CHAPTER 21: _ THE DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

The laughter still echoes in the hall like smoke after a fire. Her knees burn. Her palms sting. Ink glistens like blood on her ruined uniform. The sting of humiliation hasn’t left her throat. She can still hear Grayson’s voice echoing in her skull "Lick it off." Her tongue curls at the memory in revulsion.

She can see Omegas like her, watching in the background with an equal share of fear in their eyes because they know... they are aware that no better fate awaits them. Some scurry past immediately after Grayson and Morgan left. Others are too scared to even move an inch. As though, they think taking one more step into the Academy is like knocking on trouble’s door.

Just then, the sound of confident footfalls booms through the noise. It’s subtle at first but the effect is instant. Silence sucks the air out of the hallway. Heads turn.

Darien Bellamy.

He strides forward like this whole fiasco is his runway, black blazer slightly swaying, eyes fixated on the broken figure sprawled on the floor. Heidi. Her cheeks burn, streaked with shame and grime. She doesn’t even know where she dropped her dignity. Maybe near Grayson’s left foot.

And then Darien, of all people, crouches. The Devil himself offers her a hand. The students who haven’t dispersed after the exit of Grayson and Morgan gasp.

"I meant what I said," he gives a crook of the corner of his mouth, like she should be grateful. Like she should know better than to question a Bellamy. "You’re under my protection now."

What in the blazing fuck?! Is she seriously saying that right now?! Heidi can’t believe her ears. This bastard has the guts to tell her she’s under his protection.

She stares at his hand like it’s coated in poison. Her eyes narrow, rage flooding into her bloodstream faster than adrenaline.

"Oh, you mean this..." she gestures vaguely to the ink, the bruises, the ripped hem of her skirt, the ache in her spine "...was your idea of protection?"

Her voice is shaking with fury. "Standing there. Watching them toss me around like I’m some chew toy? That’s what you call protection? Are you insane?!" she barks, staggering to her feet on her own. "Watching me get bullied like a punching bag? Is that what you call protection where you’re from? Because where I’m from, people don’t smile when someone’s being publicly destroyed!"

Darien’s face scrunches up like he can’t understand her anger. "How is your business with my brothers any of my problem? I’m to protect you from getting killed, not being bullied. I’m not the reason you’re weak, you are."

Oh, gosh. She just can’t comprehend the heights of his arrogance. He’s crazy! Crazy!

"Oh, bite me," she snaps, and slaps his still extended hand away. "You stood there like some arrogant prick while your brothers humiliated me just because you’re not the reason I’m weak? Is that what you Alphas do? Just enjoy the view when someone’s being crucified?"

He grabs her wrist before she can stagger to her feet. Not roughly, but with a grip firm enough to remind her he’s stronger.

"Most girls," he growls, eyes slicing into hers, "would be giggling out of their minds that I’m even holding them."

Heidi scoffs, yanking free. "Well, I’m not ’most girls.’ And your hands make me want to disinfect my soul, Darien. I’m not some empty-headed omega who fawns over your jawline and pants after your attention like a dog in heat."

"Shame," he mutters, "would’ve been easier that way."

"Get over yourself!"

"I don’t think that’s gonna happen," Darien says matter-of-factly, straightening, and brushing off something from his sleeves like her suffering was just a commercial break.

"Then how about you stay away from me?"

He shrugs, a little too nonchalant. "Look, I get that you’re humiliated, bruised, and emotionally mangled. You’re welcome. But none of that changes the fact that we made a deal. You help me find the traffickers. I keep you alive."

She exhales sharply. "And you call that keeping me alive?"

"I wasn’t going to blow my cover and make my brothers suspicious over some ink on Grayson’s shoes," he says, straightening. "They’re assholes, not murderers. The ones we’re hunting are killers. The real threat is still out there, Heidi. They’ll be looking for you. Today."

She stills because she knows he’s right. Her breath stutters. She hates how fast her fear accelerates. Like a needle to the chest. Every instinct in her screams to run, but where? And there’s something in the way he says it—today

strikes a match in her gut. The heat is gone. Only the fear remains.

"You really think they’ll come for me?" she whispers.

"Think?" He scoffs. "I know."

Her stomach knots.

"So, what now?" she asks. "I’m supposed to just tiptoe around hoping they don’t smell me again?"

"No, but you need to cooperate. Be in the study at the same time as yesterday."

"How am I supposed to do that?" she whispers, eyes flicking nervously toward the hallway crowd still eavesdropping from a distance. "What if they catch me before then?"

Darien exhales, pulls out his phone, and says, "Hand me yours."

She blinks. "What?"

"Your phone. I’ll give you my number."

"I don’t have one."

Darien freezes. "Excuse me?"

"When I was brought into the pack, they didn’t let me take anything." She’s defensive now, folding her arms across her chest even though her elbow’s throbbing.

Darien tilts his head, as if observing a particularly sad insect. "You’re more pathetic than I thought."

"Go choke on a whole cactus," she snaps.

He sucks his teeth and pulls a second phone from his pocket. It’s a matte black thing that probably costs more than her family’s entire yearly rent.

"It’s my backup," he says, holding it out. "Use it. Call me if anything happens. I’ll be there before you know it."

I’ll be there before you know it. Seriously? Could she really trust this douchebag with her life? Could she?