Chapter 4: The Eyes That Follow

The following days blurred into an uneasy rhythm. Classes, notes, endless reading. On the surface, everything seemed normal—students rushing between lectures, gossip swirling through the courtyard, the smell of coffee lingering from the café at the edge of the quad.

But no matter where I went, I felt it.

Eyes.

Damien’s eyes.

Sometimes it was subtle—catching him leaning against a wall across campus, casually scrolling his phone but always angled toward me. Sometimes it was blatant—him striding into the library only to sit three rows behind me, not opening a single book.

And sometimes it was… unbearable.

Like in the dining hall.

---

I had grabbed a tray of food—cheap pasta, because that’s what my scholarship allowance stretched to—and found a table tucked away at the corner. I was halfway through my meal when the buzz in the room shifted, like ripples spreading across a pond.

Damien had entered.

Of course he had.

He didn’t even carry a tray. People offered him theirs like tribute, laughing too loudly, eager to be noticed. He didn’t so much walk as glide through the space, magnetic, untouchable.

And then—inevitably—his gaze swept the room. Landed on me.

My fork froze.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

Slowly, deliberately, he started toward me.

My pulse skyrocketed. I scrambled to shove my tray aside, ready to bolt before he could reach me—

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

I blinked. The voice wasn’t Damien’s.

It belonged to a tall, lanky guy with warm brown eyes and messy curls. He wore the same uniform but without polish—shirt half untucked, tie knotted wrong, like he couldn’t care less.

“Uh… sure,” I muttered.

He grinned, plopping down across from me. “Name’s Theo. You’re the scholarship guy, right?”

I bristled, but his tone wasn’t mocking—just curious.

“Yeah. Eliot,” I said.

“Cool. Welcome to Halewood. It’s a zoo, but if you know which predators to avoid, you’ll survive.”

I almost laughed. Almost.

And that’s when I felt it. That burn. That unmistakable weight of a storm-gray glare from across the hall.

Damien.

He hadn’t moved. He stood near the entrance, one hand shoved casually in his pocket, but his eyes—God, his eyes were locked on me and Theo.

The smirk was gone.

Instead, his expression was sharp, cold, dangerous.

I shifted uncomfortably under it, trying to focus on Theo’s easy chatter. But the truth was undeniable—Damien wasn’t just watching. He was seething.

---

Later that evening, as I left the library with Theo, the cool night air brushing against us, I finally relaxed. Theo was easy to be around. No games. No intensity. Just someone who treated me like a normal human instead of prey.

We parted ways at the dorms, and I turned down the path toward my building—

Only to find Damien waiting at the lamppost.

The shadows carved his face into something almost inhumanly beautiful, his blazer catching the silver glow of moonlight.

My steps faltered.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

He just stared.

That was worse than words, worse than any taunt. Because his silence burned hotter than fire, more possessive than any claim.

When I tried to walk past him, his hand shot out—fast, unyielding—fingers closing around my wrist.

I froze.

He leaned in, his voice low, smooth, lethal.

“Careful, Navarro. Strays like Theo aren’t safe to keep. You wouldn’t want me to get… jealous.”

My breath caught.

He let go. Smirked. Walked away like a shadow dissolving into the night.

And I stood there, heart pounding, skin tingling where he had touched me, realizing something terrifying.

He wasn’t chasing me.

He was circling me.

And sooner or later, the circle would close.