“I can.” She pressed the phone harder to her ear, trying to steady herself. “I just… I needed to hear your voice. To remind myself I’m not completely alone in this.” “You’re never alone, Ellie,” Loretta said firmly. “Even if I can’t be there in person, you have me. Always. Except of course in a worst case scenario, I die." she could hear the laughter in her voice. A small smile tugged at Eliana’s lips, though her heart still raced. “Thank you.” They spoke for a few more minutes, Loretta doing her best to distract her with talk of classes, mutual friends, and even a ridiculous story about her professor tripping over his own violin case. By the time Eliana hung up, she felt lighter—though the letters still sat like shadows on her desk. --- The day before the Gala, the conservatory pulsed with nervous energy. The halls were filled with snippets of melodies, frantic rehearsals, and students clutching sheet music as if their lives depended on it. Whispers followed Eliana whereve
The following weeks blurred into an intense rhythm of practice, classes, and restless nights. Eliana threw herself into the music, each session building her piece for the competition. But the threat lingered. Sometimes she felt eyes on her as she walked the halls. Sometimes she thought she heard footsteps behind her when she left late at night. And then there was Lucian. He appeared often, sometimes in class, sometimes lingering in the practice wing, always with that unreadable smile. Slowly, their conversations grew longer, slipping from cautious exchanges into something almost resembling friendship. Yet there was always a distance in him, a secrecy that tugged at her curiosity. She didn't know what she was feeling. One one hand was Liam with his ever gentle smile and voice and Lucian with his charming face. "well, Ellie better the devil you know than the friend you don't know." she said to herself after a date with Liam. He had come to pick her up after school one day. H
Eliana’s hand trembled as she held the note. The paper was heavy, almost luxurious, the kind of stationery one wouldn’t expect for something so sinister. The words, however, cut sharper than any blade. Stay out of the Gala. Or you’ll regret it. Her first instinct was disbelief. She stared at the note, reading it over and over, half-hoping the words would change, or dissolve into nothing more than a prank. But they didn’t. They stared back at her, bold and final. She was getting a lot of nasty notes these days. Was this all because of her decisions lately? was cutting off from Ivy and Ethan the right thing to do. She hadn't even been able to talk to Ivy these past few weeks. she didn't know what she was up to or what the both of them were planning. She swallowed hard, shoving the letter back into the envelope before anyone else could see it. Who would even care enough to send her such a threat? She was nobody here—just a scholarship student who happened to step into the comp
Eliana looked up to find a man leaning against the doorframe. He was about her age, tall, with dark hair that curled at the ends and a violin case slung over one shoulder. His hazel eyes were sharp, almost assessing. “You’re the scholarship student,” he said, not bothering to hide the hint of skepticism in his tone. “And you are?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral. “Leonard Cruz. First chair violinist. And the person everyone’s betting will win the Spring Gala competition.” His smile was slow, edged with arrogance. “That is… unless you think you can take the spot.” Eliana raised an eyebrow. “I’m not here for anyone’s spotlight.” She didn't care about any of that. She just wanted to pursue her dream. “Good,” he said lightly. “Because you won’t get it without a fight.” And with that, he left as abruptly as he’d appeared, the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall. Her fingers hovered over the keys, the challenge ringing in her ears. She hadn’t come here intending to compe
The shadow moved first. A tall shape peeled itself from the black between the containers, its steps measured, deliberate. Not the same man from the pier — this one was broader, dressed in a long coat that seemed to drink in the faint light from the dock lamps. Eliana’s grip tightened on the box, the metal edges biting into her palms. She could feel her pulse in her throat. “Hand it over,” the man said. His voice was deep, not masked, but there was an unsettling calm to it — the kind of voice that didn’t need to raise itself to make a threat land. Liam shifted subtly, his body angling between her and the stranger. “You’ve got the wrong people,” he said. The man’s gaze slid over to Eliana, unblinking. “I don’t make mistakes.” Her thoughts skittered back to the photographs — her mother’s face, her grandfather’s impossible presence. The words on the letter that hinted at a death that “never should have happened.” Somehow, this man knew. “Who sent you?” she asked before she c
The footsteps were fast. Too fast. Eliana’s heart stuttered, but her legs reacted before her brain could catch up. She bolted after Liam, boots pounding against the damp wood. The pier seemed longer than she remembered, each plank groaning under their weight. “Don’t look back,” Liam threw over his shoulder. Of course, she looked back. It was as if his words had triggered her fear reactor. A figure had emerged from the shadows — tall, faceless in the gloom, moving with the silent precision of a predator. The glint of metal caught the pier lights, and her stomach lurched. Gun. She turned and ran with all her might. They veered sharply down a narrow gangway between two moored boats. The smell of diesel and brine closed in, mingling with her own ragged breath. Liam stopped abruptly, pressing her against the hull of a rusted trawler. “Give me the letter,” he whispered. “What—now? Are you insane?” she hissed. “If they get it, we’re both dead.” His eyes were hard, urge