JAY'S POV
The Fernandez house smelled like coffee and clean floors.
I noticed that first—because it was wrong.
Places like this weren't supposed to feel… normal.
The door closed behind me, and the sound echoed too loud in my head. I kept my hands in my hoodie sleeves, even though the bandages were already visible. Dried blood cracked when I moved my fingers. I didn't bother hiding it.
If they wanted a monster, I'd let them see one.
I lifted my head.
The first person I registered was Angelo.
He didn't speak. Didn't react. Just watched me the way predators watch unfamiliar territory—calculating, assessing threat levels. His silence wasn't empty. It was deliberate. Controlled.
Mafia vibes, my brain supplied automatically.
Interesting.
He saw the injuries. The stance. The way my weight was balanced, ready to move if needed. I knew he knew. People like him always did.
From the stairs, I felt it before I saw it.
Hostility.
I looked up.
Aries.
He didn't hide it. The tight jaw. The narrowed eyes. The way his gaze slid over me like I was something he'd already decided to hate.
Ah.
So this was the one who thought I was stealing something from him.
Figures.
Before I could say anything, Tita Gema was in front of me.
Her hands touched my face like they'd always known where I was. Gentle. Careful. No flinching. No fear. Just concern that cut deeper than any punch I'd taken that night.
"You're hurt," she said softly.
"I've been worse," I replied.
She didn't scold me. Didn't sigh. Didn't ask questions she knew I wouldn't answer.
Instead, she pulled me into a hug.
And I—
I froze.
Because I wasn't used to being held without conditions.
"Welcome home, Jay," she whispered.
Home.
The word hit harder than the fight did.
I stared over her shoulder.
Angelo was still watching. Sharp eyes. Guarded. Like he'd already clocked me as something dangerous but hadn't decided yet whether I was a threat or an ally.
Aries had turned away.
Good.
Hate was easier than pity.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my body to relax even though every instinct screamed to stay ready. They didn't need to know how much damage I could do. They didn't need to know about JJM Group, or the calls waiting on my phone, or the men who answered to my name without ever seeing my face.
To them, I was just—
A broken girl.
A violent one.
A problem they'd agreed to take in.
Let them believe that.
Because monsters survived longer when no one knew how sharp their teeth were.
Dinner was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that wasn't peaceful—just tense enough to make you count movements. Forks scraping plates. Glasses being set down carefully. I sat with my sleeves pulled low, bandages hidden again, back straight, eyes down.
Across the table, Angelo ate like everything was a calculation. Precise. Unhurried. Like he already knew how the night would end.
Aries didn't look at me once.
Tita Gema kept glancing at me, like she was afraid I'd disappear if she didn't keep checking I was still there.
I was halfway through my food when Angelo finally spoke.
"You'll be attending HVIS starting tomorrow."
I looked up slowly.
Of course I would.
"Same school as him," he added, eyes flicking briefly toward Aries.
Aries's fork paused mid-air.
I didn't react. I'd learned long ago that reactions were currency—and I didn't give those away for free.
"With your record," Angelo continued calmly, "there wasn't much room for negotiation."
Ah. There it was.
"You've been placed in Section E."
The words settled heavy in my chest.
Section E.
The dumping ground.The problem class.
Where they put students they'd already given up on.I knew it because well I had someone look into it ughh it was ALOT....
Across from me, Aries let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Figures," he muttered. "That's where trash goes."
Tita Gema shot him a warning look. "Aries."
I lifted my gaze to him then.
Really looked.
He was angry. Not smug. Not cruel—just burning with something he didn't know where to put. Good. Anger made people sloppy.
"Section E?" I said evenly, turning back to Angelo. "That all?"
Angelo studied me for a moment longer than necessary.
Most people flinched at that placement. Fought it. Begged.
I didn't.
"Yes," he said finally. "That's all."
I nodded once. "Fine."
Aries stared at me now. "You don't care?"
I met his eyes.
"I've been in worse places than classrooms," I said quietly.
Silence slammed down on the table.
Angelo's lips pressed into a thin line—not disapproval. Interest.
Tita Gema reached for my hand under the table, squeezing gently.
"You'll be okay," she whispered.
I squeezed back once.
I would be more than okay.
They didn't know that Section E was exactly where people stopped watching closely. Where assumptions ran wild. Where no one looked twice.
And that made it the perfect place to disappear—
Or to take control...
Morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
I didn't sleep much. Didn't need to. My body was used to functioning on scraps of rest and caffeine and adrenaline. By the time the sky outside my window started turning grey, I was already standing in front of the mirror.
The HVIS uniform stared back at me like a challenge.
I adjusted it.
The skirt sat a little higher than regulation—just enough to annoy the administration. The top button of my shirt stayed undone, the collar relaxed. I loosened the tie and looped it around my neck instead of wearing it properly.
Rules were suggestions. I'd learned that early.
I pulled on high black leather boots, laced tight, solid enough to kick or run if I had to. The bandages were gone, replaced with thin black wraps—cleaner, quieter, but still there.
I didn't look like a student.
I looked like a warning.
I grabbed my phone, slid it into my pocket, and picked up my McLaren keys from the dresser. The weight of them was familiar. Comforting.
Downstairs, the house was already awake.
The dining table was set neatly. Coffee steamed. Plates clinked softly.
Tita Gema looked up first.
Her smile was immediate. Genuine. "Good morning, Jay."
"Morning," I said, pulling out a chair.
Angelo was already seated, dressed sharply as always. His eyes flicked to me once—taking in the uniform, the boots, the posture. No comment. Just a faint narrowing of his gaze.
Not disapproval.
Assessment.
Aries walked in last.
He stopped when he saw me.
Really saw me.
His eyes dragged over the skirt, the tie, the boots, the confidence I wore like armor. His jaw tightened.
"You're really going dressed like that?" he scoffed.
I took a sip of coffee, unbothered. "Relax. I'm covered."
"Section E isn't a runway," he snapped.
I leaned back in my chair, meeting his glare calmly. "Good. I hate walking."
Angelo let out a quiet breath through his nose—almost a laugh. Almost.
"Eat," he said shortly. "You'll need the energy."
I stood instead.
"I'm good."
Tita Gema frowned slightly. "Jay—"
"I'll grab something on the way," I said gently, squeezing her shoulder as I passed. "Promise."
I headed for the door.
Behind me, Aries muttered, "She thinks she owns the place."
I paused, hand on the handle.
"No," I said without turning around. "I just don't ask for permission."
The door shut behind me.
Outside, the air was cool. Sharp. Alive.
I unlocked the McLaren, slid into the driver's seat, and started the engine. It purred under my hands like it recognized me.
HVIS.Section E.Fifteen boys.One president.
I smiled faintly as I pulled out of the driveway.
Let them think I was walking into a cage.
I'd always been better at turning cages into kingdoms...
The McLaren turned heads before I even parked it.
Low engine. Clean lines. The kind of car that didn't belong in a student lot—and that was exactly the point. I slid it into a space near the entrance, killed the engine, and stepped out without looking back.
Silence rippled.
Then the whispers started.
I felt them as I walked through the gates—eyes dragging over my boots, the skirt, the way I moved like the ground adjusted itself for me. Students slowed. Some stopped outright. Even a few teachers hesitated mid-step, frowns forming as they tried to place me.
Who is she?
New transfer?
That car—
Is she even allowed to—
I didn't rush.
I didn't need to.
The Section E building sat apart from the rest of the campus like it had been quarantined. Older. Rougher. Windows barred. Walls scarred with things no one bothered to clean anymore.
The closer I got, the louder the murmurs grew.
Girls stared openly.
Boys nudged each other.
Teachers watched with that familiar mix of suspicion and resignation.
Poor thing.
Trouble already.
She won't last a week.
I ramped up the front steps instead of walking them, boots striking concrete sharp and deliberate. The door creaked open like it wasn't used to being touched gently.
Inside, the air changed.
Thicker. Louder. Charged.
Conversations stalled one by one.
Fifteen heads turned.
All boys.
Every single one of them looked at me like I was a glitch in the system—something that wasn't supposed to exist here.
I scanned the room calmly, taking everything in: desks pushed back, knuckles taped, bruises worn like badges. This wasn't a classroom.
It was a hierarchy.
And at the center—
I felt him before I saw him.
Whoever ran this place had gravity.
I stepped forward anyway.
Let them whisper. Let them stare. Let the teachers panic.
Because the moment I crossed into Section E, the rules they lived by were already breaking.
And they just didn't know it yet...