CHAPTER 9

The morning air was crisp, but it did little to ease the tension coiling in my chest. My car—Lucente—glided to a stop beside Aaron’s, its black frame gleaming under the early sun. He stepped out first, tall, confident, but even from here, I could see the subtle stiffness in his shoulders, the way his eyes flicked toward the campus entrance.

I followed, my own presence calm, deliberate. The students and staff around us froze in subtle awe. Some stared, fear in their eyes. Others admired, whispers trailing behind them. A few simply dared to glance, curiosity brimming at the sight of two men who carried power like armor.

We moved through the campus in tandem, silent except for the sound of shoes against pavement. The world didn’t matter—nothing did—except the building ahead, and the girl who had already disrupted both of our routines without even speaking to me.

Inside the lecture hall, I let my eyes sweep across the room. Most of the students were settling into their seats, murmurs drifting in the air. Aaron’s gaze was fixed on her. My Vera. The way his brow knit, the way his body tensed, it betrayed him. He was worried. Curious. Something unspoken lingered there, and it drew my attention in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

She walked in like she belonged everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Eyes forward, posture straight. Yet, my sharp senses didn’t miss the subtle wince when she bent down to pick up her marker. Just a flicker, a momentary twitch, barely noticeable—but enough.

I studied Aaron, the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands flexed at his sides. He’s always protective, always alert. But today, he’s uneasy. Distracted. And I know why. I can feel it in the air between us, thick and heavy.

I leaned back against the doorframe, voice low, almost dangerous. “Follow me.”

Aaron’s head snapped up, confusion flickering across his face. “Sir?”

“I said follow me,” I repeated, sharper, a quiet command that left no room for negotiation. He didn’t hesitate. He never does. He fell in step behind me as I left the room, the murmurs of the students fading behind us, the heavy hum of my patience building in the silence between the two of us.

We walked down the hall in near silence, the kind that carries unspoken weight. Finally, I stopped. My gaze locked on him. Aaron, my best friend, my second-in-command, someone who knows me better than anyone—yet he’s hiding. And I’ve had enough.

“Enough,” I said, voice calm, Italian words slipping into the edges. Basta, Aaron. Non mentirmi più. Stop, Aaron. Don’t lie to me anymore.

He hesitated, swallowing hard. His eyes flicked away, then back. I saw the guilt, the struggle, the need to protect me and yet shield someone else at the same time.

“I know something is off,” I continued, stepping closer. “I’ve felt it. Felt it the second she walked into that hall. You’ve been hiding it. Hiding… her. And now, I want the truth.”

Aaron ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. His usual calm cracked just enough for me to see it. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to what?” I asked, cutting him off, voice calm but lethal. “Protect me? Protect her? Or protect your own peace of mind while I remain in the dark?”

He flinched, and I let the silence stretch. I could see his heart racing, his pride tangled with loyalty. But he couldn’t hide from me. He never could.

“I wanted to tell you, I did—but…”

“But you didn’t,” I finished for him. “Because you’re Aaron. My best friend. My conscience when I don’t want one. And now? I’ve had enough. Tell me everything you know, now.”

He swallowed again, eyes flicking toward the classroom before back to me. “She… she’s hiding something, Kael. Something serious. Something… dangerous. I don’t know everything. But it’s enough for me to worry. Enough for her to be alone like that.”

I stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the weight of my presence. “You will tell me. Everything. And you will tell me soon, or I will find out myself. Capisci, Aaron? Do you understand me?”

He nodded, jaw tight, hands clenching. Fear, loyalty, and concern flickered across his face. The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was charged, brimming with the truth we both feared, the storm we were only just beginning to confront.