The corridors of Stockhelm Academy echoed with laughter and chatter, but none of it reached where they stood. Their back was pressed against the cool brick wall near the courtyard, facing Madeline Crane, the girl who had made it her mission to remind them that they didn’t belong.

She sneered, arms crossed, her clique of polished, privileged followers at her back. “You really think anyone actually likes you here?” she scoffed. “God, it’s pathetic.”

They swallowed, willing themselves to stay silent, knowing that reacting only fueled her cruelty.

Behind her, Callum Dunne, her boyfriend and Stockhelm’s resident meathead, grinned lazily, towering over everyone with the kind of arrogance that came from never being told ‘no.’

“I don’t know why you even bother showing up to events,” he added. “Nobody wants you there.”

They clenched their fists, but before they could move, a shadow passed over them.

Jaxson Mallory.

He stepped in without hesitation, his presence loud even in silence. A few inches taller than Callum, large and built like he’d thrown more than a few punches in his life, Jaxson radiated the kind of danger that made people reconsider their choices.

His green eyes burning with something lethal as he stared Callum down. The easy charm he usually carried was gone—he was coiled tension, sharp edges.

“What the hell is this?” His voice was low, steady, but dangerous.

Madeline took a step back, but Callum scoffed. “Relax, Mallory. This doesn’t concern you.”

Jaxson let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. “It does when it’s them.”

They barely had time to react before Jaxson moved.

One second, Callum was smirking. The next, Jaxson’s fist met his jaw with a crack that echoed across the courtyard.

Callum stumbled, dazed, before Jaxson grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. His grip was tight, his knuckles white with restraint.

“You don’t talk to them like that,” Jaxson growled. “You don’t even look at them like that.”