Chapter 5

Lora's pov 

Down in the alley, Adam reached back into the cab of the moving truck to grab one last thing off the dashboard.

It was a folder.

Even from the third floor, I could see the thick, glossy cardstock. I knew that exact shade of deep, aristocratic maroon. I knew the gold-foil crest stamped on the center of it. It was the Beverly High School new student orientation packet.

My stomach tumbled, a cold stone dropping straight into the abyss.

He wasn't just a neighbor. He was transferring to my school. He was going to walk the same way as mine, a carefully constructed kingdom carrying the stench of the harbor on his leather jacket.

As if he could hear my heart hammering against my ribs, Adam stopped. He didn't look at his own building. He didn't look at the truck.

He turned his head back and looked straight up.

Directly into my window.

He couldn't possibly see me through the glare of the morning sun and the narrow slit of the curtain, but his intense, slate-gray eyes were locked dead onto my position. A slow, cynical smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

He raised the maroon folder, tapping it once against his chest in a silent, terrifying salute.

I stumbled backward, the curtain falling shut as I crashed into my desk. My hands were shaking so violently I had to grip the edge of the wood to stay upright. The boy next door wasn't just bringing the harbor to Beverly High world.He was bringing it to me.

The sunlight hitting the grand stone steps of Beverly High felt completely cold.

When I got to school I stood near the fountain, adjusting the strap of my bag while my heart hammered against my ribs. Seeing Adam in the alley holding that maroon orientation folder had thrown me into a silent tailspin. If he walked into these halls today, if he said a single word about the harbor.

"There’s my girl."

Before I could turn, Kellan’s hands settled on my waist. His grip was warm, heavy, and firm, pulling me back against his chest with practiced ease. The scent of expensive citrus cologne and fresh laundry wrapped around me like a velvet trap.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the side of my neck. It was a gesture that looked completely affectionate to the underclassmen walking past us, but the fingers resting on my hip tightened just enough to hold me firmly in place.

"You didn't text me back last night," Kellan whispered into my hair. His voice was smooth, carrying that easy, golden-boy charm that made half the school sigh, but beneath it ran a sharp, possessive edge.

"I fell asleep early," I lied, my voice steady despite the knot forming in my throat. "I had a headache."

Kellan stepped around to face me, his bright blue eyes scanning my face with intense scrutiny. He reached out, his thumb catching my chin, tilting my head up slightly into the light.

"You look tired, Lora," he said softly, smoothing a strand of auburn hair behind my ear. It sounded like concern, but his eyes were calculating, checking every detail of my appearance to ensure his trophy wasn't tarnished. "My mom noticed you weren't at the country club dinner either. She was disappointed. You know how important it is that we show a united front, especially with the gala coming up."

"I know. I'm sorry, Kellan," I said, offering the practiced, helpless smile he liked. "I'll make it up to her."

"Good." He smiled, the golden charm snapping back into place as he slipped his fingers through mine, squeezing tightly. "Because people talk, babe. When you're distant, they start asking questions. And we don't want anyone asking questions."

The subtle threat hit its mark. Kellan liked control disguised as protection. He loved the pristine, perfect couple we were, and he hated anything he couldn't curate.

"Look at them," Kellan murmured, nodding toward a group of freshmen watching us from the lawn. "They want what we have. Don't ruin it."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the sudden, violent roar of a motorcycle engine tore through the quiet courtyard.

The low rumble vibrated through the stone beneath our shoes. Students turned, murmuring as a matte-black bike rolled slowly onto the paved walkway leading to the main entrance.

The rider cut the engine, kicking down the kickstand. He pulled off his helmet, shaking out messy dark espresso hair.

Adam.

He swung his leg off the bike, slinging a worn leather jacket over his shoulder. He didn't look at the grand building, nor the staring students. But as he started up the steps, his slate-gray eyes swept over the crowd and locked directly onto mine.

Kellan’s grip on my hand instantly turned crushing. "Who the hell is that?"

Adam stopped three steps down, his eyes shifting slowly from my face down to our joined hands, and then up to Kellan. A faint, razor-sharp smirk touched his lips, and he casually reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, familiar braided bracelet and letting it

dangle right in front of Kellan’s eyes.