Amara's POV
When Theodore spoke those words, the Hopper father and son went rigid, their faces blank with shock.
Amara... Amara was Theodore's senior student under the same mentor? They still couldn't wrap their heads around it.
Winston snapped out of it first. "Uh... Amara, I..."
I lifted my hand, cutting him off.
"If you'd actually listened to what I told you, you wouldn't be standing here right now, Winston," I said, my tone completely level. "You treated my words like garbage."
My voice was emotionless, and that last part wasn't a question—just cold fact.
Something shifted in Winston's expression, like ice water had hit his veins.
He'd always known I was weird, that I had a sharp tongue.
But right now, it clicked for him.
I wasn't just sharp-tongued—I was used to being in charge.
That kind of presence couldn't be faked.
It meant that most of the time, most people I dealt with showed me respect.
"Amara..." Winston tried again.
