Dylan reached them, his face devoid of any warmth or residual softness—only a tight, unhappy line to his mouth and a coldness in his eyes that made Amelia’s stomach twist.
"Leave."
The single word was directed at Kate. Kate’s eyes flicked to Amelia, full of quiet concern, her body tensing as if she might refuse.
Amelia managed a small nod, her throat too tight for words. "Just... wait for me."
Kate hesitated only a second longer, then stepped back several paces—close enough to intervene, far enough to give them the illusion of privacy. Her arms crossed over her chest, watching like a sentinel.
Dylan’s gaze locked on Amelia the moment they were alone, and something in his expression shifted—hardened into something almost accusatory.
"What did you do?" He asked sharply. "Why are you still alive? What deal did you make with those devils that you’re standing here breathing, walking around like nothing happened?"
Amelia’s fingers tightened around the water bottle, the plastic creaking under the pressure. "Is that all you have to say?" Her voice came out thin, frayed at the edges. "After the betrayal? After the embarrassment you put me through? After I stood there in front of everyone and watched you marry my best friend?"
"Don’t take it to heart." He shrugged, almost dismissive. "I wasn’t expecting to see you at the wedding. You weren’t supposed to be there. You were supposed to be—" He stopped himself,.
Supposed to be dead.
"How could you do this to me?" The words forced their way out, tears already burning at the edges of her vision. She blinked hard, refusing to let them fall freely. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. "How could you stand there and say those vows to her when you knew—when you knew—"
"I did nothing wrong." His voice was flat. "I made a choice. The right choice. For me, for my future, for everything I’ve worked for."
"You wanted me dead." Her voice cracked. "Is that how much you hated me? You couldn’t just dump me and let me go? You had to want me dead? You—"
She stopped herself.
Dylan’s mouth curved into something cold and almost proud. "Do you really think you would have let me go if I had simply dumped you?" He took a step closer, and she forced herself not to retreat. "You would still be clinging. Still begging. Still showing up at my door with those pathetic, desperate eyes. I know how much you love me." His voice dropped, almost intimate in its cruelty. "You still do. I can see it. I can feel it."
The words landed like open-handed blows, each one striking a different bruise. Amelia’s chest tightened, her ribs feeling too small for the organ struggling inside them.
He’s right. He’s right, and that’s the worst part. I did love him. I still—no. No, I don’t. I can’t. Not after everything.
"What do you want?" she managed to say. "Why did you even approach me? To humiliate me more? To make sure I know my place now that you’ve moved on to someone ’better suited’?"
"Yes." His answer came without remorse. "And to give you a stern warning. Stay away from me." He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne—the same one he’d worn for years, the one that used to make her feel safe. Now it just made her nauseous. "I’m married now—to a woman far better suited for me. A woman who knows her place. A woman who doesn’t embarrass me in front of my family. Stay away from me, Amelia. Stay away from Jade. Stay away from everything that is mine."
Amelia’s shoulders straightened a fraction, a small act of defiance that cost her more than she wanted to admit.
"Done."
Dylan blinked, clearly not expecting that single, flat word. His eyes narrowed, searching her face for the lie he was certain he’d find.
"Done?"
"Done." She repeated, letting the word hang between them. "You want me to stay away? Fine. You want nothing to do with me? Fine. You made your choice the moment you choose you wanted me dead adn—" She stopped again, swallowing hard. " I’m done with you, done with everything you represent."
His eyes narrowed further, suspicion flickering behind the cold. "How did the devils spare your life? What did you give them? What did you promise?"
"I guess I was just lucky." She forced the words out evenly, her face a careful mask of indifference. "Or the moon goddess saw how pitiful my life had become and decided to throw me a bone."
Telling him i am actually their mistress, is giving him an ultimatum over me.
Dylan’s lip curled in disdain. "The much better solution for you is to leave this college. Relocate somewhere a thousand miles away. Disappear. Start over somewhere no one knows your name, no one knows what you’ve done, no one knows the kind of desperate, pathetic woman you really are."
A hollow laugh slipped from Amelia’s throat, bitter and broken. "Do you think I have that kind of freedom just because I’m still alive? Do you think I can just pack up and leave?" She laughed again, sharper this time. "You’re the reason my life is hanging by a thread. Everything that’s happened—every terrible, horrible thing—it all traces back to you. To your choices. To your cruelty."
"That’s your fault, not mine." His voice was ice. "I didn’t force you to love me. I didn’t force you to do stupid, crazy things for me. That was all you. That desperate, pathetic need to be chosen—that’s yours. Own it."
Amelia turned her face away, unable to look at him any longer. "Leave me alone. This conversation is over. There’s nothing more to say."
His hand shot out, fingers closing hard around her upper arm—tight enough to bruise and make her gasp.
"Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you." His eyes dragged over her face with open contempt. "Look at how pale you are. You’re ten times uglier than before. Those white strands—" He reached out, fingers brushing the silver-white threads in her hair with mocking tenderness. "Already growing white hair? Turning old already? You look like a ghost. Like you’re already halfway to the grave."
He’s not wrong. I do look like a ghost. I feel like one. Half-dead, half-alive, trapped in between.
His grip tightened. Pain flared under his fingers, radiating up her arm and into her shoulder. Amelia tried to pull free, her body tensing against the pressure.
"Stop—"
He didn’t. He seemed to enjoy the way she winced. The corner of his mouth twitched.
"Still so weak. Still so easy to break."
A sudden, aggressive roar of an engine cut through the courtyard. Students scattered, some yelping as a sleek black sports car drifted into a sharp stop only a few meters away, tires screeching against the stone.
The driver’s door opened.
The few people still nearby froze, then quickly moved in any direction that put distance between them and the man stepping out. The courtyard seemed to empty in seconds, as if a switch had been flipped.
Amelia and Dylan both turned toward the sound.
Her heart leapt straight into her throat.
Reid closed the car door with a casual click and started walking toward them, long strides unhurried, that familiar charming half-smile already in place—though his eyes were anything but soft.