The next morning.
Eden stared at herself in the mirror.
No makeup.
No filters.
No hiding.
The girl looking back at her had been claimed — in body, in soul, in ways she never imagined possible.
But the world didn't care how soft his voice had been when he whispered "You're mine."
The world cared about evidence. Rumors. Power.
Hunter wasn't the safe choice.
He never had been.
She dabbed extra concealer over the faint bruise at her collarbone — the one his mouth had left.
But no amount of makeup could cover the fact that everything about her was different now.
This is who I am now. She told her reflection. Not broken. Not perfect. Just… real.
---
At School
The moment she stepped onto campus, the noise hit her.
Not the usual morning chaos — but something quieter.
Sharper.
Everyone was whispering.
And it was all about her.
"That's her."
"Hunter's girl."
"Did you see the picture?"
"She looks normal. Doesn't even dress like someone who—"
"Maybe that's her game. Look innocent. Act slutty."
Eden clenched her jaw and kept walking.
She didn't owe anyone an explanation.
But God, it burned.
She reached her locker and tried to focus.
Until a paper fluttered to the floor beneath it.
She picked it up.
It was a photo.
A blurred zoomed-in screenshot of her and Hunter. In bed. His body over hers. Her face half-hidden but unmistakable.
Sharpie ink across the bottom read:
"School slut of the year."
Her stomach flipped.
Her hands trembled.
How—?
"Breathe."
Hunter's voice came from behind her.
She turned, startled.
He picked up the paper, crumpled it tightly in one fist.
"Who gave this to you?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "It was just there."
He scanned the hallway. His eyes locked on a group of guys laughing near the stairwell. Hockey players. Liam's friends.
He didn't move.
But something in him shifted.
"Let it go," she said quickly. "It's not worth it."
"It is," he said through gritted teeth. "Because you're worth it."
---
Lunch Hour – Cafeteria
The entire cafeteria fell silent the moment Eden walked in.
It wasn't a pause. It was a shift.
She could feel the weight of eyes pressing down on her shoulders.
She grabbed her tray and sat in the far corner.
Alone.
Until Hunter sat next to her.
Just… dropped his bag and sat like he'd done it every day for a year.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like the whole school hadn't just been fed photos of them tangled in each other's skin.
"You don't have to sit here," she said softly.
He reached over and took a fry from her plate.
"I know. I want to."
Someone across the cafeteria muttered something too loud.
"Bet she screamed louder than that burger's crunch."
More laughter.
Hunter stood.
He didn't even say anything.
He just walked — straight across the room — and slammed his tray onto the center of the jocks' table.
The clatter was loud.
The room held its breath.
"You think it's funny?" he asked.
The guy who made the comment — Jesse — scoffed. "Relax, bro. It's just a joke."
Hunter's fist slammed down — hard — inches from his hand.
Jesse flinched.
"Try laughing again," Hunter said calmly. "Let's see what's funny when you're choking on your own teeth."
The table went silent.
Hunter looked around once — daring anyone to speak.
No one did.
He turned and walked back to Eden like nothing happened.
After School – The Stairwell
Eden found him there — alone — his back against the wall, hoodie up, fists in his pockets.
"Why do you do that?" she asked, voice soft.
"Do what?"
"Make everything worse for yourself. For me."
He didn't look at her. "They don't get to shame you. Not for something that was mine."
"I'm not a possession."
His jaw flexed.
"I know. But I can't help it. When I see them talking… mocking… all I want to do is break something."
She stepped closer.
"Then break me," she whispered.
He looked up.
"What?"
"If you're going to be the storm, Hunter… then let me be the lightning."
He grabbed her wrist — pulled her in.
Their bodies collided against the wall, breath to breath, heat to heat.
He didn't kiss her yet.
His hand slid under her shirt, resting just below her ribs, his thumb dragging slow circles across her bare skin.
"This is a bad idea," he murmured.
"I know."
His lips brushed her ear. "You taste like regret."
"I feel like fire."
And then he kissed her.
Hard.
Hot.
Unforgiving.
Their mouths met with a hunger that was almost violent, like they were trying to erase the world, just for a second. His hands pushed her deeper into the wall. Her fingers tangled in his hoodie, yanking him closer.
"Tell me you're mine again," he said against her lips.
"You know I am."
"Say it anyway."
"I'm yours."