Chapter Thirteen

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You dance so flawlessly with the devil that you made him fall in love with your angelic heart.
-Jackie Francois

The text Cameron sent me had panic running through me as I read it under my desk in second hour.

I turn my phone off in a rush, one glance at Jessamine's smile makes me nervous and the fact that Xavier is sleeping beside me doesn't help.

"Jessie." I say, my mood causing my tone to snap her head up.

Her smile quickly turns into a frown. 

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"Cam lost my ring," I blurt. 

My best friend is confused for a second before paling. "When?"

"H-he doesn't know. It could be at home, in the car, ambulance, his house, school, somewhere on the ground." I gulp, my eyes stinging. "I need to leave. I need to find it."

"Calm down." She says softly, reaching to touch me but I flinch back -sending me into the Devil's muscled side. "We'll find it.

"That was my dad's ring. It's the last thing he gave me, the last thing I have to remember him by. The last thing I own that was my dads." My voice is so fast I don't know if she understands me. "What if we can't find it?"

Jessamine grabs my shaking hands, yanking me up from my seat. "Can you put our bags in my locker? Angel, please. We'll be back."

"Uh," Cal looks at me. "Sure."

She pecks his lips but is quick to pull me away to the teacher, I stand by the door as she offers some lame excuse for us to leave. 

Stuffing my hands under my armpits I rock on my heels, she plants her suddenly heavy hands on my shoulders and wills me to look at her. 

"What do you need?" Jessie asks.  

My eyes involuntarily drift to Xavier's sleeping form, noticing how he shifts like he's about to wake up. "Nothing," I choke out, realizing her gaze followed mine. 

"I can wake him up," She says softly.

I shake my head, looking away. "Don't bother, I'm not -I mean it's not worth it."

Pushing to doors open I stumble into the hall, my eyes on the ground as my mind begins to drift to my dad's ring.

It's a grey dragon- -tribute to our family's eye color- -with soft gold under it's wing and for eyes.

The day after those men were holding onto me and shot my dad he pushed it into my palm.

I tried to run to him, hug him maybe, do something that would offer him comfort in the moment but with the only man that didn't run, the one that actually shot him, holding me against the wall I couldn't.

He did whatever he wanted to me and all I could do was clutch onto that ring like a lifeline.

I did that so tight I had blood running down my wrist from where it's horns and sharpened tail were digging into me. Later I would find three scars on my palm, marking the occasion. 

The man threw me to the ground, stepped on my wrist in hopes I would let go of whatever valuable thing I had.

I didn't.

He spits one me. 

Tears stream down my eyes but I can't seem to close them, to sleep or pass out when I look at my clenched fist.

"You're dad's dead." He says this as if it's a common fact, like "The sky's blue." My mouth parts in a silent sob at the sound of his voice, it's a perfectly normal voice. It wasn't what I expected.

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