The Vampire Prince Chose the Tribute Girl

Three days after Noah defended me, his seat was empty.

On the fourth day, his name disappeared from the class roster.

On the fifth, I found out his family had withdrawn him from Concordia.

Noah did not answer my messages.

I sent twelve before shame stopped me.

Are you okay?

Where are you?

Was this because of me?

The last one remained unread beneath the others, a row of small gray accusations.

Professor Hale confirmed only that the Mercer family had requested an immediate private transfer. When I called their residence, a secretary said Noah was unavailable.

He had been erased.

Daphne made sure I understood why.

“You ruin everyone who gets close to you,” she whispered as we passed between classes. “First Grandma. Now Noah. Maybe the prince will be next.”

I knew Grandma’s death had been caused by heart failure. I knew Daphne was cruel because cruelty made her feel powerful. The words still found the softest place in me.

Without Noah, lunch became a public sport again.

Sienna “accidentally” knocked my tray onto my lap. Miles Hart took a photograph while I cleaned sauce from my coat. Julian’s student-council friends blocked me from the quiet study rooms, claiming royal pets required special permits.

I reported none of it.

Lucien asked questions every evening.

Why was I limping?

Why had I stopped carrying my laptop?

Why did I flinch when my phone buzzed?

I gave him small, smooth lies. Crowded stairs. A repair shop. Too much coffee.

He never called me out on my lies. He only watched me with a restrained intensity that made my skin warm and my guilt deepen.

For all his terrifying stillness, Lucien had become the gentlest part of my days. He left treaty books outside my bedroom with notes folded between the pages. He remembered that I liked cinnamon in my tea. At dinner, his knee sometimes brushed mine beneath the table, a fleeting contact that stole the next sentence from my mouth.

I wanted to lean into that impossible warmth between us.

I was terrified he would discover how little I was worth.

After Miles dumped my notes into a fountain on Friday, I skipped the class and walked behind the science buildings. The campus narrowed there into service alleys, old brick walls, and a neglected greenhouse scheduled for demolition. Beneath its broken steps lived a one-eyed black cat I had been feeding since my first year.

“Hello, Professor Midnight,” I whispered.

The cat appeared from behind a pipe and wound around my ankles. I opened a tin of food with shaking hands.

“You missed Noah too, didn’t you?”

Midnight answered by attacking the fish.

I sat on the damp ground and hugged my knees.

“I should have told the truth in class. He defended me, and I let Daphne say that about him.” My voice broke. “I always tell myself I’m surviving. But maybe I’m just helping them hurt people.”

The cat ate without judgment.

Tears finally came. I pressed my face against my sleeves and let them.

“I don’t want Lucien to know,” I confessed. “He looks at me like I’m someone brave. If he sees what I really am, he’ll stop.”

A faint sound came from the greenhouse roof, too soft to identify. When I looked up, only shadow moved behind cracked glass.

The next morning, Daphne, Sienna, Miles, and four others were pulled from class.

By noon, rumors spread that the university had recovered security footage, witness statements, and months of abusive posts. Miles lost his student-council position. Sienna received academic probation. Daphne was suspended from coexistence events pending review. Julian was ordered to appear before the conduct board because his account had helped distribute photographs.

I was not the complainant. But it did not matter.

They decided I was guilty.

Daphne returned after lunch with fury stripped of polish. She seized my arm in the stairwell and drove me against the wall.

“You went crying to the king.”

“I didn’t.”

Sienna grabbed my bag. Miles stood at the landing, blocking the camera with his coat.

“You expect us to believe the royal family just guessed?” he said.

“I didn’t report you.”

“That’s her favorite trick,” Daphne said. “Act pathetic and make men fight for her.”

They dragged me through the basement corridor to a supply room used by the theater department. I kicked, shouted, and managed to scratch Sienna’s cheek. For one bright second, satisfaction cut through my fear.

Then Miles twisted my wrist until I cried out.

“Still clumsy,” Daphne said.

The storage room smelled of dust and paint. Clothing racks crowded one wall. Scissors, tape, and prop tools filled a long table. Miles locked the door while Sienna held up her phone.

Cold understanding hollowed my stomach.

“No,” I said.

Daphne picked up a pair of fabric shears.

I backed away. “Don’t.”

She caught a fistful of my hair. The blades closed beside my ear.

A thick brown lock fell to the floor.

They laughed.

She cut again, jagged and close. Hair slid down my shoulders and stuck to my wet cheeks.

“Maybe now the prince will see what you really look like.”

I fought harder. I drove my heel into Miles’s shin and nearly reached the door. Sienna struck me across the face with the phone. White light burst behind my eyes.

Then hands tore at my coat and uniform.

This was not teasing. It was not a prank. It was an assault.

I screamed until Miles clamped a hand over my mouth.

Daphne told Sienna to record. She said they would post the video if I ever spoke to Lucien again. They pulled away my outer clothes while I curled on the floor, using my arms to cover myself, shaking so violently my teeth struck together.

The phone lens stared without blinking.

Humiliation became something physical, a crushing weight over my chest. I could not get enough air. The room narrowed to Daphne’s voice, Miles’s grip, the cold floor against my bare shoulder.

Then footsteps sounded in the corridor.

Slow.

Heavy.

Everyone froze.

A knock struck the door once.

“Open it,” Lucien said from the other side.

Daphne released my hair.

No one moved.

The handle turned. The lock held.

Lucien’s voice came again, no longer controlled.

“Open. The. Door.”

A crack split through the wood.

Relief hit me too hard. The ceiling tilted. Somewhere, Sienna screamed. Miles ran backward into a clothing rack.

The door exploded inward.

I saw crimson eyes blazing through dust.

Then darkness took me.