The Villains Must Win-Chapter 125: Reid Graves 5

In the math and science club, Reid and the other nerds were deep in their world, equations scrawled across the whiteboard, half-built robots sprawled on the tables, and the faint scent of energy drinks in the air.

It was their domain, a place where numbers reigned supreme and social norms were secondary at best.

Then, the door swung open.

"Hello there, my lovelies. Mind if I join the team?" Tabitha sauntered in like she owned the place, her voice carrying an air of playfulness that made all the heads turn in surprise. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

Reid barely looked up from the circuit board he was soldering. His knobby fingers worked with precise efficiency, only pausing when he finally glanced at her.

He was the definition of a nerd—tall and lanky, with pale skin that clearly hadn’t seen much sunlight. His shoulder-length, unkempt white hair framed a pair of large amber eyes, magnified slightly by his thick glasses.

He had that frazzled, permanently sleep-deprived look of someone who lived off caffeine and quantum mechanics.

But despite his disheveled appearance, there was something about him that made Tabitha pause. Maybe it was the way he held himself, as if the whole world was just a complicated problem waiting to be solved. Or maybe it was the sharpness in his gaze, the quiet confidence that came from knowing he was always the smartest person in the room.

Because if there was one thing everyone knew about Reid Graves, it was that he wasn’t just smart—he was terrifyingly intelligent. The kind of genius that made Ivy League professors sweat and left his competition in the dust. It was almost unfair.

The man had an IQ of 190+, could read 20,000 words per minute, and had an eidetic memory, which basically meant he was Google before smartphones were a thing.

In the future, he had three PhDs before most people figured out how to do their taxes, and he could recite obscure facts faster than you could say "Wait, what?"

Reid was the kind of genius who could solve a crime scene like it was a Sudoku puzzle while simultaneously explaining quantum mechanics and the migratory patterns of pigeons.

But let’s be honest—his social skills were . . . a work in progress. For all his brilliance, he was also the guy who could talk for five minutes straight about statistics, only to realize that no one asked.

But hey, when you could outthink the best detectives out there and became a renowned serial killer who hadn’t got caught like Light in Death Note, quote classical literature, and still somehow look adorable while doing it, who needed small talk?

My very own handsome, adorable corpse, the soul inside Tabitha mused.

While Tabitha was busy sizing up Reid, he was doing the exact same thing to her.

She was hard to miss. A tall, chubby girl—easily twice his size—with a wild mane of neon-colored hair that looked like a Skittles factory explosion. Thick glasses sat on her nose, her bright dimpled smile entirely too confident for someone who had, up until recently, been the shy, self-conscious girl that most people barely noticed.

Now, she marched into their club like she owned the place, like the laws of physics bent to her will.

Reid knew who she was. Everyone did. And considering the absolute chaos she had caused in the past few days, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Just a week ago, Tabitha had been the awkward girl who kept her head down, dodging bullies like a professional escape artist. Now? She was apparently on a first-name basis with terrorizing them.

It made no sense.

There was no scientific explanation for such a drastic shift in confidence. No natural law could account for it. Unless, of course, she had somehow smacked her head hard enough to reboot her entire personality.

That seemed like the most plausible theory.

"Team’s full," one of the other nerds muttered, adjusting his calculator like it was a loaded weapon.

Tabitha raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That’s funny. I don’t remember asking."

The room went silent. A few of the nerds exchanged nervous glances. Reid, on the other hand, smirked slightly, finally setting down his tools. He leaned back in his chair, regarding her with mild amusement, as if she were a particularly interesting equation he was trying to solve.

"I don’t think you fit in here," he said, his voice low and smooth. Not cruel, not dismissive—just a statement of fact.

Tabitha crossed her arms, tilting her head. "And what exactly do I have to do to ’fit in’? Solve a complex algorithm? Build a homemade rocket? Beat you in a game of chess? Come on guys, I have glasses you have glasses. I think I practically belonged here."

"You don’t have our IQs," one of them stated.

Tabitha raised a brow. "Is there an IQ limit here? Clubs are supposed to be open to members, and from the way I see it, you’re seriously lacking in that department. So, you’re not exactly in a position to be picky."

Reid’s smirk widened just a fraction, a spark of challenge in his amber eyes. "You play chess?"

"No," she admitted, crossing her arms. "But I can flip the board really well when I lose."

The room fell into an awkward silence.

The other members of the club—pale, lanky, and socially underprepared for this level of chaotic energy—visibly tensed, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

One guy, who looked like he might pass out if someone raised their voice, clutched his Rubik’s cube like it was a stress ball. Another nudged his glasses up his nose and whispered, "Oh no, she’s one of those people."

Reid, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly entertained. His lips twitched, like he was trying (and failing) to suppress a smile. He leaned back in his chair, adjusting his glasses in that stereotypical genius villain way.

"Impressive," he said, nodding. "So not only are you a sore loser, but you also believe in total destruction as a coping mechanism. I respect the commitment."

Tabitha grinned. "What can I say? If I go down, everyone’s coming with me."

There was another awkward shuffle among the club members. One of them whispered, "She’s terrifying."