Ashes curled herself around Beth's shoulder like she belonged there.
And honestly, maybe she did.
Beth scratched the soft spot behind the cat's ear as she walked, her boots crunching over scattered leaves from the old oak trees that lined the sidewalk between dorms. The early afternoon sun filtered through, warm but not overbearing. It almost felt… normal. A girl walking a cat back to her boyfriend's room.
Except it wasn't normal.
Not even close.
Brandon's dorm came into view, the same boring beige-brick building as hers, just across the green. She didn't knock. Just opened the door with the confident grace of someone who had long since decided that knocking was for people who didn't already have their claws in.
Ashes leapt from her shoulder the moment they stepped inside, trotting back to her favorite spot by the window like the little queen she was.
Brandon was seated at his desk, hoodie sleeves rolled up, his focus half on a textbook and half on whatever thoughts haunted that sharp, cold mind of his. He turned when she entered but didn't say anything at first.
Beth dropped her bag onto his bed and smirked.
"She likes me more than she likes you," she said, nodding toward the cat, who was already sprawled on the sunlit windowsill.
"She likes food," Brandon replied dryly.
Beth grinned. "So do I."
Brandon gave her a look—half amused, half wary. That was their dynamic now. Teasing, circling, pushing. Never too far. Not yet.
Beth flopped onto his bed like she owned it.
She glanced at the clock on his desk.
"We should head to the meeting."
"You mean the 'mandatory bonding session' where everyone pretends they're not still traumatized?" he asked.
She chuckled. "Exactly."
He stood, grabbing his coat. But before he could move toward the door, she stood too, blocking his path with a hand against his chest.
"There's something else," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Okay."
"I think we should keep pretending to be together," she said plainly.
He blinked. "Why?"
Beth shrugged, arms crossing. "Because I already told the Deadfast Club we were dating, and it'd be weird if we suddenly acted like strangers again. People talk. Liv's already nosy, and Amir can't keep his mouth shut."
"You think they'll notice if we're just… not glued to each other?"
"Oh, they'll notice," she said with certainty.
"You saw how Liv looked at us the other day. If we act like it was a lie, they'll dig. I'm not in the mood to be interrogated by Kym and her FBI-tier questions."
Brandon exhaled slowly. "So we fake-date."
She gave a mock bow. "For the sake of the mission, soldier."
He looked at her for a long second. Not suspicious. Just… searching.
Beth held his gaze. Cool. Calm. Untouchable.
But underneath it all, something unfamiliar squirmed.
She hadn't told him the real reason.
Not all of it, anyway.
Because somewhere in the back of her mind, a question had begun to nest and fester:
What if I'd met him first?
Before Jamal.
Before masks.
Before blood.
What if Brandon had been the one standing across from her in that alley during her first kill, offering his gloved hand instead of Jamal's smirking one?
Would she still be who she is now?
Would she have ended up like him—brutal but principled, damaged but disciplined?
Beth swallowed the thought like a bitter pill and stepped aside, letting him pass.
The walk to the old AV room felt surreal.
Beth walked beside Brandon, close but not clingy. Enough to keep up the act.
The fall air bit against her arms, but she didn't shiver. She hated showing weakness.
Brandon glanced at her once, his eyes flicking to her bruised cheek, still faintly green and yellow from the frat boys. He didn't say anything about it.
He hadn't said anything about a lot of things lately.
They were both pretending in different ways now.
The closer they got to the meeting room, the more Beth noticed her posture shift. Back straighter. Eyes sharper. A faint smirk tugging at her lips as she slid into character like an old leather jacket.
The goth girl.
The scary one.
The killer.
Just one with a boyfriend now.
Inside, the Deadfast Club was already gathering.
Liv was leaning against a desk, arms crossed like always, giving Brandon a once-over. Probably wondering if he still had bruised knuckles.
Kym was flipping through a psychology textbook, looking up just in time to clock them walking in together.
Deion—still pretending to be Marcus—nodded.
Manny waved. Amir made finger guns.
Beth walked in like she owned the place and plopped into the seat beside Brandon, her hand casually resting on his leg. She didn't look at him. Didn't have to.
Liv raised a brow.
"So you two are, like… actually a thing now?"
Beth gave her a wide, sugar-sweet smile. "Told you already, didn't I?"
"Yeah, but I thought that was you messing with us."
Beth tilted her head. "Maybe I was. Or maybe I'm just full of surprises."
The others laughed. Except Brandon, who just looked like he was trying not to sigh.
He played his part, though. Let her lean against him. Didn't pull away.
Beth didn't miss the glances. Or the quiet whisper Amir tried to hide.
She didn't care.
Let them talk.
Let them think what they wanted.
This was safer. This was smarter.
And maybe, just maybe… it wasn't so bad, pretending to be something close to normal.
She glanced sideways at Brandon, who hadn't said a word since they sat down.
He didn't smile.
But he didn't move away, either.
And for now… that was enough.