*Roanne’s POV*The door to my cramped dorm room swung open, its edges scraping against the pile of textbooks that served as makeshift doorstops. Michael stood in the threshold, his tall frame almost filling the space, his eyes scanning the chaos of my life boxed up in cardboard and strewn across the floor."Quite the collection," he said, a half-smile playing on his lips as he stepped over a stack of philosophy texts."Sorry, it's a mess," I muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze."Nothing we can't handle." Confidence laced his every word, his every move.Lizzie burst in moments later, vibrant and determined, her presence a stark contrast to the controlled calm that Michael exuded. "Okay, team, let's make this quick and painless.""Michael's bringing help for the heavy lifting," I added, glancing at him."Good. Roanne, you and I will tackle your wardrobe jungle." Lizzie grinned, pulling open a drawer and grimacing

*Roanne’s POV*The room was thick with the scent of cardboard and dust, a tangible testament to the chaos of moving. I stood back, hands on hips, surveying the landscape of boxes that now littered the apartment. With each box I had placed, it felt as if I were piecing together a puzzle of my future, one that was still missing crucial parts.It was a blank canvas waiting to be painted with the colors of a new chapter. The space was unfamiliar, but the promise of possibility lingered in the air.The boxes, labeled with my scrawled handwriting, stood like eager companions ready to unveil the treasures within. With each box opened, a piece of my past found a new place in this uncharted territory.I started with the essentials I bought on the way here, setting up the kitchen with the precision of someone who had mastered the art of dorm room microwave meals. Pots and pans clinked together as I arranged them in the cabinets. The familiar scent of coffee grounds filled the air as I unpa

*Aaron’s POV*I sat in my car across the street from the dimly lit venue. It was the kind of place where secrets were traded like currency, and tonight, I was investing heavily. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the familiar itch of impatience."Are we clear on what you're doing?" I asked the figure lounging in the passenger seat beside me. The man was nondescript, his face forgettable—a perfect shadow to slip through the crowd unnoticed."Crystal," he replied, his voice low and even. "Follow the girl, get you the information. You'll know who she's with, where she goes.""Especially tonight," I growled, the tightness in my chest constricting further at the thought of her with him—Michael."Jealous?" He smirked, and I shot him a look that could freeze hell over."Get it done," I snapped, tossing him a wad of cash. He caught it deftly and stepped out of the vehicle without another word.Left alone, I leaned back against the leather seat, my mind racing with images of Roanne—

*Aaron’s POV*The musty scent of old books and the hushed whispers of conspiracy swirled around me in the club’s meeting room by design. I perched on the edge of a leather chair, its surface cracked with age, watching the members of the Revenge Club skulk between the towering shelves. Violet made them hunters in their own right, seeking out the weaknesses of their prey. The library, once a sanctuary of knowledge, now served as a war room.I had to admire her skilled manipulation, she was using them for her own purposes, without stopping to help them as well.I watched as one of the senior members, Nina, with her eyes hidden beneath a veil of raven hair, was hunched over a small vial, her fingers deft and sure. She'd always been reclusive from what Blake had told me before I entered, more at ease among beakers and chemicals than people. But here, she was a sorceress brewing something dangerous. It was her latest concoction that had everyone's attention - including mine."Subtle,"

*Roanne’s POV*I was perched on the edge of the plush velvet sofa, legs crossed, fingers unconsciously tracing the tender skin around my wrist. The bruise felt like a burn every time I pressed it, a stark reminder of Damien's possessive grip. My heart still hammered with an undercurrent of fear, but in Michael's presence, I tried to show I was calm.Michael paced the room, his face etched with concern, the lines in his forehead deepening as Jonathan recounted the day's events. His voice, usually so composed and calm, now carried an edge of fury, "He got that close to you?" he questioned, glancing at me, his eyes searching for answers."Damien's unpredictable," Jonathan said, standing rigid, his posture speaking volumes of his readiness to defend. "It might be wise to tighten security around Roanne.""Follow her more closely?" Michael's tone was sharp, slicing through the tension hanging in the air."Exactly." Jonathan nodded, never once breaking eye contact with Michael.I shif