The art studio at Regal Heights was the one place Liana felt at peace.
It was tucked away behind the west wing, far from the buzzing drama of the main building. Sunlight poured in through tall windows, painting golden streaks across rows of easels and paint-stained desks. It smelled like turpentine and freedom.
This was her world.
She had just finished the final stroke of her latest piece—a charcoal portrait of a dancer caught mid-leap—when her art teacher, Ms. Kael, clapped softly behind her.
"Impressive," she said. "You've got serious talent, Liana. I'm submitting this for the Regal Showcase next week."
Liana's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Of course. Your scholarship demands excellence—and this is beyond that."
Liana beamed, pride swelling in her chest. Her art had always been her escape. Her power.
But that same afternoon, her world started to crack.
When she returned to the studio the next day, the portrait was gone.
Not just gone. Replaced.
In its place was a grotesque mockery—her original dancer distorted with monstrous features, its body smeared with red paint and cruel words carved into the canvas:
"FLUKE."
"CHEAT."
"NOT ELITE."
She stumbled back, heart slamming against her ribs. Her breath caught.
Someone had destroyed her work.
No—someone had planned this.
"Hey." A voice behind her. Bianca.
She took one look at the canvas and gasped. "Oh my god… Liana, who did this?"
Liana didn't answer. Her mind was already turning.
It wasn't just vandalism.
It was a message.
The Vipers.
They didn't like people stepping into their territory, especially not on scholarships. Especially not girls who didn't swoon at Xavier Blake's feet.
Liana clenched her fists, fighting the burn in her eyes.
A whisper floated down the hall from the open studio door. Laughter. Male voices. Loud, cocky. Familiar.
She stepped out into the hall and spotted them—Xavier and the Vipers—leaning against the lockers, chatting like royalty.
She walked straight up to them.
No fear. No hesitation.
Xavier turned, brows lifting. "Well, well. The artist."
"What's your problem?" Liana asked sharply. "Why mess with something that took me days to finish?"
The hallway went quiet.
Damien smirked. "No idea what you're talking about."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
Xavier's face didn't shift. Not even a blink.
"You paint," he said slowly, "which means you should know better than anyone: sometimes destruction makes better art."
Liana's jaw clenched. "That wasn't art. That was cruelty."
He stepped closer, just enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes.
"Maybe. Or maybe it was a challenge." His voice dropped. "Let's see what you do with it."
Then he turned, the others falling in behind him, and walked away like nothing happened.
Bianca hurried to Liana's side. "He's insane."
But Liana's eyes stayed locked on his retreating figure.
Her fingers curled.
Fine. If he wanted a war, she'd give him one.