Chapter Three

Kamara’s POV

The entire day flew by into nothingness. I barely remembered what I’d eaten, what the lecturers said, or who sat next to me. It was all just noise.

When I walked out through the university gates, I wasn’t surprised to see Jace parked across the street like some undercover stalker.

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “You have to be kidding me.”

Wearing his signature black suit. “Good afternoon Miss Mann.”

“I don’t need a chauffeur. Or a babysitter,” I snapped.

He opened the passenger door anyway. “Get in, please.”

I got in. Not because he asked. Because there was no point fighting anymore. I hated the formalities so much.

The next day passed the same way. Flat and Numb and even more Pointless. Except this time, Valerie had enrolled. Apparently my father’s arrangements had magically fast-tracked her into a politics major. We were apart most of the day, she sat through legal debates and international diplomacy, while I slipped into a sterile lecture room with easels and charcoal dust.

We shared one class though. Art history. And that’s where I realized Brian had been sitting two rows behind me the entire time yesterday. I hadn’t even noticed.

I was too busy spiraling in my own mind to care.

By lunch break, Valerie had dragged me outside, insisting we eat under the olive trees near the campus café.

That’s when Brian appeared again. Approaching casually.

“Well,” he said, glancing at me. “We meet again.”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “You two know each other?”

“An unfortunate accident,” Brian replied smoothly.

I gave her a bored look. “He crashed into me and spilled coffee everywhere.”

Brian offered a faint smile. “That’s why I’m here. Thought I’d make it up to you.”

He held out a sleek black card. Thick paper, silver embossed. Private Invite — After-Spring Mixer | Hillcrest Courtyard | 8PM.

“There’s an after-spring mixer tonight. Campus tradition,” he added. “Bonfire, food, bad decisions. I figured you might want to come.”

“I thought you said you were new here?” I asked and he gave a shy smile.

“Not exactly. So you coming?”

I was already shaking my head. “Hard pass—”

Valerie snatched the card mid-air. “We’ll be there.”

I turned toward her. “Excuse me?”

She ignored me completely, flipping the card over like it had a secret message on the back. “The Hillcrest Courtyard. I’ve heard about this. Isn’t that where the bonfire pit is surrounded by all those old statues?”

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “You’ve done your research.”

She winked. “I always do.”

Brian looked at me again. “See you around then, brown eyes.”

My jaw dropped as he walked away. “What the heck was that, Valerie? How do you even know that place? You just got here.”

She looped her arm through mine, unbothered. “What can I say? I did my research.”

“I can’t go, Val. I still need to process everything that’s happening.”

She gave my arm a little squeeze. “That’s exactly why I agreed to it. You need this. You’ve been through so much, Kam. Too much. Just go. Get your head out of all that noise.”

I didn’t answer. My gaze was already drifting past the trees, past the buildings, to where I knew Jace was probably parked. My father wouldn’t agree to that.

And suddenly I felt the urge to agree just because of exactly that.

Later that afternoon, I settled into the leather seats as Jace drove us home. One hand on the wheel. The other near the gearstick. A Perfect posture and stoic face as always.

A part of me wondered what he even did during the day. Did he just sit there, watch cameras, track my movement? Text my father about everything I said, ate, wore?

I stared out the window as we pulled into traffic. But suddenly, a loud honk cut through my thoughts.

A car zoomed across the opposite lane, far too close.

“Shit! Shit!” Jace muttered, jerking the wheel. His arm shot forward as he shifted gear quickly.

The car jolted.

“What the hell was that?” I barked, grabbing the side of the door. “Jesus! Did my father also order you to kill me?”

His jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see that car.”

When we reached the apartment, I unbuckled quickly, ready to step out. His voice stopped me.

“I’ll be stepping out to take care of something urgent in the quarter.”

I stepped out, slamming the door behind me.

“Knock yourself out. And don’t even bother trying to pick me up ever again.”

Later that evening, back at the house my father had “secured” for me, I sat on my bed, staring at the invite card.

I wondered how fast the report would reach my father when Jace found out I was gone..

know.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the card.

What would it matter if I went?

My father wanted me guarded. Sheltered. Obedient.

What if I wasn’t?

What if I didn’t care what he wanted?

I wasn’t some porcelain daughter to be tucked away while men in suits made quiet decisions about my life.

And needed something that reminded me I was still alive.

I grabbed my phone.

Kamara: What time are you leaving for this thing?

Valerie: 7:30. Wear something that says don’t talk to me unless you’re rich or dying.

I cracked a smile.

Two hours later, Valerie and I stood inside a frat house that reeked of vodka, weed. I wore a simple pink dress that hung just a little below my knee and Valerie looked like a runway model.

The music pulsed through the floor, some remix of an early 2000s hit with a bassline that could knock out your ribs. Lights flashed and every other person seemed to be holding a red cup like it was a birthright.

Valerie leaned closer suddenly, her eyes locked on someone across the room. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “That’s Veronica Matt.”

“Who?” I asked, but she was already slipping into the crowd, moving like a heat-seeking missile.

“Have fun, Kam,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll find you in a bit!”

I stood there for a beat, my hands shoved in the pockets of my leather skirt. I hated parties. Hated the noise. Hated the sticky heat of too many bodies in too little space.

But Valerie was right. I needed this. I needed something to pull me out of my own head.

I reached the drink table.

A guy in a varsity jacket grinned and handed me a cup. “Orange juice,” he said. “Safe, I swear.”

“Thanks,” I said with a small smile, taking a sip.

I scanned the crowd, looking for Brian half-hoping I would find him. The citrus cooled my mouth, grounding me for just a second.

I had never been to a college party before, father would never allow me.

Thirty minutes later, I was on my fifth cup of orange juice—if it was even orange juice. Still no Valerie. Still no Brian. My shoulders ached from standing too long, and my legs were already screaming at me for wearing heels.

I was tired. Emotionally exhausted. The lights had started to blur together, and the bass wasn’t just shaking the floor anymore—it was thumping behind my eyes.

I suddenly felt dizzy.

Rising in waves from my stomach to the back of my throat. My skin felt hot and clammy all at once. The room tilted for a split second, and I blinked hard.

What the hell?

A group of people laughed behind me, but the sound came from underwater. My hand reached for the table, trying to steady myself.

Then I felt someone behind me. It dropped to my waist like it belonged there, fingers curling slightly as if they had every right to grip me.

I tried to turn. But I couldn’t.

My body was burning from the inside out, Whoever was behind me leaned in close. I could feel breath on my neck, the heat of someone standing far too close, whispering words I couldn’t catch.

But something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.