Chapter 12 A Deal with the Devil

Chapter 12 A Deal with the Devil


The thing about threats is that they don’t always come with fists or shouting. Sometimes, they come wrapped in silk, smooth and persuasive, like honey laced with poison.

That’s exactly how Jace Langston corners me the next morning.

I don’t see him at first—I just feel him. That strange shift in the atmosphere, the way people step aside without realizing why, how conversations dip when he’s near. By the time I round the corner toward my locker, I know he’ll be there. And of course he is, leaning against the cool gray metal like it belongs to him, arms folded, that infuriating half-smile tugging at his mouth.

Golden boy. Prince of Blackridge. Devil in a school tie.

I stop a few feet away, my bag strap biting into my shoulder. “Move.”

He tilts his head like he’s actually considering it, then shrugs. “No.”

My jaw tightens. “Some of us actually need to get to class.”

“Relax, Sinclair.” His voice is velvet over broken glass—smooth but dangerous. “This won’t take long.”

The hallway buzzes around us, students rushing past, slamming lockers, laughing too loudly. None of them glance our way for more than a second. It’s like they can sense something sharp in the air and don’t want to cut themselves on it.

“Fine,” I snap, lowering my voice. “What?”

He leans closer, lowering his too, so only I can hear. “We both know you’re not who you say you are. And we both know you’ve got a dangerous habit of poking at things that don’t concern you.”

My stomach flips, but I keep my face blank. “Paranoid much?”

He smirks, but his eyes stay cold. “See, here’s the thing. I could expose you. One word in the right ear, and your shiny little transfer-student act crumbles. You’d be gone before the week is over.”

The sound of his voice is a vise around my ribs. Not loud, not aggressive, but steady. Certain. Like he’s already mapped out exactly how fast my world could collapse.

“But,” he continues, “I’m willing to be generous. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. No one has to know who you really are.”

The words hit harder than any shove could. A leash. That’s what he’s offering me. One that looks like mercy but feels like a chokehold.

I swallow hard. “And if I don’t agree?”

He tilts his head, studying me like a puzzle. “Then I stop pretending.”

The bell rings overhead, shrill, making me jump. Students shuffle around us, but it’s like we’re trapped in our own bubble, locked in this silent war.

I grit my teeth. “Fine. Deal.”

His eyes flicker, like he wasn’t expecting me to give in so easily. For a second, I think he might push harder, press until I break. But then the mask slips back on, lazy grin in place. He steps aside, sweeping a hand toward my locker like a gentleman making space.

“Smart choice,” he murmurs as I spin the dial. “For now.”

He walks away without another word, swallowed by the tide of students. I shove my books into my bag with shaking hands, every nerve buzzing.

For now.

He thinks I’ll back off. He thinks fear will leash me.

He has no idea.

The rest of the day passes in a haze. I hear teachers talking, but the words don’t stick. My pen moves across paper, but the notes blur together. My focus is fractured, pulled between Noah’s face in my memory and Jace’s voice in my ear.

Stay out of my way.

But how can I? Every time I close my eyes, I see Noah, smiling like he always knew more than I did, telling me things would be okay. He didn’t raise me to fold. He didn’t vanish so I could play it safe.

So while Jace struts through the halls, looking like he’s won, I spend lunch hidden in the library with my laptop open.

I dig.

Archives. Forums. Obscure blogs that no one reads anymore. I search for anything—anything—tied to the Langstons. It’s like pulling on loose threads, trying to see what unravels.

There’s a charity fund that doesn’t add up. Money flowing in, but less flowing out. A scholarship program under Jace’s father’s name that mysteriously stopped two years ago. Police reports that cut off mid-sentence, like someone pulled the plug before they could finish.

Every discovery is a match ready to strike, but none of them are enough on their own. Still, I keep collecting. One day, I’ll have enough to burn the whole empire down.

But the more I uncover, the more I hesitate. Because every file, every headline, every shady move… it all points back to Chief Langston. The man pulling the strings. The man who made sure my brother’s story disappeared.

Not Jace.

Not entirely.

And that tiny sliver of doubt worms its way under my skin.

What if Jace isn’t the mastermind? What if he’s just another pawn, too scared to break free?

The thought makes me falter, just for a second. And hesitation, I know, is dangerous.

That night, lying in bed, I replay his words again and again. You’re not who you say you are. I’ll find out who you are. He’s circling me like a wolf, testing the fence for weak spots. One slip and he’ll tear straight through.

But I can’t stop.

Won’t stop.

The deal he forced me into is just smoke. A distraction. He doesn’t own me, and he never will.

Which is why, the next morning, when I pass him in the hall and he smirks at me like the devil who thinks he owns my soul, I smile back. Sweet. Harmless. Obedient.

And inside, I sharpen my knives.

Because deals with the devil always end one way.

In fire.

The question isn’t whether I’ll burn.

It’s whether I can make sure he burns first.