I was born with a storm in my blood. In my world, if you clip my wings, I’ll burn your whole forest down. That’s just the math of it. But growing up, my parents and my brother treated me like a piece of fragile porcelain. They smothered me with so much love and indulgence that my temper never had a chance to breathe. I was a weapon with no war to fight. Until I turned eighteen and enrolled at Beaumont Academy—a playground for the elite, the entitled, and the downright sociopathic. The school’s "Golden Girl," a girl named Lexi Montgomery, made a sport out of destroying reputations. Her favorite move was photoshopping the scholarship girls into compromising, naked positions to ensure her own "purity" shone even brighter. I didn't waste time with a dialogue. I smashed her iPhone into the marble floor, ripped the designer silk off her back, and let the entire student body see exactly what she was made of. Naturally, her pet thug and the school’s star quarterback, Brantley Pierce, didn't take it well. He and his goons cornered me in the girl’s locker room, water buckets in hand. He grabbed me by the hair, forcing my head back, demanding I beg Lexi for forgiveness. I didn't beg. I kicked him squarely in the groin with enough force to make his ancestors feel it. While he was doubled over, I dragged him into the stalls and shoved a filth-caked mop—the kind that had seen years of locker room grime—directly into his mouth. He passed out from the shock and the stench. I filmed the whole thing and posted it to the school’s private server. I thought that would be the end of it. I didn't expect the Guidance Counselor to be even stupider than the students. Mrs. Gable was firmly in the pockets of the wealthy parents. She looked at me like I was a stain on her carpet, claiming I was the aggressor. Her "punishment"? A five-hundred-page handwritten apology and an order to kneel on the gravel of the track field while reciting it over a megaphone. "You want me to grovel?" I asked, my voice dangerously low. I didn't wait for her answer. I grabbed her by the hair and slammed her forehead against the mahogany desk. Again. And again. "Who do you think you’re talking to?" I hissed. "Do you honestly think your little titles mean a damn thing to me?" ... 1 "You’re psychotic! You laid hands on a faculty member! I’ll have you expelled before the sun sets!" Mrs. Gable was screaming, clutching her bleeding forehead. "You told me to grovel and apologize, didn't you?" I wiped a stray drop of blood off my knuckle. "You just didn't specify whose head should be hitting the floor." I tossed her aside like a piece of yesterday’s trash. Looking at her pale, trembling face, a cold laugh bubbled up in my chest. These people spent their lives crushing the weak, but the second someone handed them their own medicine, they crumbled. Brantley, recovered and fuming, suddenly grabbed a heavy crystal vase from the desk and hurled it at my head. I ducked, but a shard grazed my temple. A flicker of sick satisfaction danced in his eyes when he saw the red streak on my skin. "Listen to me, Kit. This is Beaumont," Brantley spat, stepping into my space. "Scholarship rats like you are here for one reason: to be our footstools. How dare you push back?" He lunged, throwing a heavy punch into my stomach. I took the hit, the air leaving my lungs for a split second. "Your parents probably sold their souls just to get you in here," he sneered, leaning down to my ear. "If you want to stay, you’re going to bring them here. They can kneel on the gravel with you." I didn't let him finish. I caught his wrist, twisted it until the bone groaned, and stomped my boot onto his foot with a sickening crunch. He let out a strangled wheeze. Apologize? To them? They didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as my parents. If Brantley Pierce knew even a fraction of who my father was, he’d be hyperventilating. I was about to give them a reality check when Lexi Montgomery let out a sharp, mocking laugh. She picked up my student file from the floor, flipping through it with manicured nails and a look of pure disdain. "Parents’ background: Classified?" Lexi looked me up and down. "Please. That’s just code for 'white trash.' Your dad’s probably a low-level tweaker and your mom’s a back-alley pro. That explains why you have no manners. You don't understand how the world works, Kit." She stepped closer, her eyes glittering with malice. "Do you have any idea who our families are? Brantley’s father and mine are two of the three primary trustees of this entire institution. You didn't just break a rule. You hit a brick wall." A brick wall? To me, they weren't even toothpicks. The "scholarship student" label was just a cloak my parents had draped over me. My family didn't just have money; we owned the school. We were the majority shareholders. My parents had opened the doors to underprivileged students as a way to give back, but lately, rumors had reached us—rumors of scholarship kids disappearing, of "suicides" that didn't make sense. My parents sent me here to burn out the rot. And Lexi had made it easy for me by posting those fake nudes of me on the first day, calling me the school’s "communal toy." "I really wonder if you guys use your brains for anything other than hairspray storage," I said, tilting my head. Lexi’s face contorted. She whipped out her phone and started sobbing into the receiver. "Dad! There’s a girl—a scholarship student—she’s attacking us! You need to find out who her parents are. Right now. I want them ruined. I want them at the bottom of the Atlantic!" She hung up, looking at me like she’d already won. I just smirked. "Your dad? He isn't fit to shine my father's shoes." "You little bitch!" she screamed. Brantley tried to swing at me again. I parried, sent him back to the floor, and planted my heel firmly on his chest. My stomach still throbbed from his punch, and my patience was gone. "Still hungry, Brantley? Or should I go back to the stalls and get you a second helping of that mop?" Lexi started laughing, a high-pitched, hysterical sound. "You’re dead, Kit! You’re so dead! My father is sending his security team. And Brantley’s dad won't let this go. You’ve destroyed your life." I shrugged, the corner of my mouth twitching upward. "Good. Bring them all. I’d love to see them all grovel at once." 2 Lexi helped Brantley up, her hands shaking with rage. "You think you’re tough because you can fight? You bullied us. You bullied Mrs. Gable! Her husband is the reigning champion of our family’s underground fight club. When they’re done beating your parents into the dirt, we’ll see if you still have that smart mouth." "I’m the bully?" I asked. The audacity was almost impressive. There were three girls in the infirmary right now who Lexi had pushed down a flight of stairs last month. They still hadn't woken up. "Yes! You’re a monster! I can only imagine the kind of filth that raised you." My parents sent me here precisely because they knew I didn't have a "forgive and forget" bone in my body. I was their retribution. I remembered when I was ten. An uncle had tried to embezzle from my father and suggested I be sent away to "boarding school" so he could replace me with his own daughter. I ended that dream by kicking a heavy door into his face, nearly blinding him. When I was twelve, a kidnapper grabbed me from a park. I didn't cry; I bit his ear off and waited for the police to find him. My parents were often away on business, and my older brother, Sebastian, was too gentle for our world. He was the kind of person who apologized to the chair if he bumped into it. Our head butler once tried to steal my mother’s jewelry, thinking I was too young to notice. I taught myself basic coding in three days, drained his offshore accounts, and leaked his extracurricular affairs to the entire domestic service industry. He’s currently sorting recycling for a living. In my family, I wasn't "bad." I was "equipped." "This is about the family legacy, Kit," my father had told me before I left. "Find out who is hurting those kids. And once you find the rot... do whatever you have to do. I’ll handle the cleanup." I didn't even have to look for the rot. It had found me on day one. Mrs. Gable had tried to "mentor" me during my first week, implying that if I wanted to keep my scholarship, I’d have to be "accommodating" to the wealthy donors’ sons. She was a glorified madam. I was about to tell them that my family was the Valentine dynasty—the oldest money in the city—and that Lexi’s mother used to be my mother’s personal shopper, when the door burst open. Lexi’s face lit up, then fell. It wasn't a hit squad. It was just the school’s medical team. "Miss Montgomery, we’re here to tend to Mrs. Gable and Mr. Pierce," the lead medic said. "Your father and Mr. Pierce are in an emergency board meeting with the Chairman. They can't come down yet." Lexi’s eyes snapped back to me, the fire returning. "The Chairman is the most powerful man in this state. He doesn't tolerate trash like you. When my dad tells him what you’ve done, your whole family is finished." 3 "Whatever helps you sleep at night," I said, turning to leave. Brantley blocked the door again, a cocky smirk plastered on his bruised face. "Scared? Running away?" "I’m bored, Brantley. There’s a difference." "Tell you what," he said, leaning in. "There’s one way you can save your family. Join the Hunt tonight. If you play, we might forget all about this." Lexi sneered. "The Hunt is a privilege for scholarship rats. Don't be ungrateful." The "Hunt" was a twisted Beaumont tradition. Scholarship students were "mice," hiding across the dark campus while the "cats"—the rich kids—hunted them down. If you were caught, you were at their mercy. If you survived the night, you supposedly got a cash prize. My roommate, Chloe, had told me about it. She’d spent her last Hunt locked in a cold basement. "What if the mouse decides to hunt the cats?" I asked. Before he could react, I grabbed his hand and twisted it at an angle that shouldn't exist. He screamed as I walked past him toward the dorms. When I arrived at my room, I found Chloe sobbing in the hallway. I pushed the door open. Our beds had been smashed to kindling. Every piece of clothing we owned had been tossed into the dumpster outside. And the closet... they’d filled it with live rats. My phone buzzed. A message in the school group chat from Mrs. Gable. “Room 604 failed inspection. Deplorable conditions. Room lead Kit Valentine and her roommates are stripped of all credits and assigned to janitorial duty for the entire campus. Effective immediately.” Chloe was hyperventilating. "The scholarship... my mom is sick, Kit. I needed that money for her treatment. If I lose my credits, I'm out." My other roommates were pale, but they didn't blame me. "It’s okay, Kit. We know you were standing up for us. We’ll do the cleaning. You’re hurt, stay here." Rage, hot and oily, bubbled up in my chest. My father’s scholarship fund was meant to be a lifeline, not a leash. I pulled up the group chat and sent a message to everyone. “Janitorial duty? Go to hell. Is fifty thousand enough to cover your stress? Because I’m bored of the drama.” I started hitting 'Send' on wire transfers. Every scholarship student in the school suddenly received fifty thousand dollars in their accounts. Before I could finish the list, I was kicked from the chat. A second later, I was added to a private group with Lexi, Brantley, and Mrs. Gable. “Where did you get that money? Did you steal a student’s credit card?” Mrs. Gable typed. I screenshot the transaction record, highlighting my name as the account holder. The amount I’d just dropped was more than Brantley’s monthly allowance. They went silent for three beats before Lexi typed: “I knew it. You’re a high-end escort. Don't worry, we’ll make sure your parents know exactly how you’re earning your keep.” Three minutes later, Lexi posted a photo. It was a picture of me and my brother, Sebastian. We were laughing at a gala, his arm around my shoulder. “Looks like she’s the 'special guest' of the Valentine heir. I wonder if Sebastian Valentine knows his little plaything is a violent bully? I bet he’d cut her off in a heartbeat.” I stared at the screen. How did they get a photo of me and Sebastian? Before I could process it, a text came from an unknown number. “Your friend Chloe is having a bit of a problem at the old gym. Better hurry.” 4 By the time I reached the gym, it was a nightmare. Two thugs were holding Chloe down while Lexi and Brantley stood over her, phones out, the flashes strobing like a sick club. Mrs. Gable was there too, along with the school Principal, who was nodding as Gable pointed at Chloe. "This is the girl, sir. Bringing outsiders onto campus for 'services.' Absolutely disgusting behavior." Chloe was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. I realized then—she couldn't speak. Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. "She spends sixteen hours a day in the library," I said, my voice echoing in the rafters. "She doesn't even leave campus to get coffee. How is her 'private life' a mess?" The lead thug pointed at me. "You’re the one who called us, babe! You told us when you transferred that once you got into the Academy, you’d find us some fresh meat. Chloe was just the first one you offered." "Check the security tapes," I said, stepping toward the Principal. The Head of Security stepped forward, smirking. "Cameras are down for maintenance. Such a shame." Brantley walked over and tapped my cheek, leaning in close. "You see now? Money is cute, Kit. But power? Power is the only currency that matters. Sebastian Valentine might be a big deal, but he’s one of us. He’s not going to ruin his reputation for a girl he’s bored with. Give up." I smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Give up?" I walked over to Chloe, gently took the glasses off her face, and popped out the tiny pinhole camera I’d installed in the frame that morning. I synced it to my phone and projected the feed directly onto the school’s giant billboard in the courtyard. The video was clear: The thugs dragging Chloe out while she was cleaning. Mrs. Gable handing them a bottle of "vocal suppressant." And Lexi, leaning into the frame, saying: “Blame your roommate, Chloe. She’s the one who made us do this.” Brantley’s face went gray. I patted his cheek, mimicking his gesture. "The problem with being arrogant, Brantley, is that you forget to check if the mouse is wearing a wire." The video was scrubbed from the server within minutes, but I didn't care. I knew that taking down Brantley and Lexi wasn't enough. I needed to take down their fathers. I needed to cauterize the wound. So, I played along. For the next week, I didn't retaliate. I watched. I waited. Every year, Beaumont hosted a Masquerade Ball. For the first time, all scholarship students were "invited" and provided with gowns. I checked the fabric. Water-soluble. One spill, one "accident" with the sprinklers, and every scholarship girl would be standing naked in front of the elite. I made a few phone calls. The night before the ball, the scholarship group chat was in a panic. All their provided gowns had been "vandalized" or shredded. Lexi and her crew were feigning outrage. "You clearly didn't take care of them!" They rushed an order for a new set of gowns, paying double for overnight delivery. I made sure my contact was the one who fulfilled that order. The night of the ball arrived. The scholarship students were ushered in first. Above them, the sprinkler system was primed. Cameras were hidden in every corner. When Lexi and Brantley walked in, arm in arm, they stopped dead. Every scholarship girl was wearing a stunning, high-quality gown that was perfectly intact. I stood at the center of the room, holding a tray of champagne. "Care for a drink?" I asked. On my signal, the girls didn't wait. They threw their drinks—not at the scholarship students, but at Lexi and Brantley. Their designer clothes—the ones I’d swapped into their dressing rooms—melted like wet sugar. Lexi screamed, trying to cover herself with her hands as the fabric dissolved into nothing. The photos were everywhere before they could even reach the exit. They snapped. The next day, Mrs. Gable screamed at me to get out of her classroom. Lexi and a group of her "followers" tried to corner me in the cafeteria, promising to "make me bleed." Brantley went even further—he started sniffing around my brother, Sebastian, trying to convince him to "drop the charity case" before she ruined his name. Next week was the Annual Honors Gala. All the trustees would be there. "I talked to Sebastian," Brantley hissed at me in the hall. "He barely remembered who you were. Just a girl he met at a party. Let’s see what the Chairman thinks when he finds out you’ve been using the Valentine name to bully his students." I just watched him, like a scientist watching a bug in a jar. The Gala was a sea of tuxedos and floor-length silk. Brantley’s father, Arthur Pierce, and Lexi’s father, Marcus Montgomery, were there, looking smug. Beside them stood a man who looked like a retired linebacker—Mrs. Gable’s husband, the "fighter." He caught my eye and made a throat-slitting gesture. Marcus Montgomery laughed loudly, making sure I heard him. "My sweet Lexi, tonight the Chairman and his son arrive. Finally, the trash will be swept out of this school for good." Arthur Pierce nodded. "The scholarship program was a mistake. If the Chairman hears there’s a 'Demon' among the mice, he’ll pull the funding for good." The scholarship students stood in the back, their eyes filled with dread. Then, the doors swung open. A phalanx of security guards cleared a path. A man in a bespoke suit walked in, the very air in the room shifting toward him. Lexi’s eyes gleamed. "You're dead, Kit." But the light in her eyes died an instant later. Because instead of shrinking away, I walked straight up to the man and looped my arm through his.
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