The ride back to campus was quieter than expected. The bus rumbled steadily along the highway, golden sunlight cutting through the windows in thick, sleepy stripes. Students were sprawled across their seats, exhausted from the beach trip, some half-dozing, others whispering about how they'd post their best pictures once they got decent Wi-Fi.
Nox sat at the back, as always, his hood pulled low and his black mask pressed snug against his face. He hadn't slept, not even at the beach. Instead, he'd kept watch—his usual nightly ritual of checking the perimeter, tracing suspicious signals, and physically disposing of threats. The intruder from the previous night had a broken arm, shattered femur, and no more burner phone. Nox had made sure of that.
He leaned his head back, eyelids heavy, but still alert. His eyes flicked to Leo and Ash, sitting across the aisle. Ash was animated, hands fluttering as he teased Leo about the way he nearly got swallowed by the tide. "You should've seen your face, Leo! Like the ocean personally offended you."
Leo gave a quiet laugh. "I tripped on a rock."
"No, no, you got tackled by Neptune himself."
"It was a rock, Ash."
"Sure, keep telling yourself that," Ash grinned.
Nox watched the exchange, fingers drumming soundlessly against his thigh. That softness in Leo's face, the slight squint of a smile, the lack of tension in his shoulders—it was rare. Strange. But Nox didn't interrupt. He never did. He just catalogued it.
Back at the dorms, everyone moved sluggishly, dragging suitcases and backpacks. Nox, without a word, vanished to his hidden arsenal beneath the school's sub-basement. His body still vibrated with the tension of nightwatch. He cleaned his knives, restocked the suppressors, and updated his systems. The campus cameras were too old and exposed. He patched them with silent backdoors to feed directly into his burner laptop.
Upstairs, Ash and Leo were chatting in the shared lounge.
"Honestly," Ash was saying, kicking off his shoes, "that beach sketch assignment was brutal. I still think your red sea drawing was crazy good. Like, emotionally insane."
Leo shrugged. "Did what I felt."
Ash hummed, lounging on the couch. "I drew literal umbrellas. I think I disappointed that professor so hard."
"You got the highest marks," Leo reminded him.
"Only because I pretend the world isn't on fire."
Leo gave a small laugh. "Not a bad approach."
Nox, seated on the stairwell above, out of sight, listened to the quiet chuckle Leo gave. He didn't understand it entirely, but he noted it. That softness. That laughter. How easily Ash coaxed it out.
That night, Leo's phone buzzed. He stepped outside, fingers curled tightly around the device.
"It's getting messy, Leo," his father's voice snapped across the line. "I got word about the beach. Two dead, one with broken limbs, military precision. That wasn't you."
Leo was silent.
"Who's helping you?"
Leo swallowed, eyes narrowing. Nox. He thought of the moments, the silences, the cigarette breaks alone behind the rocks. The way Nox never asked questions, but always knew. Always acted.
"No one," Leo said quietly. "I handled it."
His father didn't press. He rarely did.
When Leo came back inside, he caught Nox watching a muted news broadcast from the common TV, arms folded, mask still on. Their eyes met briefly, then passed.
Ash called out from the couch, "You know what our Arabic Art prof wants from us? We should start planning that big piece."
Leo rubbed his temple. "Something about identity and form."
"What if we made something... like chaos? Abstract but grounded. Like mixing personal artifacts with sculpted forms."
Nox, surprisingly, spoke. "Raw expression. Minimalism."
Ash blinked at him. "You are sharing?"
Leo gave a small smirk. "He does. Just doesn't waste words."
"I like that idea, though," Ash mused. "All three of us bring something different. Could work."
Later that night, when Ash was curled up on the beanbag with a textbook and Leo was scrolling through messages, Nox sat near the window, sipping bitter coffee. He hadn't slept. He wouldn't. The perimeter had to be checked again. But from where he sat, he could see them—Leo's relaxed posture, Ash's easy grin.
He logged into the hacked school cameras, fingers moving with the grace of routine. But his eyes kept flicking back.
Observation was survival.
But maybe, Nox thought, just maybe, this was something worth watching for a little longer.
End of Chapter 27