Page 199 of Wicked Brutal

“You wish.”

“I wish you’d stop pretending being cruel makes you complicated. You’re not mysterious. You’re not misunderstood. You’re a spoiled little society parasite who learned early that being beautiful means nobody expects you to have anything worthwhile inside.”

Bella shoves him again. He catches her wrist. Instantly. Everything stops. His fingers close around it. Not hurting her. Not gentle either. Bella looks down at his hand. Then slowly back up.

“Let go of me.”

Iz does. Immediately. Her hand drops. For a second, neither says anything. Then Iz sits back down. Dismissal. That might be the cruelest thing he’s done yet. Bella stares at him. Iz picks up his drink.

“You really think you’re better than me,” she says, quieter.

“No.” He sets it down. “I think there has to be something there before you can compare it.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Bella’s face turns blank. Iz looks away from her. She should leave. Any sane person would. Bella Whelan has apparently never suffered from that affliction. Her gaze drops to the books beside Iz. Then the folder sticking out beneath them. A Johns Hopkins logo across the top.

She stops. Looks at it. Then at him. “What the fuck is that?”

Iz glances down. “My enrollment shit.”

“Enrollment for what?”

“Hopkins.”

Silence. Bella laughs. Once. But there’s nothing amused about it. “You’re fucking lying.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“You’re going to Johns Hopkins?”

“Yeah.” Her expression has changed completely. Not mean. Not smug. Genuinely blindsided. Iz notices. His eyes narrow. “Why?” Bella doesn’t answer. “Isabella.”

Penny looks between them. Then her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck.”

Bella points at her. “Not one fucking word.”

Iz turns toward Penny. “What?”

“I think you two should probably have this beautiful moment yourselves.”

“What fucking moment?” Iz looks at Bella again.

She folds her arms. “I’m going there too.”

Iz just stares at her. Then—“No.”

“I committed months ago, you narcissistic prick.”

“To Hopkins?”

“No, Isaac. Hogwarts.”

His expression hardens. “What major?”

“None of your business.”

“What major?”