Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Henna’s POV

My kind. That phrase eats at me long after I sit down. I scan the room, my eyes burning with embarrassment. People are glancing at me, their whispers like a low hum of static, but nobody says anything directly. They just watch, waiting for me to trip up again.

What exactly happened to "people of my kind"? The words are so insulting and unsettling that I can’t focus. The teacher keeps talking, her chalk scratching against the board, but I don't hear a word of the lecture until she finally snaps her briefcase shut.

"Please do your homework and have it submitted by the weekend," she says, grabbing her things and walking out without a second glance at the class.

I watch her leave, feeling a momentary sense of relief, until someone else appears in my line of sight. He’s tall, incredibly handsome in a sharp, cold way, but his gaze is deadly. He doesn't just look at me; he looms over my desk.

"Hey, new student," he says.

Before I can even respond, he leans down. I freeze as I feel his breath against my neck. He isn't looking at me, he’s smelling me.

"She seriously has no scent, guys," he says, straightening up and turning to his friends. They’re huddled in groups by their lockers, their eyes fixed on me like I’m some strange specimen in a jar.

A sudden, hot anger flares in the pit of my stomach. I’ve had enough of being treated like a freak. "What do you think you're doing?" I ask, standing up so abruptly my chair screeches against the stone floor.

His eyes meet mine again, looking mildly surprised that I’m talking back. "You walk over to my table just to smell me?"

"Why? Can't I do that?" he asks, a mocking tilt to his head.

"No, you can't," I snap, my voice trembling with a mix of fury and nerves. "If you want to know me, you ask my name. Then we can talk like normal people. You don't just put your nose on me."

The guy lets out a dry, short laugh that doesn't reach his eyes. He looks at his friends, then back at me, his expression turning cold.

"Why should I get to know you," he says, leaning in close again, "when the entire school already knows exactly what you are?"

"And what is that?" I challenge, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"A mistake," he whispers, so low only I can hear. "A little lamb that wandered into a den of lions."

"What did you just say?"

"What you heard," he says, his voice like a blade.

He doesn't look away from me, but his hand suddenly shoots out with a speed that makes my head spin. Before I can even gasp, he has a fistful of Caroline’s hair.

"You are at least prettier than... whatever this thing is," he says, pulling her head back with a cruel jerk.

Caroline lets out a sharp, pathetic whimper. She doesn't fight him; she just goes limp, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose as she stares at the ceiling with watery eyes. She looks like she’s used to this, like she’s already accepted that her only role in this school is to be a punching bag.

"Let her go!" I scream. My blood isn't just boiling anymore, it’s screaming. I reach across the desk, not even thinking about how big he is or how many of his friends are watching. I grab his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away from Caroline’s hair. "Let her go right now, you jerk!"

He doesn't budge. It’s like grabbing a statue made of warm marble. He finally looks down at my hand on his arm, his lip curling in a sneer.

"You’ve got a lot of fire for a nobody," he says, his grip tightening on Caroline until she lets out another choked cry. "Do you even know who I am? I’m Jax. My family owns half the timber industry in the Ridge. I could have you tossed over the border before lunch, and nobody would even look for your body."

"I don't care who your family is!" I snap, pulling harder on his arm. "Let her go or I’ll make sure the Principal hears about this!"

Jax laughs, and his friends join in, a chorus of dark, mocking sounds. "The Principal?" He lets the word roll in his tongue before he finally lets go, his face leaning in closer to mine.

"You should be saving yourself and not someone else..." Jax says, his voice dropping into a low, threatening crawl. He finally lets go of Caroline’s hair, but he doesn't step back. Instead, he leans in closer to me,

I don't waste a second. I reach out and help Caroline stand up. She’s shaking so hard I can feel it through her thin sweater, her glasses crooked on her face.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," I snap, my voice trembling with a mix of fury and adrenaline. "Bullying your own classmate? Is that what passes for 'elite' behavior around here?"

Jax lets out a sharp, dry laugh. He looks at his friends, then back at me. "You're talking about her as if she's on the same level as us? You really are clueless, aren't you?"

I want to say more. I want to scream at him that nobody is "above" anyone else, but I’m already exhausted. It’s only my first day and I feel like I’ve been fighting for my life since I stepped off that bike. I turn to Caroline, ignoring the snickers from the back of the room.

"Let's go," I say, grabbing my bag and hers too.

"On whose order?" Jax challenges. He steps in front of us, blocking the row. "Caroline, you know how it is. You don't get to decide where to go or when you leave. You stay until we're bored."

He reaches out again, his hand moving toward Caroline in a way that makes my skin crawl. He starts to put his hands on her, touching her with a disgusting, proprietary ease that makes my eyes bulge. I’m about to swing my bag at his head when a sharp voice cuts through the tension like a whip.

"Jax! What do you think you're doing?"

The room goes deathly silent. I turn, and there she is.

Olenna.

She’s standing in the doorway, looking like she stepped out of a high-fashion magazine and into a nightmare. The atmosphere in the classroom shifts instantly. The students who were cheering Jax on suddenly look at their desks. Even Jax drops his hand and stands up straight, his face pale as he tries to comport himself.

I stare at her, my heart hammering. Who is she to hold this much power over a room full of people?

Olenna doesn't say a word at first. She just walks toward us, her heels clicking rhythmically on the stone floor. She stops right at Jax's feet, her eyes as cold as mountain ice.

"Bend over," she commands.

It’s a flat, simple order. To my horror, Jax doesn't argue. He doesn't even hesitate. He bows his head and leans forward just enough.

Olenna’s palm reaches out and strikes him across the chin. The sound of the slap echoes off the vaulted ceiling.

"How dare you bully the new student?"