13. Zane

13

ZANE

I 'm lounging on the worn leather couch in the common room, the remnants of last night's party scattered around like the aftermath of a storm. The heavy scents of stale beer and smoke hang in the air, mixing with the faint citrus and cedar wood of my own cologne. I absentmindedly flip through my phone, trying to distract myself from the whirlwind of thoughts about Lyric.

Just as I'm starting to lose myself in doom-scrolling TikTok, Archer strides into the room, his expression hard and determined. Levi looks up from his spot at the table, curiosity and apprehension flickering in his eyes. I sit up, my attention fully on Archer now.

"We need to up the punishments on Lyric," Archer announces, his voice cold and unyielding. "She's not breaking like we thought she would. It's time to make things worse for her."

A part of me wonders if this is taking things too far. She's been through a lot already and despite everything, there's a small voice in the back of my mind whispering that maybe we're pushing her beyond her limits. But then I remember the betrayal, the liesi and the secret she's been hiding. The anger surges back, drowning out any lingering doubts.

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, leaning forward, my interest piqued despite myself.

Archer's eyes gleam with a dark resolve. "We need to make her life a living hell. No more small tasks or simple humiliations. We're going to hit her where it hurts the most, make her remember that she's nothing to us."

Levi nods, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe we ought to make sure she can't complain anymore. Can't speak in public unless spoken to or given permission."

"And make her remember who she belongs to at all times," I add. "Every time she's in one of our rooms with us, she has to take all her clothes off immediately."

"If she thinks it's so hard to raise a kid and be at our beck and call, we should make sure she gets plenty of rest," Archer says, a feral grin on his face. "Give her a curfew."

"All right," I say, standing up and meeting Archer's gaze. "Let's do it. Let's make sure she knows exactly who she's dealing with."

Archer's smile widens, pushing away any of my remaining doubts. This is about justice, about making her pay. And we won't stop until she's truly broken.

The second Lyric shows up that morning, the rules go into effect. She puts up a token protest but knows she's got no leg to stand on after lying to us for so long.

"Since you have a kid, we're not going to hurt them," Archer tells her. "You can be there whenever you need to tend to them."

"Him," Lyric says quickly. "He's my son."

"Whatever," Archer says, rolling his eyes. "You'll have time to tend to him, but you'll be expected to be with us the remainder of your day."

Lyric chewed her lip. "Fine. I'll do whatever you ask. My only goal is to give my son a better life."

Something about that struck a nerve in me. I don't know why, but it makes me angry. Why can Lyric care about this child but not about the children she grew up with? Why did she have to hurt us back then?

I shove past Lyric, not wanting to look at her right now and head down to the common room, grabbing my bag to head for the library. I have class soon anyway, so I need time to clear my head.

Revenge is one thing, but having Lyric around is just a painful reminder that the past can never be changed. No matter what we do to her, it isn't going to erase all the bullshit that she put us through.

Some deep, dark part of me thought that once our need for revenge was satiated, there was some hope that we could reconcile or put the animosity behind us. But now, with the secrets being laid bare, I realize that was a stupid, pointless hope.

Once I'm at the library, I pull my laptop out, the scents of coffee and old books lingering in the air as I begin working on an essay for class. The soft murmur of conversation and the clack of keys distracts me from my thoughts. As a I throw myself into my paper, not allowing myself to think about anything but Sigmund Freud.

Twenty minutes later, my watch beeps, alerting me that it's time to pack up and go to class. My brain starts to circle back to thoughts of Lyric once again as I put my laptop away and I frown, annoyed at myself.

Her face swims into my head, seeing the pain in her eyes as we laid out the new rules. I don't even know what we're doing anymore. This stopped being about revenge and started becoming about control at some point.

Maybe it's a way to take back the control we felt was ripped away from us. No matter what she says, Lyric can't understand what was taken away from us when she went straight to the police. We knew half the town thought we were troublemakers and were just waiting for an opportunity to see us get taken down a peg.

But it's the other half who we thought were friends and family to us, whom we were hurt the most over losing. The pain of the loss still stings even now, several years later.

I'm conflicted because it feels like the thirst for revenge will never be enough and we could lose everything in our quest to quench it. We worked so hard to build new lives for ourselves and anxiety coils inside me at the idea of losing all that again.

But I also know this is about more than what Lyric took from us. This is about how she keeps lying to us, manipulating us and trying to turn us into the same pathetic kids who were once in love with her.

I don't want to be that kid again. I'm a man now and I'm strong enough to resist the temptation she offers. Having sex with her might feel good, but that's all it is. I need to remember that I'm still the one in charge.

Class goes by slowly and when I'm done, I head back to the frat house. Shooting off a text to Lyric, I tell her to bring me lunch and meet me in my room.

She arrives promptly, bringing a quinoa salad from the food court. I clear my throat as she comes in and sets down the food and she rolls her eyes.

"Seriously?" she asks. I don't budge, so she begins stripping her clothes off, dropping them on the floor unceremoniously.

She hands me the food and I grab her by the wrist before she can turn away. "Kneel," I order her. "You're going to sit at my feet while I eat."

A mix of expressions crosses Lyric's face before she sighs and begins to lower herself to the ground. I throw her a pillow from the bed, giving her something to rest her knees on and spread my thighs apart so she can sit between them as I begin to eat my food.

She looks so pretty sitting at my feet like this and my hand subconsciously strokes her curls. She stiffens a moment before glancing up at me, then looks back down at her thighs.

As I eat, I glance down every so often to check on Lyric and she seems to be lost in her own head. I wonder what she's thinking about and almost ask when I see tears streaking down her cheeks.

My heart leaps into my throat at the sight. What am I doing? I'm no better than the people from our hometown who cheered for our downfall, am I? My hand almost moves to cup her cheek, but I freeze, uncertainty taking over.

Before I can say anything, Lyric quickly wipes the tears from her eyes and juts her chin up, acting like nothing happened.

If that's how she wants to play things, then fine. I don't give a damn, either. Lyric knows she can't manipulate me as easily as she assumed, so she had to give it up.

A rush of anger overtakes me, remembering the way she had us so completely wrapped around her finger. I can't let her get to me like this. She cost us everything and I'm not about to let her do it all over again.

I pull away, needing some distance. "Go," I tell her. "Get dressed and get out of here."

With a confused expression, she grabs her clothes and dons them before heading out silently. If Lyric is going to be around us, I need to be better at maintaining distance.

I have to remember that she's the enemy here. She's the reason we lost so much in our lives. If not for her, who knows what life might have been like for us? With newfound resolve in my heart, I curl my lips into a sneer.

Lyric is going to regret the day she walked onto Sterling Heights campus if it's the last thing I do.