Chapter 22 New Hair, Who This?
By Monday morning, the buzz is already alive in the air before I even set foot inside Blackmoore’s grand hall.
It starts the second I walk out the dorms. A low hum of whispers, stares that stick longer than usual, heads turning in small clusters like a wave rolling across the courtyard.
For once, I’m not hiding behind oversized hoodies or a tangled bun.
I scan over myself in the mirror. My hair down, bold, wavy, and freshly black with streaks of silver that shimmer in the light when I move.
A new cut frames my face just enough to bring out the sharpness in my cheekbones and the steel behind my storm-blue eyes.
The color contrast also making them pop.
There’s a touch of makeup — subtle, smoky — not to impress anyone, just enough to stand out.
I walk the halls head held high, shoulders square.
The dining hall is already full when I walk in. Same murmurs. Same stares. But this time, they feel different. Not pity. Not mockery.
Curiosity. Power.
I head toward the same table where Dakota and her friends are waiting. They shower me with compliments. I smile.
And then they walk in.
Blackmoore’s golden four, dragging everyone’s attention with them like gravity. But for once, they’re not the center of it.
I am.
I don’t even have to look up to know they see me. It’s in the sudden stop of movement, the hitch in footsteps.
Then Luca’s voice, smooth and amused, cuts through the space.
“Well, well. Who let the storm in?”
I glance up just enough to catch him staring. There's a pause. His eyes flick over me and he whistles low under his breath. “Didn’t know Blackmoore had models now.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I say, buttering a piece of toast.
“Good,” he replies, mouth tugging into a grin. “But damn if it doesn’t look good on you anyway.”
Tex gives me one of those unreadable looks from across the table, clearly still recalibrating. Something’s shifted and he’s not sure if he likes it or if he respects it too much to admit it.
Noah tips his head. “Bold move,” he says. “But it suits you.”
Then there’s Jace.
Standing behind them, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Those ice-blue eyes locked on mine, trying to dissect me. For a beat too long, he just stares.
“New look. Same dirty mouth.” he says.
He turns away, sliding into his seat without another word. I smile to myself, just slightly. Because they can all feel it. Something’s changing.
And they don’t know what to do about it.
“Hey,” a voice says, warm, a little nervous. “Isobel, right?”
I turn. He’s cute — in that boy-next-door way, all golden skin and floppy blond hair, a dimple starting to show when he smiles. He’s not wearing the uniform blazer, just the button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“Yeah,” I say, cautiously.
“I’m River,” he offers, brushing a hand through his hair. “We’re in Advanced Lit. together. I sit two rows back.”
Right. The guy who actually takes notes. I give a half nod. “Okay.”
He glances around, shuffling his feet. “I was wondering—um, there’s this little café in town, they’ve got open mic nights and live music and all that. I thought maybe… would you wanna go sometime? With me?”
For a moment, the world tips sideways.
Not because he asked, but because of the four annoying assholes eavesdropping. Four distinct reactions hit me at once.
Jace. Still as a statue, like he’s already decided this guy’s beneath him.
Tex. Crossed arms, unreadable. But he looks ready to take someone out.
Maybe River. Noah. Raised eyebrows and that twitchy analytical look, like he wants to pull out a whiteboard and diagram what’s happening.
And Luca… smiling like he already knows how this ends, even if I don’t.
I could say no. That would be the easy way out. Keep the waters calm. Don’t poke the wolves.
But where’s the fun in that?
I shift my stance and let my lips curve into a small smile. “Sure,” I say. “I’d like that.”
River grins. “Awesome. I’ll message you?”
“Looking forward to it.”
He waves awkwardly before heading off, probably rehearsing a victory dance the second he’s out of sight.
Jace looks like he could snap someone in half.
Tex isn’t moving, but his eyes burn.
I turn and keep walking, smiling smugly to myself.
I’m in the common lounge off the east hall, pretending to scroll through my tablet while I wait for Dakota.
The space is mostly quiet — sun spilling across the marble in lazy gold stripes, a few voices murmuring from a table tucked in the corner.
My hair’s down again today, waves loose around my face, and I’ve finally gotten used to the new weight of people looking.
Which is why I don’t jump when I feel someone slide into the seat across from me. Luca has a presence that’s hard to miss. That faint smell of cedar and spice, the hint of smug confidence that walks into the room three seconds before he does.
“Isobel,” he drawls, like we’re old friends with shared secrets. Maybe we are, now.
“Luca.” I don’t look up right away, but I let him hear the edge in my voice. “Slumming it in the commoners’ lounge?”
His laugh is a soft, rich sound. “Can’t a guy seek out the woman who dragged him back from death’s doorstep?”
I glance up at him. “You weren’t dying.”
“I was bleeding out on a speeding truck with prototype weapons strapped to my back,” he says, placing a hand over his heart. “Pretty sure that qualifies.”
I snort, but the image flashes too clearly — him on the roof of that transport, the way his body buckled, my hands slick with his blood while I put pressure on his shoulder in the van, how his body slumped when he passed out.
He smiles when I don’t answer, something quieter in his eyes now. “You know, you didn’t have to save me.”
“I know,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
“But you did.”
I shrug, throat tight. “Don’t read into it. I’m never in the mood to watch anyone die.”
His gaze sharpens. “You were shaking.”
I look away, jaw clenching. “So were you.”
He chuckles again, this time a little softer. “Touché.”
Then he leans forward, bracing his arms on his knees, his voice dipping low and intimate. “So… you said yes to River.”
I roll my eyes. “Did you come here to check my calendar?”
“No,” he says, smiling with all teeth. “I came to figure out why you’d waste a night on him… when you could be spending it with me.”
I blink. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
“You—” I stop, shaking my head with a breathy laugh. “You were unconscious a few days ago.”
“And now I’m sitting here, alive and intrigued.”
I narrow my eyes. “You tormented me. Played a part in things that—” I swallow. “Things you can’t take back.”
“I never pretended to be good,” he says. “But I’m not here to pretend. I’m here because you’re the most interesting part of this place — and because you looked insane on that roof. Brave. Furious.” His eyes flicker with something sharp. “Beautiful.”
A lump rises in my throat before I can stop it. I look away again. “River doesn’t play games.”
“River doesn’t even know the rules.” Luca leans back, draping one arm over the back of the couch. “But I do. I know every angle, every move. You think he’s going to understand you? See you? He’ll run the second it gets complicated.”
“And you won’t?” I ask.
Luca’s smile fades just slightly. “I’ve already seen complicated. And I’m still here.”
That silence stretches between us, humming like a live wire.
I break it with a dry laugh. “Thanks for the unsolicited commentary.”
He grins again — but there’s something softer at the edges. “Anytime, baby. Just remember — when he inevitably bores you with his acoustic covers and awkward hand placement, you know where to find me.”
And then he’s gone, vanishing down the hall like he didn’t just mess with the entire chemical makeup of my bloodstream.
I’m halfway to my next class when a hand wraps around my arm and yanks me into an alcove. The hall is crowded, but no one seems to notice. I frown, my hackles are up and I’m ready to fight.
Not this asshole again.
His jaw is tight and his icy eyes burn into mine. I’m honestly surprised his back teeth haven’t cracked with all that pressure he puts on them.
“What the hell is your endgame?” he spits.
I yank my arm free from his grasp. “Good morning to you, too.”
He takes a step closer, all expensive cologne and fury. “You’ve been here what? Three months? And somehow, you’ve managed to screw everything up. You’re poison.” His eyes narrow.
My spine stiffens. “Excuse me?”
“Do you need me to say it again for you because you’re slow? Did your stepdaddy hit you too many times in the head? Or was it the lack of oxygen when you were on your knees for him?”
I raise my hand and slap him across the face so fast I don’t even realize until after I’ve done it.
“Fuck you.” I move to step aside and walk away from him, but he grabs my arm and slams me back up against the wall.
“You fucking hit me,” he spits in my face.
“You deserve it.” I glare back at him.
We seem to enter some unspoken glaring match that I’m determined to win.
“I don’t understand what they see in you,” Jace says.
“What are you even talking about?”
“Tex is rebelling. Luca won’t shut up about you. And Noah—” His jaw clenches tighter. “They’re supposed to have my back, but all of them are tripping over themselves for you. You are ruining everything.”
I blink once, tilting my head. “Sounds like a you problem.”
His nostrils flare.
“I didn’t ask for any of them to like me, or even talk to me. In fact, I’ve done everything I can to stay the hell out of their way. Maybe they’re just tired of being your minions.”
He scoffs, but I don’t miss the flicker of something behind his eyes.
“You think you’re special? You think that you are different than all the other pussy walking around these halls? Let me break it down for you. You’re not. Just another girl with the same shit between her legs.”
My blood boils and ringing begins in my ears.