Ling didn't let her leave like that.
She followed Rhea down the corridor, steps fast, sharp — control barely holding.
"Rhea," Ling called. "Wait."
Rhea stopped.
Didn't turn.
Ling slowed, swallowing whatever was stuck in her throat. "You misunderstood. I was angry. I didn't mean—"
Rhea finally faced her, eyes flat. "No need to explain."
That calm scared Ling more than shouting ever could.
"I don't need your reasons," Rhea continued quietly. "I've heard enough."
Ling frowned. "Then why did you stop."
Rhea took a step closer. Then another.
Too close.
Before Ling could react, Rhea grabbed her collar and pinned her back against the wall, forearm firm at Ling's chest. Not violent — controlled. Deliberate.
Students passed at a distance. No one dared come closer.
Ling's breath caught, not from fear — from the reversal.
Rhea leaned in, voice low, steady, deadly calm.
"So," Rhea said, "where is it."
Ling's eyes narrowed. "Where is what."
Rhea's grip tightened just enough to make the point clear. "Don't play stupid with me, Ling."
Ling scoffed, trying to regain ground. "Get off me."
Rhea didn't.
"The ring," Rhea said. "The one you stole."
Ling laughed once, sharp and dismissive. "I don't have it."
Rhea searched her face — not her posture, not her power — her eyes. Like she used to.
"Lie better," Rhea said softly.
Ling's jaw clenched. "I said I don't have it."
Rhea's lips curved, but there was no humor in it. "Funny. Because it doesn't disappear on its own."
Ling pushed lightly at Rhea's arm. "You're imagining things again."
That did it.
Rhea leaned closer, forehead almost touching Ling's. "You always say that when you're caught."
Ling's voice dropped, dangerous now. "Careful."
Rhea smiled — sad, sharp. "You don't scare me anymore."
Silence snapped tight between them.
"You took it," Rhea said. "Because you couldn't stand losing even that."
Ling shook her head. "You don't get to accuse me after everything you did."
Rhea's eyes hardened. "This isn't about what I did."
She released Ling suddenly, stepping back.
"This," Rhea continued, voice colder now, "is about what you're still doing."
Ling straightened her jacket, pride rushing in to cover the crack. "Believe whatever helps you sleep."
Rhea nodded slowly. "I will."
She turned away again.
Ling watched her go, fists clenched, pulse loud in her ears.
The ring pressed heavy against her pocket — unseen, undeniable.
And for the first time, Ling realized something dangerous:
Rhea wasn't chasing answers anymore.
She was done begging for truth.
Ling didn't let her go.
Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Rhea's wrist, hard, instinctive. She pulled Rhea back and pinned her against the wall again — this time the roles fully reversed.
Rhea gasped, back hitting the cold surface. She struggled, pushing at Ling's chest, but Ling was stronger — always had been.
"Let me go," Rhea snapped, voice breaking despite herself.
Ling leaned in, eyes dark, breathing uneven. "No."
Rhea froze.
Ling's grip tightened just enough to stop her, not to hurt her. Her other hand pressed beside Rhea's head, trapping her completely.
"I'll let you go," Ling said low, dangerous, "but first you tell me something."
Rhea turned her face away.
Ling followed, forcing eye contact.
"Why are you crying."
Rhea laughed — a small, hollow sound. "I'm not."
A tear slipped anyway.
Ling saw it.
Her jaw clenched. "Don't lie to me."
Rhea swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, trying to force control back into her voice. "I said I'm not crying. You don't get to ask me that anymore."
Ling's thumb brushed against Rhea's wrist unconsciously — then stopped, like she'd burned herself.
"You were fine a second ago," Ling said. "You don't cry over nothing."
Rhea's lips trembled. "You think you know what nothing feels like?"
Ling stiffened. "Answer me."
Rhea snapped back, anger finally cracking through. "Why do you care? You just said I have no sense. No brain. Just a goon don who pulls collars."
Ling's eyes flickered.
"That's not—"
"You said it," Rhea cut in, tears finally spilling. "You said it when you thought I couldn't hear. That's the worst part."
Ling's grip faltered for a fraction of a second — then tightened again, as if afraid to lose control.
"I was angry," Ling said harshly. "You push me. You always push me."
Rhea laughed again, bitter. "So this is what I get for caring."
Ling's voice dropped. "Stop crying."
Rhea met her eyes, shattered but defiant. "Make me."
Silence crashed between them.
Ling stared at her — the tears, the anger, the exhaustion — and for a moment her dominance wavered, something raw clawing at her chest.
But she hardened again.
"You don't get to break in front of me," Ling said. "Not after everything."
Rhea's shoulders shook. "I'm not breaking for you."
Ling's eyes narrowed. "Then why."
Rhea whispered, voice barely holding together:
"Because I trusted you… even when everyone told me not to."
That landed harder than any slap.
Rhea tried to pull her wrist free again, panic and anger mixing, but Ling's grip held — firm, unyielding, desperate in a way Ling herself didn't want to name.
"Let me go," Rhea said, breath shaking.
Ling shook her head once. "No."
Rhea struggled harder. "People are watching."
Ling leaned in, their foreheads almost touching. "I don't care."
"You always care," Rhea whispered, tears blurring her vision. "Just not about me."
That did something to Ling.
Her breathing grew uneven. Her grip loosened for a split second — then she pulled Rhea closer instead, chest to chest, voice rough and low.
"Say it again," Ling said. "Say I don't care."
Rhea swallowed. "You proved it."
Ling's eyes searched Rhea's face — the tears, the trembling, the defiance barely holding together. Her control cracked.