Chapter 4 The Dare

A Game Begins

The Ravenwood elite lived for power, for games, for the art of destruction wrapped in silk and cruelty.

Damien Vale had never needed a reason to ruin someone-he did it when he was bored when someone irritated him when he felt like exerting his control. The students of Ravenwood had long since learned not to cross him, not to test the invisible line he had drawn in blood and silence.

But Ivy Monroe had walked straight into his world and challenged him without even realizing it.

And now?

She was his.

Even if she didn't know it yet.

The Bet is Placed

It started the night after the dining hall incident, when Damien's closest circle gathered in their private lounge-the Ravens' Nest, hidden beneath the east wing of the academy.

The room was bathed in low, golden light, the scent of whiskey and cologne thick in the air. Velvet curtains lined the walls, deep and heavy, muting the outside world. Dark leather chairs and expensive couches were arranged in careless elegance, a sanctuary for the untouchable.

Here, rules didn't exist.

And neither did mercy.

Jaxon leaned back into the cushions, the dim glow casting sharp shadows over his aristocratic features. His fingers played with a silver coin, twisting it effortlessly between his knuckles.

"So," he drawled, watching Damien carefully, "what's the deal with the scholarship girl?"

Damien exhaled slowly, silent.

The ice in his drink clinked as he swirled it, his expression unreadable.

Cassidy, lounging on the couch beside him, let out a soft, knowing laugh. "I have to admit, Vale, I've never seen a girl wipe her hands on you and live to tell the tale."

The others chuckled, a ripple of amusement cutting through the heavy air.

"Maybe," Jaxon mused, "she's not as breakable as she looks."

A flicker of irritation burned in Damien's chest.

Breakable?

Everyone was breakable.

They just needed the right kind of pressure, the right kind of push.

He finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto Jaxon's.

"She will be."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a promise.

It was an act.

Silence stretched for a moment.

Then, Jaxon smirked. "I bet you can't do it."

The room stilled.

Even Cassidy stopped twirling her glass, her gaze flickering between them.

Jaxon tilted his head, his grin widening as he tapped the coin against the armrest. "I bet you can't break her."

The words were bait.

And Damien Vale never ignored a dare.

Cassidy was the first to react. "Jaxon," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "we both know how this is going to end."

Jaxon ignored her, his gaze locked on Damien. "Do we?"

Damien didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached for his drink, taking a slow sip, his fingers tapping against the crystal. Considering.

He didn't give a damn about Jaxon's ego.

But Ivy?

She had already made herself a target with that defiant gaze, with the way she had looked at him in the dining hall like she wasn't afraid.

Like she didn't know who she was dealing with.

And that?

That was unacceptable.

Jaxon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "What's the wager?"

The corner of Damien's mouth curled. "Surprise me."

Jaxon chuckled, eyes gleaming. "Alright. Let's make it interesting."

He flipped the coin once, catching it effortlessly. "If you win, you get my father's yacht for the summer."

A few murmurs of appreciation spread through the group. It wasn't just any yacht- it was the Specter multimillion-dollar beast that Jaxon's father used to close deals with the wealthiest families on the coast.

A tempting prize.

But Damien didn't care about the damn yacht.

He only cared about proving a point.

Jaxon smirked. "And if you lose?"

Damien set his drink down. Unmoving. Unshaken.

"I won't."

The group shivered at the finality in his voice.

And just like that, the deal was struck.

The game had begun.

The First Move

Damien was patient when he wanted to be.

He could have struck immediately, shattering Ivy's defenses the way he had done with so many before her. He could have made her cry within the first week, made her beg, made her understand her place in Ravenwood.

But that would be too easy.

And Damien Vale?

He preferred to watch his prey squirm.

So instead, he did something worse.

He waited.

He let her think she had that maybe the dining hall incident had been a fluke, that maybe Damien had lost interest.

For three days, he ignored her completely.

No cold glances in the hallway.

No biting remarks.

Nothing.

But that, in itself, was a game.

Because she noticed.

She noticed when the whispers followed her a little louder than before.

She noticed when seats around her suddenly became vacant when people who had spoken to her before suddenly wouldn't meet her eyes.

She noticed when teachers, who had seemed warm on the first day, grew distant, their smiles more strained.

And most of all, she noticed him.

The way Damien Vale sat with his group, laughing carelessly, never once acknowledging her presence.

It was infuriating.

Terrifying.

Because she didn't know what was worse-the open cruelty she had been expecting... or the silence before the storm.

And then, on the fourth day, he struck.

Checkmate

It was just after dusk when Ivy found herself cornered.

She had been walking back from the library when she heard them-the quiet footsteps behind her, too measured to be random.

She didn't panic. Not yet.

Instead, she picked up her pace, hugging her books to her chest, heart thrumming a little faster.

The east wing of the academy was always emptier at night.

And now, she was alone.

A shadow stretched ahead of her, long and effortless.

By the time she turned the corner, it was too late.

Damien Vale leaned against the wall, his posture casual, his smirk anything but.

"Going somewhere, Ivy?"

Her pulse spiked.

But she didn't let it show.

Instead, she took a slow breath and met his gaze. "Yes."

His smirk deepened. "That's cute."

A second later, he was in front of her. Close. Too close. The scent of expensive cologne, dark and heady, curled around her like smoke.

"Tell me, scholarship girl," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Ivy's grip on her books tightened. "Figured out what?"

His hand came up-slow, deliberate-and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

"That you don't belong here."

Ivy swallowed. "Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you."

For a second, just a second, something flickered in his gaze-surprise, amusement, something deeper.

Then, he laughed.

Low. Dark. Dangerous.

"Oh, Ivy," he murmured.

The way he said her name-like a secret, like a sin-sent a slow ripple of unease through her spine.

"This is going to be fun."

And she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she had just fallen deeper into his game.