Cain leaned against the rusted railing on the rooftop, watching the world below with eyes that no longer saw it the same. Students moved like insects, oblivious to how close they were to something they couldn't understand. Something that used to be one of them.
The wind tugged at his hair. The clouds were thicker today, shielding the sun from burning him. He had time. He had focus. And his next target was already unraveling.
Amara Quinn.
She was the second cruelest after Serena—maybe even worse. Where Serena led with venom and charm, Amara was ice and steel. A star student with a smile that could melt hearts and a tongue that could destroy lives.
Cain remembered it all.
The day in the locker room. The day he broke.
Amara had filmed everything. Laughing. Zooming in on his body while he lay naked, broken, humiliated. She shared it in secret group chats, made sure it circled the school like wildfire. Not even the teachers knew—no one dared speak up.
But Cain hadn't forgotten.
And now, neither would she.
In the library, Cain moved like shadow. Silent. Confident. The Mask of Control cloaked his presence again, making him blend seamlessly into the background while enhancing his magnetism to those attuned to him.
He didn't need to look for Amara. He could sense her—sharp-minded, proud, cold. She sat near the back, curled over her laptop, legs crossed in her usual poised way. Glasses on. Dark lipstick. That aura of superiority she wore like a crown.
Cain circled once, letting his scent, his aura, and his attention subtly invade her space.
Her fingers paused on the keys.
She glanced up.
Their eyes met.
For the first time in her life, Amara Quinn's gaze wavered. She blinked once. Twice. A flush crept to her cheeks—and she didn't understand why.
Cain sat across from her without a word.
Amara narrowed her eyes. "You want something?"
Cain leaned forward slowly, elbows on the table. "I want a lot of things."
Amara scoffed, trying to bury the nervous twitch in her lips. "You've been acting strange lately. Almost... bold."
Cain smirked. "Strange how?"
"You think you're mysterious. Dangerous, even." She stared hard, but her voice didn't land with the usual sharpness.
Cain's aura pulsed. Her bravado was cracking.
He tilted his head. "You talk big for someone who's been dreaming about me."
Amara laughed, but it was thin. "Excuse me?"
"You see me in your sleep now, don't you?" Cain's voice dipped, velvet and venom. "Me... standing over you. Watching. Taking back what you stole."
Amara's hands clenched under the table.
Cain leaned in further, his eyes boring into hers. "You remember that day. The locker room. What you did."
Her pupils dilated. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Liar."
He said it softly, but it shook her.
Cain stood suddenly and walked around the table. Amara turned as he stopped behind her, placing a hand gently—casually—on the back of her neck. She froze.
He lowered his mouth to her ear.
"You've buried the guilt for too long," he whispered. "But it's bubbling now. I can taste it."
She shivered.
"Meet me tonight. Room 2-E. Come alone. Or the video gets played at the next school assembly."
Her breath hitched. She turned, but Cain was already gone.
That night, Cain sat in Room 2-E—an abandoned music room on the second floor. Moonlight dripped through the cracked windows like silver blood. Dust danced in the still air.
He waited.
The hunger inside him stirred, not from starvation—but anticipation.
And then the door creaked open.
Amara stepped in slowly, dressed in black tights and a hoodie. Her hair was tied in a messy bun. No makeup. No armor.
She locked the door behind her.
"I'm here," she said, arms folded tightly.
Cain rose from the piano bench and walked toward her. "Good."
Amara's voice wavered. "You're bluffing. About the video."
Cain said nothing. He simply pulled a flash drive from his coat pocket and held it up.
Her eyes widened.
"You… actually saved it?"
"I don't forget pain," Cain said. "Not mine. Not yours."
She looked away. For the first time, Amara Quinn looked small.
"I didn't mean to…" she began, but the words caught in her throat.
Cain stepped closer.
"You recorded me at my lowest. You laughed. And then you shared it. For what? Clout? Power?"
"I…" she whispered, tears brimming. "It was a joke. A horrible one. I didn't think... you'd break like that."
"I broke," Cain said coldly. "And now, so will you."
Amara's breath trembled. "What do you want from me?"
Cain reached out. His fingers brushed her cheek.
"I want your shame."
She inhaled sharply.
"I want you to feel what I felt," he continued, "but I'll let you keep your dignity... if you surrender."
Amara's pride fought to resist. But her body betrayed her. The touch of Cain's hand on her skin… the weight of his presence… it dissolved her will like salt in rain.
Slowly, she knelt.
Not from fear.Not from a command.
From something deeper.Submission born of guilt.
Cain knelt with her, placing two fingers under her chin.
"You will serve me," he said, voice low. "Willingly. You will call me master in private. You will look me in the eye when I take what I want."
Amara blinked. "And if I refuse?"
He smirked. "You won't."
He leaned in.
Their lips almost touched.
[Emotion Drain activated][Hunger reduced to 60%][Seduction increased to 5][Aura increased to 5][New Trait Unlocked: Guilt-Bound Link] –Target remains emotionally tethered to Cain through a cycle of guilt and arousal.
Later that night, Cain walked alone through the courtyard.
The wind carried whispers again. New ones.
A girl had been seen leaving the old music room, hair a mess, face flushed, legs trembling.
They didn't know who.
But Cain did.
His web had claimed its second prize.
In her room, Amara curled under her blankets, fingers pressed to her lips. She hated herself. And she hated how alive she felt.
She dreamt of him that night. Not as the boy she once humiliated.But as a dark king sitting on a throne made of memory and regret.