Chapter 7
LEO
I was mid-conversation with Xavier and Tristan, half-focused, half-fuming over the newest round of texts about the exposé fallout when I heard the hush sweep through the quad.
The kind of hush that rolls in like thunder. Like awe.
I turned—and forgot how to breathe.
There she was.
Jade Bryan. Not the scholarship girl. Not some easy target with secrets to expose.
She didn’t look broken.
She looked... reborn.
Hair cropped sharp around her jaw. Eyes lined in kohl and shadowed with something fierce. She moved like a girl who didn’t come to survive. She came to rule.
“She changed her hair,” Xavier said, biting off a grin. “Bad bitch energy activated.”
“She changed everything,” I murmured.
And I swear, when she walked past us like we didn’t exist, I felt my fucking knees go weak.
“Bruh,” Tristan aid quietly. “She’s about to turn this whole place inside out.”
She didn’t look at me. Not once. And that cut deeper than any slap, any insult, any heartbreak.
Because I’d broken her.
And she’d rebuilt herself without a trace of me left in the blueprints.
Until I earn a place beside that throne again—if I ever do—I’ll be watching from the shadows while she makes this school kneel.
And heaven help the first bitch who tries to cross her now.
“She didn’t look at me,” I said again, mostly to myself. “Didn’t even blink.”
“She didn’t need to,” Xavier replied. “That walk was a kill shot. Cold-blooded.”
Tristan let out a low whistle, watching Jade disappear into the science wing like the dess of vengeance. “Damn. And I just got over calling her Your Highness.”
I shot him a sideways look. “Thought you were backing off.”
He shrugged, flashing that cocky grin that always got him in trouble. “Oh, I am. From the romantic stuff. Don’t get me wrong—her glow-up deserves a standing ovation—but I prefer my girls with less fire and more fondue.”
X raised a brow. “Fondue?”
“You know what I mean.” Tristan smirked. “But I’m still Operation Win the Queen’s Heart support team. Logistics. Strategy. Memes. And don’t forget I’m ‘with Mindy’.”
I grunted. “Glad you’re having fun.” I narrowed my eyes. “You said she doesn’t even look at me.”
“Exactly. Which means you’ve got to earn it.” He clapped me on the back. “Start with something meaningful. Something big. You don’t win a queen’s heart with cafeteria flowers and sad eyes, Leo.”
“Yeah?” I muttered. “And what do I win her with?”
Xavier turned, deadpan as ever. “Justice.”
That word hit me like a sucker punch to the ribs.
He was right. All of this—what happened to her back in Ohio, the hell she was dragged through here at Royal Oaks—it wasn’t going to be fixed with flowers.
It had to be undone.
Exposed. Burned to ash.
And only then could I maybe walk up to her—not with my last name or my charm—but with the truth.
And hope she still wanted it.
Tristan rubbed his hands together. “Let’s call it what it is—Operation Rebuild the Throne. You want her back? You don’t just win her heart. You defend it.”
I didn’t respond.
I just looked down the hallway where she’d disappeared… and nodded.
Challenge accepted.
I see her.
Down the corridor in front of the art wing—like some fever dream in combat boots and eyeliner. She walks like she owns the place now, like she’s the one wearing the crown and I’m the one crawling back.
Which... I kind of am.
She doesn’t even glance at me.
That’s what kills me. Not the cold shoulder. Not the whispers trailing in her wake. Not even the fact that Tristan and Xavier have started orbiting her like she’s gravity itself.
It’s that I don’t exist to her anymore.
I don’t think. I move.
My hand hits the locker beside her with a loud slam, stopping her mid-step.
“Jade.”
Nothing.
Her gaze flicks toward me—disinterested. Cruel.
“I don’t have time to play dress-up with ghosts,” she says coolly, brushing past me like I’m air.
I step in front of her again. “Stop pretending you don’t care.”
She crosses her arms. “Stop pretending you ever did.”
Ouch.
I swallow. “You don’t mean that.”
Her laugh is low and humorless. “No, Leo. I do.”
She leans closer. Close enough I can smell her perfume—vanilla and something darker underneath, like smoke and sin.
“You broke me in front of everyone,” she whispers. “And now you want to pick up the pieces?”
“I didn’t know—”
“No. You didn’t look.” Her voice slices clean through me. “You didn’t protect me. You let them humiliate me. Then you disappeared.”
I can’t even lie. She’s right.
“I messed up,” I murmur.
Her brows arch. “Wow. The King admits a mistake. Should I curtsy?”
“Jade…”
She’s already walking away.
I follow. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.” She tosses it over her shoulder. “I’m done listening to boys who think apologies come with interest.”
She kept walking leaving me wanting in her wake. Friday is more of the same. Me following Jade around like a kicked puppy begging his master for a scrap and her ignoring the fuck out of me. “Bro bonfire tonight. You in?”
“I hear the new queen is going…” Tristan smirked.
“Yeah, he’s definitely in then,” Xavier laughed.
I ignored the both, giving them my middle finger as we rolled out of school and toward the weekend.
I didn’t want to be here.
Not tonight. Not after everything.
But Tristan and X wouldn’t shut up about “getting back out there,” claiming the entire school was crawling out of the ruins of homecoming like it didn’t change everything. Like they hadn’t watched me get torched alive in slow motion.
“We need a win, bro. A scene,” Tristan had said after basketball practice, sweat still clinging to his jawline. “You show your face, remind people who you are.”
“I didn’t forget who I am,” I muttered, slamming my locker shut harder than necessary.
X shrugged, cocky as ever. “Then come prove it.”
So here I am, firelight licking the edges of the beach, the whole place buzzing with nervous energy.
I’ve been trying to keep it together—headphones on, workouts early, extra drills, pushing myself in practice until my muscles burn. But nothing’s touching this ache. The space where Jade used to be.
Then I feel it. A shift in the air.
Voices hush. Heads turn.
And I see her.
Bright red lipstick, that new choppy haircut teased to hell, black eyeliner like wings. Tight jeans, leather jacket with fringe catching the wind. She’s not just walking—she’s gliding like she owns the whole damn beach.
My jaw clenches.
X mutters, “Holy. Shit.”
A few guys whistle. One of the football morons brushes her ass with the tips of his fingers like he’s untouchable.
Before I can move, Jade stops, slowly turns to him with that lazy, lethal smile.
“Touch me again,” she says, voice smooth and dangerous, “and I’ll twist your wrist until you scream for your mommy. Sound fun?”
The guy stumbles back, red-faced. A few people snicker.
X claps a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t. Let her have this.”
I’m already halfway to my feet, fists curled. But I stop when her eyes land on mine across the fire.
Direct hit.
She starts walking toward me. No hesitation. No mercy.
She steps between my legs, all attitude and firelight. I can smell her—vanilla and smoke. Her hand cups my face, and for a heartbeat, I think she’s back.
Then her lips are on mine.
Hot. Fast. Perfect.
But it’s over before I can process it.
She pulls back, straightens, her expression flat as stone.
“Confirmed,” she says. “I felt nothing. Not. One. Thing. We are so over. Stop following me around. It’s not attractive.”
Then she turns and struts off like a mic drop in human form.
My heart is a jackhammer in my chest. My mouth is still parted. I can’t move. I can’t breathe.
Around me, the crowd reacts—some muttering, others gaping.
“Burned.”
“Savage.”
“Long live the Queen.”
I’m too stunned to speak.
A few minutes later, I hear her voice ring out clear and unimpressed.
“Lame party. Rich kid beach scene’s dead. Text me when someone throws a real one.”
She tosses her cup into the fire, flicks her fingers in a mock wave, and vanishes into the dark like a storm that came just to destroy me.
I blink. Once. Twice.
Then Tristan whistles low. “Bruh…”
But I already know.
She’s not mine anymore.
And this war?
It’s only just begun.
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes I saw her — not the Jade I used to kiss behind the dunes, soft and shy and trusting — but the Jade who kissed me yesterday like she wanted to end me.
That kiss…
Fuck…
It shot straight through me, lit every nerve on fire, and then she looked me dead in the eyes and walked away like she felt nothing.
Who the hell is she now?
And why does this new version of her make my pulse go insane?
I’m terrified the girl I loved is gone.
I’m terrified something broke in her that I can’t fix.
I’m terrified this new Jade isn’t mine anymore.
And I want answers.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m in my car driving to downtown Newport, heart pounding like I’m about to commit a felony instead of… whatever this is.
Gloria’s Bakery is just opening.
The windows foggy, the smell of fresh bagels drifting out into the cold.
I walk in like a man possessed.
“A dozen cinnamon rolls.”
The girl behind the counter gives me a look like she knows exactly what kind of mistake I’m making.
She packs the boxes anyway.
Aunt Susan’s weakness.
Everyone in this damn town knows it.
I take the boxes and drive straight to Jade’s house.
My hands actually shake when I get out. I hate that.
I should not be shaking.
I should not feel like a fifteen-year-old asking someone to prom.
But here I am.
On her porch.
Box in hand.
I knock.
Nothing.
I knock again.
The deadbolt clicks, and Susan opens the door just a crack. Her hair is pulled up, she’s in a flannel shirt, and she looks like she’s ready to fight an intruder with a frying pan.
Her eyes land on me, then on the box.
“You really think,” she says, slow and unimpressed, “that you can bribe me with baked goods to get to my niece?”