[Rosella pov]
The thing about elite schools no one tells you?
They smell like power.
Not just money — but power.
It's in the fresh-cut flowers by the hallways. In the glint of polished shoes.
And today? It was in the box on my desk.
No note. No name.
Just a black velvet ribbon and a golden seal.
I opened it like it might explode.
Inside: a bouquet of peonies.
White. Soft. Beautiful.
Deadly.
Because in this school, peonies aren't a gift.
They're a warning.
---
I didn't go to class.
Instead, I walked straight to the school archives — the one place Veronica wouldn't follow me.
No cameras. No whispers. No eyes.
I needed answers.
Lily Elms. The Thorns. The twisted, silk-covered corruption everyone else kept dancing around.
I pulled out files until my fingers hurt.
And there, buried in an old yearbook, was a photo:
Lily Elms. Smiling. Wearing peonies.
Two weeks before she vanished.
---
My hands shook.
Not from fear. From fury.
Whoever sent those flowers? They weren't being subtle.
They wanted me to know they were watching.
That I was getting close.
That maybe... Damien wasn't the only one with secrets.
---
I found him by the fencing courts later, sword in hand, face unreadable.
"Nice flowers," he said when he saw me.
I didn't respond.
He tossed the helmet aside, sweat glistening on his neck, and gave me that infuriatingly casual smirk.
"You're quiet," he added.
"I found her," I said.
His smirk faded.
"Lily. In the yearbook. Peonies. Two weeks before she disappeared."
His jaw tensed.
"And guess what?" I continued. "She was with you. In the photo."
He looked away.
For once, Damien Carter didn't have a witty comeback.
Just silence.
Which was worse.
---
"You knew her," I said. "Not just from school. You knew her."
"Yes."
My breath caught.
"And?"
He stepped closer, too close, and said, "And I failed her."
There it was.
The crack in the armor.
"She got involved in something she couldn't handle. She wanted to expose it. She thought she could beat the system from the outside."
"And you?"
"I was already inside."
---
The wind shifted.
So did my resolve.
"I'm not Lily," I said.
"I know."
"I don't want to disappear."
"I won't let you."
"Then stop lying to me."
That hit.
Because deep down, I knew he had been.
Not with malice.
But with fear.
And maybe love.
But lies, all the same.
---
He ran a hand through his hair, the cracks in his perfect persona growing deeper.
"There are rules here, Rosella. But they're not written. They're enforced. You challenge them, you disappear. You win against them? You die in a different way."
I swallowed.
"And you think I should back off?"
"No," he said softly.
"I think you should burn the whole place down."
---
Later that night, I found another note in my locker.
No name.
No flowers.
Just four words:
> "You're next. Stay quiet."
I smiled.
Because threats only work on people who don't bite back.
And me?
I was already sharpening my teeth.
---
End of Chapter Eighteen