickness. I just hope she didn’t go through with it... but knowing her, she probably did just to spite . Damn her stubbornness. Damn her defiance.
But then again, it’s that sa fire in her that’s pulled in. The way she stands up to , the way she doesn’t back down—it’s infuriating and addicting at the sa ti. No one else ever challenges like she does. And the more she fights, the more I want her. Not just her body, but all of her.
What the hell am I even thinking?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to matter. She was just a challenge, a stupid ga I started for fun. But now? Now she’s in my head, and I can’t shake her out. I told her not to go out with Dylan, but even if she did, it won’t change anything. I’ll make sure she understands that I’m the one who’s going to win this. Not just the bet—but her.
Because Ella doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already mine.
A ssage pinged in the bet group chat. I already had a bad feeling in my gut, and when I saw it was from Dylan, my blood started to boil. He had texted, "Best date ever."
Imdiately, Max fired back: "Did you kiss her? Fuck her???"
My breath caught in my throat. Rage was already bubbling inside . She actually fucking went out with Dylan after I explicitly told her not to. Of course, she would. Stubborn, defiant, Ella. I tried to calm myself, waiting for Dylan’s response, though every second felt like fuel to the fire.
Finally, Dylan replied: "Nope, but next ti... sothing will definitely happen."
I exhaled a bit, tension releasing—but not completely. Smirking, huh? That’s my girl. No one gets to kiss her apart from , much less fuck her. Dylan didn’t realize just how wrong he was about a "next ti." There would be no next ti. Not for him, not for Max, not for anyone.
Because if anyone is going to have her, it’s going to be . I’ll make damn sure of it.
Ella might think she can keep defying , pushing , but she doesn’t know what she’s really up against. Dylan and Max? They’re not real competition. I’ll make sure they both back off. This ga is done—I’ve already won, whether she knows it or not.
She’s already mine. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she stays that way.
Ella’s POV:
Another day, another hell to live through. And, of course, another day to tolerate the obnoxious Jason.
I sighed as I pulled on my hoodie, the sa one I wore every day, like a shield against this world. The day hadn’t even started yet, and I already felt drained. I knew Jason wouldn’t let things slide—not after the whole fiasco with Dylan last night. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. There was always sothing with him, so twisted ga he played to keep control, to make sure I knew I couldn’t escape his grip.
But I wasn’t going to let him see break. Not again.
Walking through campus was like a battlefield. I could feel people’s eyes on , the whispers behind my back, the snickers from groups of students who had clearly seen Jason’s stupid post on the school’s gossip site. It didn’t bother anymore—not as much, at least. I had bigger things to worry about.
Like how to survive this place without losing my mind.
Jason and his crew could do whatever they wanted. Dylan could keep acting all sweet, and Max could keep playing the indifferent cool guy. None of them mattered in the end. All I needed to do was finish school, get my degree, and get as far away from this place—and them—as possible.
I wasn’t going to give Jason the satisfaction of knowing how much he got under my skin. No, I’d smile. I’d endure. I’d be the defiant Ella he hated, the one who refused to crumble no matter how hard he tried to break .
Today was just another test. Another day to show him—and everyone else—that I wasn’t soone to be controlled. And if that pissed him off, well... all the better.
I adjusted my hoodie, squared my shoulders, and stepped out of my dorm, ready to face whatever new hell Jason had cooked up for today.
Well, I guess I forgot about Amber, the self-proclaid queen bee of the school. I had been so focused on Jason and his next "punishnt" for defying his threats that I didn’t see her coming.
As I walked through the busy hall, minding my own business, one of Amber’s mindless drones stuck her leg out in front of . I tripped, falling hard onto the floor. The sound of my body hitting the ground made the crowd stop. Within seconds, they had ford a circle around like vultures ready to feast on the drama.
Just great.
Amber sauntered forward, her high heels clicking obnoxiously against the floor, her eyes gleaming with the kind of malicious glee only she could muster. "Let’s see the face behind that mask and hood, shall we?" she sneered, the crowd’s laughter rising as she approached. "Is it as poor as you are?" she added, her words laced with venom, as if my financial situation was the worst insult she could co up with.
Laughter echoed around , feeding her inflated ego. But I didn’t flinch. I stood up quickly, straightening my hoodie and making sure my mask was still securely in place. My heart pounded in my chest, not out of fear of Amber’s taunts—I couldn’t care less about what she or her minions thought—but because I knew the real danger lay in her revealing my face.
If Amber managed to rip off my mask and hood and soone captured a photo—just one image—of , my life would unravel. My father would find out everything. The whole ti I’d spent hiding, blending into the background, all the effort I’d put into staying invisible, would be for nothing. One post, one picture on social dia, and my father’s people would be onto faster than I could even react.
Amber, of course, didn’t know this. She thought she had power over because she assud I was ashad of how I looked or where I ca from. But it wasn’t that. I wasn’t ugly, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of thinking I was ashad of who I was.
I shot her a cold glare from behind my mask, my hands clenched tightly into fists. "You really don’t want to do that, Amber," I warned, keeping my voice calm and steady despite the frustration bubbling inside .
"Oh, really?" Amber raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, taking a step closer, her fingers twitching as if she was itching to yank my hood down. The crowd, sensing the escalation, quieted slightly, waiting for my next move.
I wasn’t about to let her win. Not today.
Just as Amber’s hand darted toward my mask, her manicured fingers poised to yank it off, I caught her wrist in a firm grip. The crowd around us gasped, the laughter and jeers suddenly silenced, replaced by a thick tension that seed to cling to the air. Amber’s eyes widened, surprised by my speed and defiance.
I tightened my grip slightly, making sure she understood that I wasn’t playing along with her pathetic power trip. "I said, you don’t want to do that," I repeated, my voice calm but firm, eting her gaze with a look that dared her to try again.
Amber tried to yank her hand free, but I held on, my fingers digging just enough into her wrist to show her that I wasn’t backing down. The surprise in her eyes shifted to anger, but she couldn’t hide the flicker of uncertainty behind it. She had been so used to everyone cowering before her, so confident in her ability to humiliate, that it threw her off balance to have soone push back.
The crowd was still watching, anticipating a scene. I knew what they wanted—drama, a catfight, sothing to gossip about for the rest of the day. But I wasn’t going to give it to them.
I slowly released her wrist, but kept my eyes locked on hers, letting her know without words that I wasn’t scared of her. "What’s the matter, Amber? Still looking for soone to make you feel better about your own insecurities?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Her face flushed red, not with embarrassnt, but with fury. She was used to being the one who made others feel small, not the other way around. "Insecurities? Please," she scoffed, but her voice had lost so of its venom. She took a step back, rubbing her wrist where I had gripped her.
"You should think twice before ssing with people you don’t understand," I added, pulling my hood a little lower over my eyes, making sure the mask was still secure.
Amber glanced around, noticing that the crowd wasn’t laughing anymore. They were watching, waiting for her next move. She straightened, forcing a smug smile back onto her face as if she hadn’t just been shaken. "You’ll regret that, hoodie girl," she hissed, but her words felt empty, more of a desperate attempt to regain control than an actual threat.
"Maybe," I replied casually, stepping past her. "But not today."
Without another word, I walked through the crowd, feeling their eyes on but refusing to let it get to . Let them talk, let Amber seethe. I had bigger things to worry about—like the looming threat of Jason and whatever sche he was brewing next.
As I made my way down the hall, I couldn’t help but smirk under my mask. Amber had no idea how lucky she was that I was holding back. I wasn’t just hiding my face; I was hiding who I really was. And if she—or anyone else—pushed too far, they’d find out exactly who they were dealing with.
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