She’s Back, and Hell’s Coming with Her novel Chapter 93

The boys in class looked on in terrified disbelief, each one thinking Sabrina must be out of her mind—she actually dared to give him an order. If she pissed off Shawn, that was a risk no one could afford, least of all her.

Sure, she could hold her own in a fight, but Shawn was on a whole different level. Besides, he had a dozen guys backing him up. If things got physical, Sabrina wouldn’t stand a chance.

Shawn’s crew, standing behind him, tensed at the sight of such a brazen girl. Every one of them clenched their fists, flexing their wrists as if eager for a brawl.

They stared her down with hostile, predatory eyes, ready to teach this reckless girl a lesson. In their world, there was no such thing as “real men don’t hit women”—they only believed in hitting those who deserved it, regardless of gender.

Shawn narrowed his eyes, sizing up the girl in front of him with a lazy kind of amusement. He took two slow steps back, slid his right hand out of his jeans pocket, and slung his jacket over his shoulder.

Then he strolled over to an empty desk, pulled out the chair, and sprawled into it—one leg dangling, the other bent. There was something both careless and alluringly disheveled about him, a kind of decadent charm.

Shawn’s laid-back, unpredictable move stunned the class into silence once again.

No one could understand why he didn’t just toss her out of the room.

Was he really letting her share a desk with him?

Was he actually tolerating her attitude?

His crew looked at one another, completely thrown.

They glanced from the now-seated Shawn to the unruffled girl beside him.

This wasn’t right. Shawn wasn’t the type to go soft just because a girl was pretty, was he?

Lacy, Ayla, and the others were still reeling from shock.

This girl didn’t seem to care about Shawn’s reputation at all—how was he letting her get away with it? Was it because she was good-looking, so he couldn’t bring himself to hit her? No way. Absolutely impossible.

This was Shawn, after all—the Shawn who never let any girl get under his skin.

What was going on?

Up at the front, Megan finally let out a relieved breath, grateful that a fight hadn’t broken out. She slipped her phone back into her purse, opened her book, and called the class to order. “Let’s begin.”

The four morning classes dragged by.

All day, the school was buzzing about one thing.

Shawn had a new desk mate.

“What the hell are you doing here, you broke loser?” one of the boys sneered, blocking his way to the card scanner. “Go back to the first floor!”

“Yeah, quit pretending you belong,” a girl chimed in mockingly. “You’re just a charity case—special admission or not, you don’t know your place, do you?”

“Zeke, move it. We want to eat. The first floor is where you belong. Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”

“Look at that pathetic face. Go back downstairs.”

“Know your place, and get lost. Otherwise, I won’t be so nice.”

“Can you believe a kid on free lunch thinks he can eat up here? Unbelievable.”

“Get out of the way!”

With everyone pointing and jeering, Zeke clenched his fists, desperately wanting to stand up for himself—but he knew all too well what would happen if he did.

He’d worked so hard to get into Petersburg International, finally solving his tuition and living expenses, and on top of that, he even got a $700 monthly stipend—a godsend for a family like his.

The first floor was the free meal zone: one portion per student, no seconds, no takeout.