Chapter 3: Where The Stone Watches

Noah Laurent had always been good at control. It was the only thing St. Valen’s respected more than money.

Control your posture.

Control your voice.

Control your future.

He had done all of it perfectly—quiet golden boy, heir apparent, mask carved into symmetry.

Then Althea Sombra walked onto campus, and his calm cracked like glass hit by a stone. He felt it still, hours later.

That moment in the courtyard when she appeared in black, every line of her deliberate and unbothered, Umbra shadowing her like a demon forged to protect her alone—he could feel it in his bones.

And worse: he wanted more.

He’d stopped himself from staring when she passed between him and Luca, chin tipped with that deceptively soft defiance. He’d even succeeded. Barely.

But now, he was doing something far more embarrassing.

He was looking for her.

Not obviously.

Not enough for anyone to notice.

Just… tracking the way the crowd shifted, the echo of Umbra’s nails on stone, the hush that followed wherever she stepped.

St. Valen’s didn’t quiet for anyone. Yet it went still for her.

He found her near the old fountain, half-lit by the courtyard torches. She stood with one hand resting lightly on Umbra’s back, head tilted as she listened to a girl speaking too fast, too eagerly.

Even here, surrounded by legacies, she didn’t fade. She absorbed the space.

He hated how that made his pulse tighten.

Luca got to her first - of course, he did.

He slid next to her with that loose, predatory posture he wore like a second skin. Green eyes glinting. Smile sharpened. His shirt collar was undone just enough to advertise that he had no intention of behaving.

He started walking, slow, steady, and deliberate. Not rushing - never that - but undeniably heading toward her.

Luca said something that made her laugh softly. He felt it like a hit to the ribs.

“Laurent,” Luca said without turning, as though he’d sensed him coming. “You’re late.”

“I wasn’t aware we had an appointment,” he replied, voice smooth as polished ice.

Althea’s gaze flicked between them - curious, discerning, far too intelligent.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

The question wasn’t idle. She was studying the tension like she was cataloging a battlefield.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“Totally fine,” Luca echoed.

It was not fine.

Althea exhaled like she saw straight through both of them.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” she said, brushing past them.

Luca moved to follow.

He stepped in front of him.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

Luca arched a brow. “Why? Planning to escort her personally?”

“I’m ensuring she isn’t harassed.”

“By whom?” Luca asked, smiling. “Me?”

Both men stared at each other. Not blinking. Not backing down.

The space between them stretched tight enough to snap.

Then Althea’s voice floated from behind them.

“You two done?”

They turned.

She stood with a glass of sparkling cider she clearly had no intention of drinking. Umbra planted at her heel like a shadow made of bone and devotion.

“Because I’m not interested in being the rope in a tug-of-war.”

Luca’s lips twitched. His jaw clenched.

She walked past them, and this time he didn’t fight the impulse - he followed.

He didn’t crowd her. Didn’t speak immediately. He just walked beside her, Umbra’s rumbling acceptance the only permission he needed.

“You don’t like parties,” he said eventually.

“I don’t like performing,” she answered.

Their eyes met.

Something low in his stomach tightened.

“You don’t perform,” he said quietly. “You shift the room.”

She blinked once, slowly, as if the words had landed somewhere she didn’t expect.

“That sounds like flattery, Mr. Laurent.”

“It’s an observation.”

Umbra nudged Althea’s hand reminding her to breathe. She stroked his head gently, her touch warm, unguarded in a way she never was with people.

That softness hit Noah harder than her fire did.

“Umbra’s loyal,” he said.

“He saved me,” she replied simply. “A long time ago.”

He wanted to know more. Wanted to ask. Wanted every unspoken piece of her. But he didn’t push - not yet.

“May I ask something?” he said quietly.

She nodded once.

“Why come tonight? You didn’t seem… inclined.”

A breath. Barely there. But enough.

“Curiosity, I suppose,” she admitted. “Or stupidity. Hard to tell sometimes.”

His lips tugged at the corner.

“Curiosity, then.”

“Why so sure?

“Because stupidity doesn’t look like this.”

He shouldn’t have said it that way. Too honest. Too sharp.

But she didn’t recoil.

She watched him, studying him the way she studied the school - assessing threats, weighing intentions, peeling back the mask he’d never allowed anyone to touch.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that.

Luca appeared again - of course he did - leaning against a lantern post like he’d grown out of it. “Mind if I steal her?”

He didn’t move.

“It’s her choice,” he said.

Althea sighed like she was utterly done with both of them.

“I’m going for some air,” she said. “Alone.”

Neither of them liked that. Umbra sure as hell didn’t.

She turned toward the edge of the courtyard, darkness thickening near the old stone archway. And when she stepped under it, both Noah and Luca followed, each from a different angle, each pretending they weren’t doing exactly the same thing - protecting. Tracking. Wanting.

None of them admitted it.

Yet.