17

17
Mirella’s POV

Kaelen’s warning had been looping in my head all night — “When the legions notice what you’re doing, you’ll pay for it.”
I didn’t want to believe him, but deep down, I knew he was right. If they found out, they wouldn’t let it slide.

Still, stopping wasn’t an option.

The next morning, I met Yuki and the stutterer behind the library, where we usually gathered to talk without drawing attention. Their faces said everything — fear, worry, doubt.

“I think maybe… maybe we should stop,” the stutterer said softly, his voice trembling more than usual. “Ka–Kaelen’s warning… what if he’s right?”

Yuki glanced at me, uncertain. “He could be. The legions have power, Mirella. They control everything — even the teachers.”

“I know,” I said, cutting her off gently. “But that’s exactly why we have to keep going.”

Yuki frowned. “Even if it gets dangerous?”

“Especially if it gets dangerous.”

They both looked at me like I was crazy, and maybe I was. But this wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about every student who’d been humiliated, shoved aside, or told they weren’t good enough.

Yuki sighed, then nodded slowly. “Fine. But if we’re serious about this, we need more people. We can’t fight them with just the three of us.”

She was right.

For days, I started paying closer attention to the students around me — the loners, the quiet ones, the ones who flinched when the legions walked by. The school was full of broken pieces, people who had simply learned to stay silent to survive.

And then I noticed him.

A boy who always sat alone during lunch near the back corner of the cafeteria. Broad shoulders, tall frame, black hair that fell just above his eyes. He looked like he could crush someone if he wanted to, but he never did.

No one dared to sit with him.

The next day, I grabbed my tray and walked over to his table. He looked up when I stopped in front of him, surprise flashing in his eyes.

“Mind if I sit?” I asked.

He hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Sure.”

His voice was deep, calm.

I sat down across from him. The silence between us was thick, the kind that made you painfully aware of every breath.

“I’ve seen you around,” I said finally. “You’re always alone.”

He gave a faint shrug. “I like it that way.”

“Why?”

He looked at me then — really looked. His eyes were dark, steady. “Because people talk too much. And most of them are fake.”

Fair point.

I studied him quietly. “You don’t talk to anyone. Are you scared of the legions too?”

That got his attention. His eyes narrowed. “Scared? No. I just don’t care about their nonsense.”

There was something raw in his voice, something heavy. Like maybe he’d cared once — and got burned for it.

I leaned forward. “What if I told you I do care? That I want to end their nonsense?”

He raised an eyebrow. “End it? How?”

I told him. Everything. About my plan to build my own group — a team that wouldn’t bow to the legions. A group of people who were tired of being stepped on.

Dante — that was his name — listened without interrupting. When I was done, he didn’t laugh or call me insane like I expected. He just stared at me for a long moment and said quietly, “You’ve got guts.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.

He nodded slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

That was all I could ask for. I gave him my number before leaving, not sure if I’d ever hear from him again.

But that night, while I was half buried under homework, my phone buzzed.

Dante: I’m in.

Just two words. But they made me grin.

Finally — four members. Me, Yuki, the stutterer, and Dante. We weren’t strong yet, but it was a start.

\---

The next morning, everything went sideways.

I was walking down the hallway when a familiar, mocking voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Well, if it isn’t the wannabe rebel,” the female legion sneered. Her perfectly manicured hand rested on her hip, her lips curled into a smirk. “I heard you’ve been recruiting people.”

My stomach tightened, but I kept my face calm. “You heard wrong.”

She laughed — loud, sharp, cruel. “Oh, come on. You think we wouldn’t notice a loser like you suddenly making friends? You’re not as invisible as you think, fatty.”

The hallway grew quieter. People were watching.

I forced myself to meet her eyes. “If you’re done, I have somewhere to be.”

Her smile faltered for a second, then twisted again. “You really are stupid, Mirella. You think you can challenge us and live to tell the tale?”

Before I could reply, she shoved me — hard. My balance slipped, and I would’ve fallen if not for a strong hand catching my arm.

Dante.

He stood beside me, his grip steady, his expression unreadable.

“Is there a problem?” he asked coolly.

The female legion blinked, clearly not expecting anyone to interfere. “And who exactly are you?”

“Her friend,” Dante said, his tone even. “You should walk away.”

For a heartbeat, she looked caught off guard. Then she laughed again, though her voice wasn’t as confident as before. “You’ll regret that, both of you.”

She turned sharply and stormed off, her entourage following behind like shadows.

The hallway buzzed again with whispers. Everyone had seen it.

I turned to Dante. “Thanks,” I said quietly.

He shrugged. “She was annoying.”

Still, the way he’d stood there — calm, fearless — gave me something I hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

Maybe this was really happening. Maybe we were actually building something.

As I watched the female legion disappear around the corner, a thought crossed my mind — one that made my pulse quicken.

This wasn’t the end.

It was the beginning.

And from the way Kaelen’s warning echoed in my mind, I knew the legions wouldn’t take this quietly.

Something was about to break.