Valentine Winters P.O.V
The expression on his face was a fleeting canvas of emotions—initial shock, followed by confusion, and ultimately settling into anger.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at me. I couldn't help but notice the ring on his finger, bearing my name.
Awkwardness hung in the air, especially considering he had my name engraved on his ring, right in front of his unsuspecting girlfriend.
"You know her?" she inquired, her eyes darting between us, oblivious to the tangled history we shared.
"Shut up, Red," Lucifer dismissed her with a snarl.
"Babe," she whimpered.
"Class now, I'll be there in a moment," he ordered, prompting her to huff and retreat with her entourage.
"So?" Lucifer snarled, taking a step forward as I involuntarily pressed myself against my locker.
"Studying," I replied, attempting to deflect his scrutiny.
"Why here? It's dangerous. My dad thinks you're dead," he said, unveiling layers of hidden tensions and unspoken complexities.
"I don't want to see you here," Lucifer declared with a cold finality.
"Suit yourself," I muttered under my breath, prompting a gritted response from him as he walked away. The tension lingered, creating an unseen ripple in our already complicated connection.
Late for class, my first day didn't exactly go as planned. Each shared class with Lucifer revealed his intentional ignorance, leaving a lingering hurt. His deliberate avoidance raised unspoken questions about the complexities of our shared past.
Returning home, my dad's inquiry about new friends only drew a sigh from me.
The following day started with P.E., and I found myself face-to-face with Red, Lucifer's girlfriend. The air crackled with hidden animosity as she spoke.
"So, my boyfriend taught you some lessons?" she remarked, screaming 'pick me' vibes.
"Plenty," I replied with a curt smile.
"Learn," she sneered, and as I tried to pass her, she insulted me.
"Get out of my way, slut," I grumbled, irked by her unnecessary hostility.
"Dirty bitch," she muttered, leaving me puzzled about the source of her resentment.
I shook my head, rolling my eyes, only to be met with Lucifer's presence as he stood before me.
"Get up," he ordered, his tone devoid of any warmth.
"Why?" I asked, creasing my forehead.
"You called my girlfriend a slut," he accused, his expression turning cold.
"She named me a dirty bitch," I defended, feeling the frustration building.
"Aren't you? Apologize," he commanded, his demand hitting a nerve.
My wolf, driven by injustice and fueled by the tension, took over. Before I could comprehend, she tackled Lucifer to the ground, delivering a series of punches that left bruises forming on his face.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me away as Lucifer sat up, spitting out blood.
The coach entered, witnessing the aftermath. "Spit it out?" he demanded, his eyes moving between the disheveled scenes.
"She hit me for no reason," Lucifer accused, pointing at me.
My attempt to explain was cut off, leaving my mouth agape.
"Both detention after school," the coach declared, sealing my fate with loathing eyes. The aftermath of the clash left me grappling with the consequences.
Detention began, and Lucifer arrived late, nonchalantly with a hamburger in hand. The coach, seemingly unbothered, dished out punishment, uniting us in an unexpected, shared consequence.
During detention, memories of our twisted history flooded my mind—the torture, the rescue, the forced marriage, and the abrupt departure. Now, in a bizarre twist, we were strangers, sharing a space fraught with tension.
After detention, the hallway echoed with my solitary footsteps until an unexpected assailant approached, thrusting a cloth against my face. As black spots invaded my vision, consciousness slipped away.
I awoke tied to a chair in a hauntingly familiar room—Lucifer's room. The echoes of chains tightened around me as I grappled with a harrowing reality.
Why is it all moving backward? I wondered, my plea for freedom seemingly answered with cruel irony.
Lucifer, brandishing a sharp blade, approached, playing with it as he declared, "You squandered your chance; now you suffer." The disturbing past revisited, as my pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, and the room closed in on a captive past.
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