Chapter 32 Thou Shalt Not Expect Warmth from the Cold-Blooded
Thou Shalt Not Expect Warmth from the Cold-Blooded
Arwen
Istumble back into the bathroom, fingers shaking as I peel away the clothes that aren’t me. It’s like they’re made of someone else’s skin—the too-short skirt, the top that made me feel like a walking insecurity—all of it crumpling onto the tile in a pathetic little heap.
The mirror catches me before I can look away.
A girl that I don’t recognize stares back—red-eyed, blotchy, hair trying to escape the pathetic pigtails.
She looks wrecked. She looks… like me.
“What the hell happened to you?” I whisper at my reflection, voice cracking.
Worthless. Useless. My brain chants it like a cruel mantra I can’t escape. Another bond—rejected. Two now.
I yank on my old clothes and shove my things into my bag. My hands won’t stop trembling.
No way am I letting my friends see me like this. They’d take one look at my puffy eyes, ask what happened, and I’d fall apart all over again. I bolt out of the bathroom before the tears can regroup.
My chest keeps tightening, like someone cinching an invisible belt around my ribs. I tell myself to go to my dorm, lock the door, fall apart in private. I’ve handled this chaos before on my own, I can do it again.
But my body has other plans. My feet turn down a different corridor, quickening even as my brain drags behind. I’m barely aware of the walls or the doors blurring by. It’s like something inside me makes the choice for me—quiet, certain, unstoppable.
By the time the fog in my head clears even a little, I’m already standing in front of Brixton’s room.
Universe, please let him be here. I need him.
Not because I’m looking for answers. Not because I think he’ll fix this. I just need something solid to hold onto before I shatter completely.
My hand hovers over his door. My heart is a drum in my chest, loud enough that I feel like the whole dorm could hear it. And when I finally knock, it’s barely a whisper: “Brix… please…”
I wait. And wait.
I knock harder. And finally, the door opens, but his frown is like a wall between us.
“Arwen… what’s wrong?” His voice is cautious, tired.
“I… I needed to see you,” I say, voice shaking. “I’m trying to keep it together. Everything’s too much right now. Can I stay here? Just for a little while?”
He blinks at me, like he’s seeing through me—or maybe right into the chaos I’ve become. “Arwen… whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. I mean… maybe you should just go get some sleep.”
I laugh, sharp and broken.
“Sleep? Brix, I’m spiraling—” My words dissolve into sobs. “I don’t know what is happening to me. It feels like something inside me is broken. Broken more than even before. I feel worthless. No sin power, STILL. I’m… nothing. And I’m going to be exiled.”
He looks nervous, and why wouldn’t he be? All I bring is problems and chaos.
I can see the battle in his eyes. He reaches out to me but then, pulls back. Shaking his head and straightening his face.
“Arwen, I’ve been trying to help you… every day, but it’s… it’s too much. I need to just step away from this for a little bit. My grades are slipping. I can’t afford… ”
I press my hands to my face, trying to steady the shaking that absolutely refuses to chill. “Brix… gods, I’m sorry,” I breathe out, the words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t— I didn’t realize I was dragging everyone down with me.”
My throat tightens, panic bubbling up again.
“But I can fix it. I will fix it. I can even tutor you—like I do for Maddox. I’ll do whatever you need, just…” I look up at him, desperate. “Just don’t push me away right now. I kind of… really need you.”
He steps back, his voice sharp but eyes sympathetic in conflict.
“No. I can’t right now, Arwen. I need a break. This is too heavy. I’ve been trying to keep you afloat and it’s… it’s pulling me under, too. I can’t keep doing this. Not anymore.”
His words slam into me so hard my lungs forget how to work. Too much. Of course. That’s me—always a problem. The universe’s favorite mistake.
“Brix… please,” I whisper, the crack in my voice giving me away before the tears do.
“Maybe…” He flinches, a flash of something—anger? regret?—in his eyes. “Maybe you should go see Ryker.”
The words drip with jealousy I didn’t expect. “Maybe he’s the only one who can help you. He’s powerful. He can do more than I can. I’m done.”
I stumble back, chest tight, eyes wide. “But why? I thought we were friends. I thought…”
His jaw tightens, the conflict in his eyes raw and human. “I thought so too. I still do. But I can’t get involved right now. Not if it destroys me, Arwen. Not if it destroys my future. You have to understand. I… I just can’t.”
I press my palms to my knees, trying to stop from collapsing. I’m losing one of my best friends. My biggest support system.
“I’m sorry Arwen,” he says softly. And with that he closes the door in my face.
Something buckles inside my chest—sharp and quick, like a string snapping where I didn’t know one was tied. I turn away. Each step feels wrong, like the ground’s turned to gravel, like I’m walking away from something I shouldn’t but can’t hold onto.
By the time I leave his floor, the few tears that managed to escape have dried in tight, salty tracks, but the hollow they carved stays wide open. My breath feels thin. My hands keep curling and uncurling, like they’re searching for something to grip that isn’t there.
The corridor stretches ahead—cold floors, washed-out lights, the kind of quiet that makes you hear your own heartbeat too loudly. And right there in the echo of it, Brixton’s words slither back in:
Maybe you should go see Ryker.
His name hits harder than I want it to. I bite my lip until it stings. Ryker—the boy who steadies me without trying, who looks at me like I’m something other than a cosmic error. I don’t want to drag him into this mess. I don’t want to be another problem he has to solve.
But I feel like I’m falling fast, breathless, grasping at air. And right now he’s the only thing my mind reaches for.
The Greed tower rises in the distance like it’s daring the sky to knock it down. The closer I get, the more the air changes.
The lift doors slide open, and I step inside, gripping the rails as it lurches upward. My pulse trips over itself. All I can think about is the last time I was here—the date, the rooftop, the way Ryker casually mentioned we were passing his room.
The higher the lift climbs, the easier it is to breathe. Not fully—just enough that my ribs don’t feel like they’re caving in. If I could just see him… even for a minute… maybe the world would stop tilting.
When did I become so dependent? I guess when the universe gifted me four bonds that hate me and no sin powers.
The hallway appears, sleek and golden and stupidly fancy. His door isn’t even five steps away. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to knock, to do something besides stand here.
I pull in a slow breath, straighten my shirt, try to look like a human being and not a walking meltdown. My hand lifts toward the door—
Laughter spills through the crack beneath it. Loud. Easy. Too many voices. Definitely not just his.
Ryker has company.
For a second, I almost knock anyway—just shove my way into whatever party Greed boys throw on a Thursday night. But then a word slips through the door, sharp enough to cut the air.
“Sinless.”
My whole body goes still.
Sinless. Me. They’re talking about me.
Curiosity claws at me and before I can talk myself out of it, I lean in, pressing my ear to the door. The wood is warm.
Ryker’s laugh rolls out again, loud and careless, and my heart lurches like it’s trying to climb out of my chest.
“No, really, how far have you gotten with the Sinless?” someone asks, their tone dripping with amusement, like I’m a joke passed around the room.
A knot twists hard in my stomach.
Then Ryker’s voice floats through—smooth, self-satisfied, the exact voice he uses when he knows everyone is watching him and he loves it. He sounds like he’s smiling. Like he’s winning.
“Oh, she’s deep in my pocket,” he says, almost casually.
In his pocket? My brain stutters. What does that even mean?
“Dad’s super pleased,” Ryker says, smug, “Might even snag me another Ferrari out of this. She’s right where I want her—dependent, desperate, needy.” He laughs, low and satisfied, like he’s talking about a deal he already closed. The words slice through me.
My chest tightens. I want to scream and pound on his door. I also want to run, get out of here. But I can’t. I’m rooted, like the weight of the entire Academy is pressing me down.
“Seriously,” one of his friends chimes in, a chuckle hidden in their voice. “You’ve got her wrapped around your finger, huh?”
Ryker leans back, laughter smooth and dark, effortless. “Better yet—she trusts me more than anyone at this school. Every move, every step she takes… soon, it’ll all bend to me. Making her dependent? Child’s play.”
I barely register his words. Dependent? Following? My stomach twists, sharp and sickening, and for a heartbeat I feel like I might collapse right there. My hands clench, fingers white against my thighs, trying to ground myself.
“And the best part,” he says, grinning at his friends, “she thinks she’s in control, thinks she’s clever… and I just let her spin. I can’t help it—watching her try so hard? It’s ridiculously entertaining.”
Air catches in my throat. My fists dig into my sides until my knuckles ache. Every word. Every move. All of it. Ryker… this isn’t the boy I thought I knew. It can’t be. Why? Why me?
“Your dad said she has a 100% power rating? She’ll be a super powerful pawn if she comes into her powers.” Another voice says.
Someone closer to the door laughs harshly, “That’s a big IF. She’s done nothing.”
Ryker’s voice drops lower, more dangerous. “Not that it matters. If she doesn’t develop a sin power soon, the academy will kick her out. She can’t be a pawn or a threat if she’s gone.”
Gone. The word slams into me like a fist. My knees buckle, fingers digging into the wall to keep from collapsing. My chest heaves, my stomach twists, and every stupid hope I’d clung to, every whispered promise, every laugh, every damn inch of trust—I feel it snap in one brutal moment.
The dates, the moments that felt real, the stupid little “you’ve got me” promises… all of it a joke. A lie. And I’m the punchline.
I stumble back, gagging on the betrayal, mind working to process. He’s been… using me? Every second, every choice I thought was mine… just a move on his damn board.
I can’t even cry. My body feels heavy, like someone has poured lead into my veins. My worst fear isn’t just that I’m powerless—it’s that I’ve been used. That every effort I made to matter… never mattered at all.
The thought slices through me. If I stay here. I’m done. I’ll be erased.
The panic hits fast, hot and acidic, crawling up my throat. His laughter and his friends’ voices blur into a sickening hum behind the door. My vision swims, and for a second I feel myself slipping—falling back into that spiraling pit where everything hurts and nothing makes sense.
But then— No.
No more.
I grit my teeth and force a breath into my lungs even though everything inside me screams to fall apart.
I will not be exiled. I will not let them erase me.
Not Ryker. Not this Academy. Not anyone.
My hands shake, but I peel myself away from the door anyway. Step by step. Like ripping myself out of quicksand.
I’m tired of letting people decide my worth. Tired of trusting the wrong ones. Tired of depending on anyone but myself.
My heart still hammers, my eyes still burn, but a cold clarity cuts through the panic like a blade.
Get it together, Arwen. Make a plan. Move.
Survive.
Because if no one else is going to save me— then I damn well will.