CHAPTER SEVEN,

'REVERSALS'

The community center had become her home away from home. Even at college, it was one of the few places where she felt truly comfortable. Perhaps because she'd been coming here since she was a child. So much of her childhood was spent in its halls that the familiarity had stuck with her. To her, it was the closest thing to normalcy—the only place where her identity didn't seem to matter.

The kids she coached couldn't care less about whose daughter or sister she was. To them, she was just happy, clumsy Mar.

Today, she was assistant coach to Coach Cole, a former WNBA player who had initially volunteered at the community center as a favor to her father ages ago. But her father was persuasive, and despite all her complaints, Natalie Cole had taken a full-time position at the center upon retiring. Afterward, the number of young girls playing sports there seemed to double overnight.

When the last parent arrived to pick up their child, Mar sat in the bleachers. Grabbing a towel, she wiped the sweat from her brow and took a sip from her water bottle. Despite how young the girls were, they could play a vicious game of basketball. They hated to lose—something they all had in common.

"You're out of practice, Mar. Your jump shot's gone to shit." Natalie grinned, grabbing her own bottle from the bench. "And don't give me that crap about going easy on them. Since when have you ever gone easy on anyone? Not even the kids."

Mar shrugged, leaning onto her elbows. There was some truth to her words. Since quitting sports, she hadn't really played much. She did join club sports, yes—but only sporadically. The first time she arrived at a club basketball meeting, people spent too much time staring and whispering instead of listening to the club leaders. When the meeting ended, she was pulled aside and politely asked, in not-so-subtle terms, to attend less often. And so she did.

When the stares persisted in her other clubs, she decided it wasn't worth the effort.

"I've just been busy with school," she said finally. "And even if I'm out of practice, I can still beat you, old lady."

Natalie snorted, rolling her eyes. "In your dreams, you little shit." Mar grinned wordlessly, taking another sip from her bottle.

"Speaking of school—"

"Please." Mar held up her hand, cutting her off. "Don't tell me he got to you too?"

Her father had been set on broadcasting her academic struggles, she was certain. Who was next? TMZ?

"Hold your horses, kid," Natalie sat next to her, shaking her head. "I was just going to ask how things were going. You go to college and suddenly get sensitive about the weirdest things. Your dad just wanted me to check on you, after everything."

There was no point in asking what she meant by everything. A few days after the incident she'd witnessed over the summer, Declan and Nate—people she thought were friends—had the audacity to try and speak with her at a café. Instead of ignoring them like she wanted to, she'd ended up breaking Declan's nose. The internet saw everything. So did her family.

It was all anyone talked about for weeks. Her father, her uncles, even Natalie—it was "concerning." Declan had been her best friend, after all. And now, no one understood why they didn't speak.

The questions had eventually stopped, but the concern didn't. For the first time in her life, Mar was utterly alone.

"Tell him I'm fine," she said, shrugging it off. "He doesn't have to worry. You don't have to worry. I even made a friend—her name's Lori. We're going to a party in a few days. I'm completely, totally, perfectly fine."

Her tone left no room for argument, but Natalie's expression suggested she didn't believe her. The older woman parted her lips to respond, but the sound of the gymnasium door opening interrupted her.

Mar turned toward the door, her heart sinking into her stomach.

Zen Isik sauntered into the gym like he belonged there.

Her throat dried as panic bloomed in her chest, but she couldn't look away.

What was he doing here? What the hell was he doing here?

Natalie rose from her seat, frowning. "Hello," she greeted cautiously. "Can I help you?"

A charming smile played on his lips as he addressed her. "I'm here to speak with Mar, ma'am," he said. "We have some business. Don't we, Mar?"

He turned that false smile on her, and she wished the floor would swallow her whole.

When she didn't move, he raised a brow. "Or would you rather we talk here?"

Her eyes widened slightly, darting between him and Natalie uneasily. He wouldn't, would he? He wouldn't dare. But as her mind replayed what she'd overheard weeks ago, she realized he absolutely would.

She rose quickly, trying to mask her panic. "Nat, um, I'll be right back." Her voice was barely audible, but she didn't wait for Natalie to respond.

She didn't process anything as she led Zen to the front of the building, her steps heavy like she was marching to her doom. Once outside, she walked a bit farther, putting distance between them and the door to ensure no one overheard whatever shameless words he might say.

Finally, she stopped. Turning briskly, she crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her dark, intimidating eyes at him.

"What are you doing here?" She asked through gritted teeth. "I don't know whatever Townsend told you, but I didn't blackmail her. She blackmailed herself, I just—"

She stopped when he reached into his pocket, thinking he was removing a weapon or something, and removed his pack of cigarettes. As if he had no care in the world, he silently lit the offending thing and leaned back against the wall. Watching her. Studying her.

His dark eyes traveled the length of her body, studying the tight, fitted black jacket that clung to her and lingering on the flared leggings she wore. It was a simple outfit, form fitting in a way that didn't bother her when she played basketball. It felt like skin, simply put, and was something she wore often. Paired with a high, slick bun, she was completely in her element. Only now, she felt self-conscious under his gaze.

Mar shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. "You wanted to talk, so talk already. And stop staring at me like that," she snapped.

"Like what?" he asked, his lips curling into a lazy grin as smoke curled from his mouth.

"Like..." She faltered, heat rising to her cheeks. "Like whatever the hell that is."

Zen's grin didn't budge. "You're always this charming, or do I bring it out in you?"

"Charm you?" Mar rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "In what universe? You show up out of nowhere, practically drag me outside, and now you're smoking in my face?" Her brow arched in disbelief. "If this is your idea of charming, I'm about to get real fucking delightful if you don't get to the point."

His eyes flicked over her again, amusement faintly glinting. He hummed, exhaling smoke as those entirely unfazed. "Noted."

"And stop staring at me like that. It's not intimidating, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not scared of you." Despite herself, she met his gaze. "Anyway, why are you here? I haven't told anybody anything about what I saw, so what do you even want? Why'd you even show up here?"

His gaze locked onto hers, the amusement in his eyes darkening so suddenly, she blinked. "I just want to make sure we're clear."

"Clear?" She instinctively stepped back, her heart pounding. "I already told you, I didn't—"

"You didn't blackmail her, right," he interrupted, his tone carrying a bored edge as he pushed off the wall, taking a step toward her. "That's your story, and you're sticking to it. But here's the thing, Alexander—"

"Uh uh. Nope. None of that." She shook her head, her tone sharp and wary as she took another step back. "You can talk from right over there. Come any closer, and I'll fuck you up. I mean it."

She was a black belt. She kickboxed for fun. Fighting was second nature—she'd done it all her life, with her brothers, with her friends. But something about him unsettled her. Her skin prickled, and the last thing she wanted was to find out if that eerie feeling was more than a hunch.

Zen's grin widened as he took another drag from his cigarette, flicking the ash onto the pavement. "Oh no. I'm shaking."

He didn't stop. As he took another step forward, she swung without warning, her fist flying toward his face. But he caught it with ease, twisting her arm behind her back in one fluid motion. Using the momentum, he pinned her firmly against the brick wall, his body weight holding her in place. The air rushed from her lungs as the back of her head hit the wall with a jarring thud.

Before she could even think to kick, Zen's knee pressed firmly between her legs, pinning her against the wall with unnerving swiftness. The cigarette still smoldered between his fingers, as if this were the most casual altercation in the world. He brought the bud to his lips, inhaled deeply, and blew smoke directly into her face.

Mar coughed, her glare blazing. "Get off me, psycho!"

"This all you got?" he taunted, his voice low and smug. "What a shame. I was really looking forward to you fucking me up."

"Get. Off!" Her free hand shoved at his chest, but his grip was ironclad. "You're crazy—"

"And you're predictable," he interrupted, his tone sharp yet playful, sending a chill through her. His face hovered above hers, infuriatingly calm. Despite the casual air he wore, his eyes seemed to darken. "I'm crazy? Alexander, you've got some nerve. Who the hell blackmails their professor if they're not out of their mind? If anyone's crazy, it's you."

"Don't call me crazy! You're crazy!" Her hand shot up without thinking, gripping the back of his hair and yanking it hard. His head snapped back, the muscles in his neck straining. His cigarette toppled to the ground.

Zen grunted, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second as he loosened his grip just slightly. "Alexander," he growled, his tone laced with warning.

"Don't 'Alexander' me!" she snapped, her legs hiking up around his waist as she leveraged the hold she had on his hair. "You're both crazy! She blackmailed herself, and now you're calling me crazy? Get off!"

Was she on him now? Or were they both on each other? Whatever—he needed to get off!

"I advise you to stop, Alexander," he drawled, but she wasn't listening. Her fingers twisted further into his hair, yanking harder. She felt his warm breath brush against her neck, an entirely unwelcome shiver running down her spine.

Zen groaned low, the sound a mix of irritation and... amusement? "Pull any harder," he murmured, his voice dark and teasing, "and you'll find out just how much I like it."

Her stomach turned. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and disgust rippled through her.

"Ew," she muttered, her nose wrinkling in revulsion. She released his hair as though it burned her. "Ew, ew, ew. What is wrong with you?"

Zen's laugh echoed, deep and rich, as though her frustration was the most amusing thing he'd encountered all day. "Coming from you, I should be flattered," he said, his voice low and mockingly smooth. His knee stayed firm between her legs, his chest pressing against her as he held her in place with an ease that made her blood boil. "But enough games, Alexander. Let's focus. We need to talk."

"No, we don't," she shot back, her free hand still pushing against his chest as she twisted slightly in a futile attempt to create space between them. "Whatever you think I did, you're wrong. So just leave me alone. And get. Off. You reek."

His cologne wafted around her, and despite herself, it smelled...nice. Which only made her more annoyed.

Zen chuckled, dark eyes glittering. He seemed to find her reaction hilarious, and it only made her angrier. She couldn't stand the way he looked at her, as though she were some sort of amusing plaything. He wouldn't find her half as amusing when she headbutted him in the nose.

She paused, considering doing just that, but he shook his head, tutting softly as though he could see right through her. His expression turned serious, his eyes locking onto hers.

"We're going to do this again, Alexander? You really don't know why I'm here? Take a guess." His voice was low, smooth, but carried an edge that made her throat dry. "You're a smart girl. You can do that for me, can't you?"

What was with his tone? That weird, smooth thing he was doing with his voice? Did he have something stuck in his throat?

She blinked, her mind scrambling. "Let's start with this, then," he continued, leaning closer. "That test you cheated on doesn't ring a bell?"

"C-cheated?" she stammered. Under his piercing gaze, it felt impossible to hide anything. She was a terrible liar at the best of times, and now her tongue felt like lead. Because even if she hadn't blackmailed Townsend, she definitely cheated.

"I-I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"I-I-I bet you don't," he mimicked, dubiously. "You always stutter when you lie?"

She did, actually. But that wasn't his business. Her glare intensified, but she didn't respond. His knowing smirk was infuriating enough.

"I didn't blackmail her, and I didn't cheat," she said, her voice steady despite the heat rising in her cheeks. "I'm stupid, right? Just like she said. So how could I even think to blackmail her? She's so...smart."

She grit out the last word like it physically pained her, and her glare could have set something on fire. Instead of convincing him, it only made him chuckle.

"Stupid is the last word I'd use for you," he said, his grin sharpening. "But let me guess. What you heard in the office, what you said to the professor, none of it rings a bell?"

He leaned closer then, his shadow stretching over her, his tone dipping into something low and dangerous, almost a purr. "You don't know what I'm talking about this time, either?"

"Right. You're good at this game. Really good," she said, her voice tinged with forced sarcasm as she pushed against his chest. "But I've got...stuff to do, so—"

Before she could finish, his hand caught hers, holding it there. The warmth of his skin through his shirt and the roughness of his fingers against her wrist made her glare sharpen.

"Not so fast, Alexander," He said smoothly, "We're talking."

"We really, really don't have to do that," her words were more of an exhausted whine. "We've got nothing to talk about, believe me. How about you go your way, Townsend goes hers, and I pretend I never met you? Actually, who are you again, mister? I don't talk to strangers. Stranger-freaking-danger, bye-bye."

His lips curled faintly, a small, amused smirk playing on his face. "We've got plenty to talk about."

Her patience snapped. She yanked her wrist free from his grip with a sharp tug, immediately grabbing his collar and pulling him closer. Zen's eyes widened briefly—surprise flashing across his face before melting into something more unreadable. Her dark eyes burned with frustration as she leaned in, her grip tightening on his shirt.

"I've tried to mind my business. I've kept my mouth shut. I even cross the street when I see her. I've gone to her stupid class, I haven't said a single word, and I wasn't ever planning to. But if you don't leave me alone?" She leaned closer, her voice lowered dangerously, "I'll tell. I'll tell everyone I know. I'll tell anyone who'll listen."

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, his smirk broadening. "Tell?" he echoed softly. "And what, exactly, would you tell?"

"All of it," she said, her chin jutting up defiantly. "I'll tell everyone. Every last detail. Don't think I won't—"

"Go ahead." He interrupted smoothly, cutting her off mid-threat. "We'll see who believes you. Mar Alexander, right? An obsessed little girl stalking me, chasing after my brother like a fan-turned-psycho, spinning lies to get attention. Blackmailing me. And when I didn't give you what you wanted, the lies just kept coming."

Her breath hitched, her eyes widening at the audacity of his words. "No one will believe you. You're crazy—none of that is true!"

"Tell that to TMZ." He shrugged, his smirk sharpening into something wicked. "They don't care about the truth, Alexander. All they want are clicks. I can see the headlines now." His voice dropped mockingly, his gaze unwavering.

"Mar Alexander—Crazed Stalker."

Her mouth went dry as her resolve crumbled under his scrutiny. While her brothers were constantly hounded by paparazzi, she had managed to enjoy a relatively private life. But one headline—one lie tying her to Zen's infamous brother—would shatter that peace in an instant.

Evil. Zen Isik was pure evil incarnate.

He watched her carefully, his eyes narrowing as he searched her face. When her expression went cold and silent, his smirk widened.

"Well, now that we're clear..." Zen stepped back fully, finally releasing her. He tucked his hands into his pockets, the picture of smug contentment. "I'd get used to seeing my face. Make this easy for me, Alexander, and maybe—just maybe—I'll make it easy for you."

Mar stumbled slightly as her legs fully touched the ground, catching herself with a glare. She shoved at his chest, the action more reflexive than forceful, but he only chuckled, turning on his heel with infuriating smugness.

"Good night, Alexander," he called over his shoulder, his voice dripping with mock amusement. "Try not to lose too much sleep over me."

Mar stood frozen, heart pounding, her mind racing to piece together how she'd lost control so thoroughly. When his footsteps finally faded, she let out a shaky breath, her hands clenching into fists as she glared at the empty space he'd left behind.

How had this all gotten turned around on her?