The cafeteria didn’t go quiet because the fight stopped. It went quiet because of the person who grabbed my wrist.

Dead silence.

Like someone hit pause on the entire school.

Eyes—so many eyes—locked on the tall figure standing between me and Spencer. You could feel the shift, like the air itself knew not to move unless this guy said it could.

He let go of my wrist, slow and deliberate. My pulse was still hammering in my chest, like it hadn’t caught up with what just happened. I turned fully to face him.

Holy hell.

He was tall. Broad. Like he was built out of cold metal and warnings. His black hair was messy in that way that still somehow looked perfect. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. And those eyes—blue and cold and too focused—like they could peel back layers of your soul just for fun.

There was a small scar slashed above his left eyebrow. And hanging from his neck, glinting under the dull cafeteria lights, was the chain.

Number 1.

Now I understood the silence.

This wasn’t just some guy stepping in. This was him.

He didn’t look at me again. His attention shifted to Spencer, and just the weight of his stare was enough to wipe the smugness off Spencer’s face. Not completely. But enough.

“Spencer,” he said, voice low, calm, but solid like a judge handing out a sentence. “What’s going on here?”

Spencer rubbed his jaw like it still stung from the hit I landed. His voice was cool, like this was no big deal. “Just having a little fun with the newbie, Chase.”

Chase?

So this was Chase. The one people whispered about. The one no one messed with.

I scoffed. “Having fun? That’s what you call it now?”

But before either of us could escalate, the intercom crackled overhead, followed by the principal’s voice, sharp and loud.

“Camille Jones and Spencer Blake. To my office. Now.”

Everyone flinched. Except Chase. He didn’t even blink.

As I turned to leave, head still spinning, I heard him lean in close to Spencer, his voice just barely above a whisper—but somehow I caught it.

“I don’t pay you to have fun. I pay you to keep peace.”

I froze. My heart skipped.

What?

What the hell did that mean?

---

The walk to the principal’s office was short but felt like a punishment all on its own. Spencer strolled behind me like he was headed to brunch, while my hands were still clenched into fists.

The office looked like every boring school office ever—stale beige walls, a heavy wooden desk, cheap chairs that made your butt hurt if you sat too long. The air even smelled judgmental. Some kind of old cologne and printer ink combo.

Mr. Sullivan looked up from his desk as we walked in. His graying beard was trimmed too sharp, and his eyes were already sizing me up like I was a stain on his shiny floor.

“Ah. Camille Jones,” he said, like my name personally offended him. “Look what we have here.”

I bit my tongue.

Then Spencer waltzed in behind me like he owned the place.

“Spencer,” Mr. Sullivan said, suddenly friendly. “Glad you could join us.”

What the hell?

He didn’t sound like that when he said my name.

Mr. Sullivan leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. “So. Camille. A fight? On your third day?”

I crossed my arms. “He started it. I just defended myself.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You defended yourself? Hmm. That’s not what I saw.”

Spencer let out a snort. “She’s nuts, Principal. Came at me like a wild dog.”

I shot him a glare. “Liar! You were harassing me.”

Mr. Sullivan looked back at me like I was being dramatic. “Spencer says otherwise. And I believe him. He’s a peace custodian, you know.”

Peace custodian? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

My blood boiled. “He slapped me first. You seriously gonna pretend that didn’t happen?”

Mr. Sullivan waved it off like it was a sneeze. “A misunderstanding. Spencer apologized. Right?”

Spencer nodded with a smirk. “Yep. All cleared up.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to flip the whole damn desk.

“This is messed up!” I snapped. “You’re just gonna take his word and ignore mine?”

Mr. Sullivan’s face hardened. “Camille, calm down. You’re getting a warning. And Spencer—”

He paused, giving Spencer a look that said you’re fine.

“—will receive a minor consequence.”

Of course.

I didn’t even wait to argue more. I turned toward the door, jaw tight. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”

Behind me, his voice followed like a warning shot.

“Any more trouble, Camille, and there will be severe consequences.”

I didn’t answer.

---

As I stepped out into the hallway, my fists still clenched, Spencer leaned against the wall like he’d been waiting for his victory parade.

“You’re gonna regret crossing me,” he said, voice low and full of fake pity. “Thought you were a little fighter, huh?”

I turned and stared straight into his face. “I’m not scared of you.”

His smirk widened, eyes glittering. “You will be.”

He walked off like he’d won. Like he had the whole school rigged in his favor.

Maybe he did.

But something in my chest refused to shrink.

This place might be hell...

But I wasn’t backing down.

Not now.

Not ever.

Author Note: How would you feel if you enroll in a school ranked by Chains?

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