Rain kissed the edges of the night as Elira ducked into the backseat of the waiting car. The moment the door shut, the engine revved to life, swallowing them into the shadows of the city.
She didn't speak. Neither did Talon.
He sat across from her in the dim cabin light, jaw tight, fingers steepled like he was holding back an earthquake.
"You're lucky you're not bleeding," he finally said.
Elira's head hit the seat rest. "He knew my name."
"He knows everything. That was the risk. We knew that."
"No. You didn't see him. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he already solved."
Talon leaned forward. "Did you plant the device?"
Silence.
She met his eyes. "I didn't get the chance."
"Then you failed."
"He was there, Talon. Not just present—watching. Me. The moment I moved, he moved. It wasn't coincidence."
He didn't reply. Just exhaled hard and stared out the window.
The silence between them wasn't just tension—it was history. Regret. Maybe even guilt.
"So what's next?" she asked after a beat.
Talon tapped the screen beside him. "We lay low. You go back to your cover identity. Finish the semester. No contact. We wait until he thinks you're gone."
Elira nodded. "Fine."
But her thoughts? Never fine.
They were electric.
Because the truth she didn't dare say aloud?
Even in that moment—cornered, exposed, hunted—she had felt something when Azriel Moreaux looked at her.
Not just danger.
Recognition.
A week passed.
Classes. Cafeteria coffee. Library nights. Lecture halls packed with murmurs and screens. She did her best to melt back into the skin of a student, the role she had worn for months.
But it no longer fit.
Because her mind? It was filled with gray eyes and slow smiles and the sound of a name whispered like a secret only he was allowed to know.
She didn't dream—she relived. Every encounter. Every word.
She tried to drown him in routine.
But he resurfaced every time she blinked.
Friday evening.
It started raining again. Heavy, pounding against the windows of her tiny dorm room. She stared at the dark clouds, heart heavier than the storm.
She hadn't heard from Talon.
But someone else had reached out.
A white envelope. Slipped under her door.
Red ink. Slanted script. Five words.
You left something with me.
No signature. No address.
But she knew.
Of course she knew.
She read it once. Twice. Burned it after the third.
And still felt it in her chest, like embers that wouldn't die.
Later that night, she sat on the rooftop. Hood up. Music playing from a cheap speaker beside her. She needed to clear her head.
But instead, it filled with questions.
Why hadn't he exposed her? Reported her? Killed her?
Was it a trap?
Or something worse?
Interest.
She hated the thought.
Even more, she hated that it thrilled her.
Her breath misted in the cold air. She pulled her coat tighter around her. Closed her eyes.
"You're not going to sleep tonight, are you?" a voice asked.
She didn't flinch. Didn't open her eyes.
"Go away, Priya."
Her roommate chuckled softly and sat down beside her. "You've been off lately."
Elira kept silent.
"If this is about the midterm—"
"It's not."
"Okay. Then is it about that guy you met at the gala? The one who couldn't stop staring at you like you were both dessert and a confession?"
Elira turned her head slowly.
"You saw that?"
Priya smirked. "Honey, everyone saw that. The way he looked at you... it was like a lion choosing his next sin."
Elira exhaled sharply. "It's complicated."
"Complicated? Or dangerous?"
She didn't answer.
"Be careful," Priya whispered after a moment. "Men who look like that... they don't let go easy."
Elira closed her eyes again.
He already hadn't.
Elsewhere in the city, behind a wall of men in suits and mirrors that hid more than reflections, Azriel sat alone in his study.
The fire crackled.
He sipped scotch and stared at the chessboard in front of him.
Two pieces remained.
The white queen.
And the black king.
He moved the queen forward. Set it down.
A slow smile crept across his face.
"Check," he murmured.
The door creaked open.
"Sir," his assistant said. "Intercepted transmission from Talon. He's ordered her to lay low."
"Good," Azriel said without looking up. "He's predictable."
"What do you want to do?"
He finally turned.
His eyes glinted like a blade drawn in candlelight.
"Let her rest. Let her breathe. Let her think she's safe."
He stood and walked to the window. Rain blurred the cityscape.
"And when she finally begins to forget me," he whispered, "remind her."
Elira was jolted awake by the sound of her phone buzzing.
Unknown number.
Message:
Check your mailbox.
She hesitated.
Then stood. Slipped her feet into worn sneakers. Pulled a hoodie over her tank top.
The hallway was quiet. Most students still asleep.
She reached the dorm lobby, unlocked her box.
Inside:
A velvet box.
Deep red.
She opened it slowly.
Inside: a single black ribbon, coiled like a serpent.
And a note beneath it.
You looked divine in red. But you'll wear this for me next.
Her hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From something else entirely.
Obsession had never looked so elegant.
And it had her name etched into its smile.
————
To be continued... 🖤