Chapter Text
St. Helena's Academy was a world of its own. A self-contained, hierarchical ecosystem where status was everything, and power wasn't given--it was taken.
At the top of that world sat Ruby Lancaster.
She didn't walk through the halls--she owned them. Every step of her designer heels against the polished marble floors was a quiet reminder of who ruled here. Every glance in her direction--furtive, admiring, fearful--was proof of her dominion. She was undeniable, unshakable, a queen among peasants.
And the peasants knew their place.
They gave her gifts, expensive and thoughtful--bracelets, perfumes, handwritten notes filled with empty adoration--as if their offerings could buy favor. They flattered her, their compliments dripping like honey, desperate to remain in her good graces. And they obeyed her. Instinctively, effortlessly. Because to displease Ruby Lancaster was to become nothing.
Her power was effortless. A mere tilt of her head could send rumors spreading like wildfire. A single word could shatter reputations. She had ruined girls before--one misplaced comment, one moment of disrespect, and suddenly, they were pariahs. Forgotten. Invisible.
She loved it.
She lived for it.
Because this was who she was. The girl who was envied. The girl who was feared. The girl who decided.
And she had never--never--questioned it.
---
Sofie was unremarkable.
She arrived at the academy a month ago, slipping into the hierarchy without making so much as a ripple. She was polite. Quiet. Smart. The kind of student teachers adored--not just because of her grades but because she was disciplined. Orderly. A model pupil who never spoke out of turn, never let her uniform wrinkle, never missed a deadline.
She never sat alone at lunch, but she wasn't popular either. She had acquaintances, not friends. People liked her well enough, but no one noticed her. No one wondered what lay behind those steady yet piercing blue eyes.
They should have.
The first sign came with Daniel Porter.
Daniel was a brute. A small-time bully--nothing on Ruby's level, but loud enough to make people flinch when he walked by. He liked picking on the weaker kids, the ones who couldn't fight back. It was just who he was.
And one day, he turned his sights on Sofie.
No one saw exactly what happened. Only that, at lunch, he'd backed her into a corner, sneering, laughing, probably saying something vile--because that was Daniel. That was what he did.
And the next day Daniel Porter was quiet.
Not sick. Not suspended. Just quiet.
He still came to school, still went through the motions, but something was off. His usual loudmouth jeering was gone. He didn't push smaller kids in the halls anymore. Didn't snap at teachers when they called on him. Didn't look anyone in the eye.
No one connected it to Sofie.
Why would they?
She was just a normal girl.
Just a smart, disciplined, soft-spoken girl.
Who never let her uniform wrinkle.
Who never spoke out of turn.
Who never missed a deadline.
---
Ruby Lancaster didn't notice Sofie at first.
Why would she? The girl was unremarkable.
She was one of those forgettable, background students who existed only as filler--smart but not brilliant, polite but not interesting, present but never important.
And in Lancaster Academy, you were either important or you were nothing.
Ruby didn't tolerate nothing.
Yet...
Something about the girl bothered her.
It wasn't obvious at first. Just a feeling--an itch beneath her skin whenever Sofie passed by. The girl never flinched like the others. Never averted her gaze. Never tried to curry favor like the rest of the academy's pathetic little worshippers.
She didn't avoid Ruby.
But she didn't fear her, either.
And that was wrong.
Ruby wasn't used to that kind of indifference.
Then, there were the whispers.
"Did you see Daniel? He's been acting... off."
"Yeah. Ever since that thing with the new girl."
"Wait--Sofie? No way. What could she have possibly done to him?"
Ruby's interest snapped into place.
Porter was one of hers. Not a friend--Ruby didn't have friends--but an extension of her power. He was loud, mean, and useful.
And yet--one interaction with plain, forgettable Sofie had left him... shaken.
That wasn't normal.
And Ruby hated things that weren't normal.
She had to see for herself.
So she watched. Observed.
And the more she watched, the more she saw it.
Tiny, imperceptible shifts in the people around Sofie. A girl who had mocked her last week now offering a shy smile. A teacher who had once dismissed her now lingering when she spoke. Even the academy's usual predators--the bullies, the manipulators--giving her a strange, quiet distance.
And then--Ruby heard it.
"Sofie's... really easy to talk to."
"I don't know. She just... understands things."
"She makes you see things differently."
That was when Ruby decided.
Sofie was an anomaly.
And anomalies had to be corrected.
It started small.
A passive-aggressive remark in the hallway. A look of utter disdain when Sofie spoke in class. A slow, deliberate dismissal of her presence--because Ruby wanted her to feel it.
The reminder that she was nothing.
Yet Sofie never reacted the way Ruby wanted.
She didn't cower.
She didn't fight back.
She just... watched.
Calm. Still. Measured.
Like she was studying her.
And Ruby Lancaster had never felt studied before.
It sent something sharp and ugly crawling up her spine.
So Ruby pushed harder.
A whispered comment in the cafeteria, loud enough for others to hear.
"God, she's just so boring, isn't she? It's honestly painful to watch."
A quiet chuckle from her entourage. A few stolen glances in Sofie's direction.
And finally--finally--Sofie looked at her.
And then--
Ruby made the mistake.
---
Ruby Lancaster was a predator by nature. She knew how to read people, how to sniff out weakness like blood in the water, how to tear someone down with nothing but a look and a well-placed word.
Sofie was... nothing.
A dull, plain little thing who barely made a sound when she moved, who never spoke out of turn, who sat alone at lunch and disappeared the moment classes ended. Not an outcast, not a weirdo--just forgettable.
And yet, something about her bothered Ruby.
It wasn't the way she acted--it was the way others acted around her.
The small, insignificant things that didn't make sense. The way the teachers liked her but never called on her, as if subconsciously hesitant. The way the students ignored her--not out of malice, but like they were avoiding something they didn't understand. And that bully--Daniel, an absolute dog who tormented the weak for sport--he'd confronted her once. Ruby had seen it happen. He'd grabbed Sofie's wrist, sneering, ready to play his usual games.
And then the next day, Daniel was quiet.
Not injured. Not sulking. Not beaten.
Just quiet.
As if something had been... removed from him.
Ruby should have ignored it. Should have dismissed Sofie as just another boring girl unworthy of her attention.
But she didn't.
Because Sofie didn't just ignore Ruby's presence.
She dismissed it.
Like Ruby was insignificant. Like Ruby was no different from any of the other disposable, meaningless students in this place.
And that?
That was unacceptable.
So Ruby watched her. Waited. Plotted.
Then one day, she saw it--A moment of vulnerability.
Sofie had a notebook. A plain, unmarked thing, but she never let it out of her sight. Ruby saw her writing in it constantly, her face neutral, controlled--but her fingers clenched too hard around the pen. Her shoulders curled forward, just a fraction too much. And the one time a student accidentally knocked it off her desk, Sofie had frozen. Not gasped, not flinched--just froze for half a second before snatching it up, her face blank.
It was important.
And Ruby Lancaster collected important things.
So she smiled.
And she plotted.
And when the moment was right, she plucked the notebook from Sofie's bag with the deftness of a magician, the same notebook Sofie always scribbled away in all the time, making notes... and walked into the girls' locker room, closing the door shut with a final click.
At first, Ruby didn't understand what she was looking at.
It wasn't a diary. No sickeningly sweet confessions of teenage crushes, no tear-stained rants about unfair teachers or bad grades. No, this was something else entirely.
Names.
Pages and pages of them, each accompanied by notes in meticulous, almost clinical handwriting.
- Daniel P. -- Temper control issues. Weak father figure. Needs dominance to function. Struggles with silence.
- Joanne P. -- Seeks validation. Easily guilt-tripped. Breaks under sustained shame.
- Mrs. Calloway -- Believes in innocence. Hesitates before punishing.
It wasn't until she flipped a few pages further that Ruby saw her own name.
At first, her lips curled in amusement. Of course she was in here. She was Ruby Lancaster, after all. People noticed her. People obsessed over her. She had followers, she had admirers, she had enemies--it was only natural someone like this pathetic Sofie girl would take an interest.
But then she actually read what was written.
Ruby Lancaster.
Arrogant. Queen bee. Mask of confidence. Craves admiration. Cannot tolerate being ignored.
Ego above all else.
Unfamiliar with true fear.
Unfamiliar with being small.
Will shatter if she ever learns what it means to be helpless.
A slow chill curled around her spine.
This wasn't some pathetic girl admiring her. This wasn't some loser scribbling jealous notes about how much they wished they could be her.
This was study.
This was observation.
And Ruby knew, with the same instinct that told her how to break people down, that Sofie had been watching her first.
Something prickled beneath her skin. A wrongness. A realization she couldn't quite name.
For the first time in years, Ruby Lancaster felt something she had not felt in a very, very long time.
A flicker. A whisper.
Unease.
And then, behind her--
The door creaked open.
The door clicked shut.
Behind her, footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. No panic, no anger.
She turned.
Sofie stood just inside the door, her expression unreadable. There was no rage, no shock, no fear. If anything, she looked... disappointed.
No--pitying.
Ruby's stomach twisted.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Sofie asked, voice soft.
For the first time in her life, Ruby didn't have a response.
Her fingers clenched around the notebook. Her pulse was too fast, her breath a little too shallow. But she forced herself to sneer, lifting the book like it was a weapon.
"This is some freaky shit, you know that?" she said. "Spying on people, writing about them like they're--"
Sofie tilted her head.
"Like they're what?"
Ruby hesitated.
Sofie took a single step forward.
"You think this is strange, don't you?" Sofie continued, voice patient. "Because you've never seen something like it. Because you don't take notes. You don't have to study people. You just act on instinct."
Her gaze flickered down, just for a second. Ruby followed it--realized, too late, that her fingers had tightened around the book, holding it close.
Like it was important.
Like it was hers.
Sofie smiled.
"You're holding onto it pretty tightly," she mused. "You must have liked what you read."
Ruby's grip loosened immediately. "Shut up."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Sofie's expression shifted--not anger, not smugness, but something more controlled. Something precise.
Something dangerous.
"You're upset," Sofie murmured. "But not because I wrote about you. No... you're upset because it's right."
Ruby's breath hitched.
Sofie took another step. Slow. Unhurried.
"Tell me, Ruby... how does it feel to be read like a book?"
Silence.
The air in the locker room felt thicker somehow.
Sofie's voice remained gentle.
"It's funny," she said. "You rule this school. People fear you. Obey you. And yet, standing here right now..."
She leaned in--just slightly. Just enough to make Ruby's instincts scream at her to move, to get away.
"You don't feel powerful at all, do you?"
Ruby's nails bit into her palms.
She had made a mistake.
Sofie smiled gently and gestured at the book.
"Go on. Ill wait."
---
Ruby turned another page, her eyes widening as she flipped through the notebook.
It was fascinating, really. Unsettling, but fascinating. Sofie had detailed entire personality dissections of students--breaking down their behaviors, their habits, their fears. It wasn't just gossip; it was surgical. Cold. Mechanical.
And then she found it.
At first, she thought it was just another one of Sofie's psychological breakdowns of people. But as she read, her eyes narrowed.
This one was different.
It wasn't about a student. It was about her.
Not her, Ruby Lancaster. But her, the Sofie before Sofie.
A name she didn't recognize.
A life that didn't exist anymore.
A story that sent a ripple of something uneasy down Ruby's spine.
It was written like an autopsy.
A cold, clinical recording of a girl who once existed. Who once had hopes. Dreams. Attachments.
And then--she broke.
There were no descriptions of pain. No emotions. No melodrama.
Just the dissection of a mind snapping apart.
No recovery. No rebuilding.
Only removal.
As if the girl had been deleted.
Ruby furrowed her brows. "What the hell...?"
She read on, skimming through sentences.
"This was the moment she ceased to be a person. The last attachment severed. The last illusion dissolved. There was no sadness. No grief. No rage. Just the realization that humanity was a liability. A pointless delusion."
The last line sent a chill creeping up her spine:
"From that moment forward, she was something else. Something better. Something that would never be weak again."
Ruby swallowed.
This wasn't a diary. It was a eulogy.
A eulogy for Sofie's former self.
A slow, creeping unease settled in Ruby's chest. She felt something prickling at the edges of her mind--an instinct she rarely acknowledged.
Fear.
Sofie stood there.
Calm. Collected. Watching.
There was no anger on her face. No malice.
"Done yet?"
Sofie murmured, stepping forward.
Ruby stiffened. She forced out a scoff, trying to steady herself. "So you used to be some freaky emo girl? Big deal."
Sofie just smiled.
A slow, patient smile.
Like Ruby had said something adorably naïve.
Like Ruby was already hers.
She tilted her head. "Do you think you understand what you've read, Ruby?"
Something about the way she said her name made Ruby's stomach turn.
She didn't respond.
Sofie stepped closer.
Calm. Measured. Inevitable.
"I suppose I should thank you," she murmured, reaching out--brushing a single, cold fingertip along Ruby's wrist. "I was uncertain before."
Her voice was gentle. Almost kind.
"But now..."
Her fingers closed just slightly.
Enough for Ruby to feel the absence of warmth.
Enough for her to know--something was very, very wrong.
"...Now I'm certain."
---
Ruby wasn't afraid. She wasn't.
It wasn't fear that made her hesitate before walking into a room. It wasn't fear that made her scan the halls before stepping into them. It wasn't fear that had her listening--for soft footsteps, for the absence of sound, for something she couldn't name.
No, she was simply being cautious. Being aware.
Prey runs from predator. Predator runs after prey. The prey change, the predators bring about the change.
It was... only logical.
She wasn't avoiding Sofie. That would imply Sofie had any sort of power over her. No, this was strategy. She was simply positioning herself optimally. Staying ahead. Maintaining control.
And yet...
Sometimes she would catch herself staring--not at Sofie, but for her. Her eyes would drift, searching across the cafeteria, the courtyard, the lecture hall. A glance to confirm, to assess. A glance that should have meant nothing.
And then, sometimes, Sofie would be looking back.
Not smiling. Not frowning. Just... watching. With that same quiet amusement, that same unbearable pity.
Prey runs from predator. Predator runs after prey. The prey change, the predators bring about the change.
It was... only logical.
Ruby found herself adjusting. Her usual seat in class--too exposed. She moved. Her path to the dorms--too predictable. She changed it. Her routine--too vulnerable. She refined it, optimized it, corrected it.
She was simply being smart.
Prey runs from predator. Predator runs after prey.
She wasn't prey.
The prey change, the predators bring about the change.
She was just adapting.
It was... only logical.
---
The day was perfect.
Jennifer had taste. The poolside party was carefully curated--the right music thrumming through hidden speakers, the right selection of guests basking under the sun, the right kind of drinks passed around in sleek, sweating glasses. The air was thick with chlorine, sunscreen, and effortless luxury.
Only the right people were here.
Jennifer made sure of that.
She was Ruby's second-in-command--the girl who handled the fine details, who made sure nothing was out of place. She wasn't as feared, as worshiped, but she was trusted. If Jennifer invited you, it meant you belonged.
Which was why Ruby hesitated at the edge of the deck, staring at the girl she knew did not.
Sofie sat beneath the shade of a linen-draped canopy, legs crossed, posture pristine, an untouched drink in her hands. She was dry--hadn't even considered getting into the pool. She wasn't laughing, wasn't gossiping, wasn't socializing.
And yet she was here.
Ruby turned sharply to Jennifer. "Why?"
Jennifer tilted her sunglasses down, confusion flickering across her tanned features. "Why what?"
Ruby gestured, subtle but pointed. Why is she here?
Jennifer followed her gaze, then shrugged. "I invited her."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Jennifer sighed, pushing her glasses back up. "I don't know. It just...felt like the right thing to do. Shes nice..."
Ruby's stomach twisted.
Felt like the right thing to do.
The words were wrong. Not like Jennifer. Jennifer did things for a reason--social standing, power, leverage. She didn't just invite people without an agenda.
And yet, here Sofie was.
A permanent stone.
Ruby's fingers curled against her arms, nails pressing into skin.
She didn't belong.
She shouldn't be here.
And yet.
The eyes found her.
Blue--so blue they almost seemed unnatural in the golden haze of the afternoon. Blue like ice, like glass, like something sharp enough to cut.
They didn't blink. They didn't waver. They held.
Ruby felt her breath hitch--just a little, just enough for her fingers to tighten around her glass.
Prey runs from predator.
She wasn't prey.
Predator runs after prey.
She wasn't running.
The prey change, the predators bring about the change.
Her stomach twisted.
It was...only logical.
Ruby tore her gaze away, forcing herself to move, to breathe. She was imagining things. Sofie was a nobody, a fluke, an anomaly. Jennifer probably took pity on her--yes, that had to be it. Nothing more. Nothing sinister.
And yet.
No matter where she went, no matter how many conversations she forced herself into, laughter she faked, distractions she clung to--every time she glanced up, those blue eyes were there. Watching. Calculating. Waiting.
A permanent stone.
A cold, unyielding weight, pressing against the edges of her mind.
She was afraid.
It was...only logical.
Ruby was moving. Talking. Laughing at things that weren't funny.
She floated from group to group, pressing against the normalcy of the party, anchoring herself in familiar faces, in control. She was in control. This was her world, her domain, her people.
And yet.
The weight never left her.
Those eyes never left her.
Every time she glanced up, every time she allowed herself a fraction of a second to confirm what she already knew--Sofie was there.
Under the canopy.
By the drink station.
Standing at the pool's edge, head tilted, watching the way the light cut across the water.
It was infuriating.
It was illogical.
Ruby wasn't hiding from her. That would be ridiculous. That would be pathetic. She was simply...avoiding unnecessary interaction. Sofie was nothing. A blip, a momentary disturbance in a world that would inevitably correct itself.
And yet.
When she turned the corner, slipping through the archway that led into the main house, when she exhaled, shoulders rolling back, body finally free from that pressure--
A presence shifted behind her.
Soft, quiet steps.
Slow. Unhurried.
Ruby didn't turn around. She didn't need to.
She already knew.
Sofie.
She was following her.
No. That wasn't right. Ruby wasn't running.
She was simply...removing herself from unnecessary company. That was normal. That was logical.
The steps grew closer.
A hand brushed the doorframe beside her, a casual, almost absentminded motion. Ruby swallowed.
"You've been avoiding me."
The voice was soft. Pleasant. Sofie's voice had always been pleasant. There was no accusation in it, no sharpness, no challenge.
Just observation.
Ruby turned slowly.
Sofie stood just a foot away. Close. Too close.
Her expression was neutral--not smiling, not frowning, just...there. Blue eyes met Ruby's, head tilting ever so slightly, as if studying something small, something delicate.
Something fragile.
Ruby scoffed, crossing her arms. "I have not been avoiding you."
A pause.
Sofie blinked. "Of course not."
No argument. No sarcasm.
Just agreement.
And yet--
It wasn't.
Ruby's jaw clenched. "Why are you even here?"
Sofie hummed, as if genuinely considering the question.
Jennifer had invited her.
And Jennifer never invited people without a reason.
Ruby had been so sure of that.
Sofie tilted her head.
"I belong here," she said.
The words crawled down Ruby's spine, slow and precise, nestling deep into something she couldn't quite reach.
She didn't.
She couldn't.
And yet.
Sofie was here.
Ruby had no counterargument.
No response.
Because the fact remained--
Sofie was here.
---
Ruby had spent years perfecting the art of control. Of making people kneel without them realizing they had done so. Her world bent for her.
Sofie didn't bend.
She didn't move.
She stood there--unshaken, unimpressed, and unbothered, as if Ruby was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. A passing thought.
And that infuriated Ruby.
The tension between them was unbearable. Sofie had done nothing, said nothing, and yet Ruby's entire body was taut, waiting for something, some shift, some cue--
She forced herself to scoff, shifting her weight to one side, folding her arms. "You belong here?" she sneered. "You're nobody. You don't even--"
Sofie moved.
It wasn't dramatic. No explosion of motion, no sudden lunge, no theatrical display of dominance.
Just a single step forward.
But it was closer.
Too close.
Sofie was just... there.
Ruby stepped back before she could think.
Something inside her twisted.
Sofie didn't chase. She didn't demand.
She simply stepped into Ruby's space--into her world--and watched as Ruby yielded without a word.
A slow blink.
Sofie's voice was soft. Pleasant.
"I think you should apologize."
The words hit Ruby like an open hand across the face. Her mouth opened--what?--but no sound came out.
Apologize?
To her?
Sofie took another step.
Ruby stepped back.
Another.
Back.
The wall caught her.
Something primal sparked in her chest--like a small animal realizing too late that it had backed into a trap.
Sofie was looking at her, head tilting just slightly, as if studying something small.
Something weak.
"It's only polite," she murmured, voice gentle, almost coaxing. "You read something that didn't belong to you back then, didn't you?"
The air was too thick.
Ruby swallowed, pressing her back against the wall, hating how small she felt, how trapped.
Sofie wasn't touching her.
She hadn't forced Ruby against the wall.
Ruby had done that to herself.
"I--I don't have to apologize to you." she snapped, but her voice lacked the sharp edge it was supposed to have. It sounded... off. Weak.
Sofie didn't argue.
Didn't demand.
Didn't need to.
She just tilted her head, watching, waiting.
Letting the silence settle, letting Ruby feel the weight of it, the suffocating pressure of something she couldn't explain.
The tension stretched.
And then--
"I'm sorry."
The words slipped out before Ruby could stop them.
She hadn't even realized she was going to say them.
The moment they left her lips, something in Sofie's expression shifted--just slightly.
A flicker of something.
Not victory.
Not smugness.
Something inevitable.
As if this was simply how things were supposed to be.
Ruby stared, breath catching.
She had--
No.
No, that didn't--
It made sense, didn't it?
She had invaded Sofie's privacy. She had crossed a line. It was only logical to apologize.
Right?
Sofie's lips curled--just barely.
She reached out.
Not to grab. Not to push.
Just the barest touch--a single finger beneath Ruby's chin, lifting it just slightly.
Not forcing.
Just... guiding.
Her voice was so quiet.
So gentle.
"There's a good girl."
The words sent a shudder down Ruby's spine.
Something deep, something instinctual, something she did not understand.
Sofie stepped back.
The tension broke.
Air rushed into Ruby's lungs.
She wasn't sure when she had stopped breathing.
---
Ruby Lancaster had always trusted her instincts. A queen bee didn't question herself--she commanded. She made decisions, and others obeyed. That was the natural order. That was logical.
But now...
Now every thought had to be filtered. Every impulse had to be examined. There was no more instinct--there was only logic and illogic.
Avoiding Sofie had been logical. The girl was a problem.
Giving in had been illogical. And yet...
She had done it anyway.
And worse, when Sofie had praised her--Ruby had felt something warm bloom inside her chest. A soft glow of... what? Satisfaction? Pride?
She liked it.
She had liked Sofie's approval.
And that was terrifying.
---
The party was over. The music, the chatter, the splashing of the pool--distant memories now. Ruby sat curled up in her bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over.
It was supposed to have been humiliating. Sofie had called her a good girl, like she was some pet, some obedient little thing.
And yet.
And yet.
It was only logical.
She had spent days--weeks--avoiding Sofie, pulling away, keeping her distance. She had done everything in her power to reject her, and yet the moment Sofie had looked at her--spoken to her--she had folded in an instant.
Why?
Because prey runs from predator.
Because predator runs after prey.
Because the prey change, the predator brings about the change.
Because it was...
Only logical.
Her fingers curled into the sheets, her breathing uneven. No. No, this was wrong. She was strong. She was Ruby Lancaster. She didn't bow. She didn't submit.
And yet...
She had liked it.
The warmth in her chest, the subtle thrill, the strange comfort of being acknowledged--approved of--by her.
A sickening realization curled inside her gut.
Would Sofie praise her again if she apologized properly next time?
The thought came unbidden, unwanted, and yet it stuck--like a seed planted deep inside her brain.
Would it really be so bad?
Would it really be so...
Illogical?
Her breath caught in her throat.
She squeezed her eyes shut, curled into herself, tried to deny it--
But in the quiet of her room, in the dark of her thoughts--
She already knew the answer.
---
Ruby had spent the entire night wrestling with the thought, but the answer had been inevitable.
She had no choice.
Sofie had become an immovable presence in her mind--a constant, undeniable force. Avoiding her had been an illusion of control, a pathetic attempt to reclaim something that had already been taken.
So Ruby did what any rational person would do.
She stopped running.
She would face Sofie.
Not because she wanted to. Not because she was weak. But because...
It was only logical.
---
The academy halls hummed with the usual morning rush--chatter, hurried footsteps, laughter--but Ruby's world had narrowed to a singular focus.
She spotted her immediately.
Sofie sat at her usual place in the library, a book open in front of her, posture relaxed. The early morning sun filtered through the windows, casting soft golden light over her features. She looked...calm. Serene. As if she had never once doubted the world around her. As if she had never struggled, never feared.
Ruby's stomach twisted.
Why did it feel like Sofie was the only real thing in this entire academy?
She inhaled sharply, steeled herself, and walked forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Her hands felt clammy. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
But she refused to falter.
Sofie didn't even look up when Ruby stopped beside her. Didn't acknowledge her presence.
Ruby hesitated.
Then--
She sat down.
A small movement. An insignificant action. But in her mind, it might as well have been a bow.
The silence stretched.
Sofie's eyes finally lifted from the book, those cold, piercing blue irises settling on Ruby with quiet amusement.
And then--
A slow, knowing smile.
"Good girl."
The words sent a shiver through Ruby's spine.
Her fingers curled against her lap. Her breath hitched.
The warmth returned.
The quiet, shameful glow of approval.
Sofie turned a page in her book, unconcerned. As if Ruby sitting here--Ruby choosing to come to her--had been inevitable.
And perhaps it had.
After all--
Prey runs from predator.
Predator runs after prey.
The prey change.
The predator brings about the change.
It was...
Only logical.