Gloria
"Your father was Mikhail Valevsky's right hand.""We are being hunted.""Why don't you ask your mother?"
The voices replayed in my head like a cracked record, echoing over and over until I thought they might drive me mad. My mother's voice. Mr. Valevsky's name. A family secret I hadn't asked for but now couldn't shake.
London already felt like a roller coaster I hadn't agreed to ride. I was trapped in the seat, pulled higher and higher with no way to get off, waiting for the inevitable drop.
And then there was him. Ilian.The professor with the same last name as Mikhail Valevsky. The one who looked at me as if he'd known me forever.
The clatter of spoons against porcelain dragged me back to the present. The breakfast table was alive with chatter. Nico talking about something, my mother's laugh, my father's steady baritone. The curtains swayed with the morning breeze, sunlight scattering over the polished wood.
I sat there, staring down at my plate, absently nudging scrambled eggs with my fork while my mind spun in endless circles.
Valevsky. Ilian Valevsky.The names pressed against each other like magnets. Too impossible.
"Gloria."
Nico's voice cut through sharply this time. I blinked up to find all eyes on me. Regular eyes turned into concern as they stared at me.
"Where are you lost?" Nico asked, his expression softening into concern.
I forced a chuckle, brittle as glass. "Nothing. Just… I have a test today." Hopefully, they won't stretch this further.
My father's brow furrowed, a look I knew too well. He didn't press, but his silence said enough.
So I dropped my gaze again, pretending to eat while my heart beat too loudly in my chest.
It was useless to say anything. They didn't know Mom had told me everything. That I was aware of, every one of our dangers. And even if they did… what good would it do?
I left the house later, bag slung over my shoulder, the crisp autumn air nipping at my cheeks. The breeze felt foreign, but this time, it felt like they were whispering secrets of my name. Something so bold and dangerous that it felt as if I shouldn't go to school.
Not that I did not want to. No matter how depressed I felt, it felt like a mission to unravel the secrets my mother did not tell me. Besides, life goes on.
Halfway down the street, I cursed under my breath. My notebook. The one with the folded corner and the note I always kept tucked inside. I was so absent-minded today that I forgot about it.
I turned back, slipping in through the side door as quietly as I could.
That's when I heard my family.
"…Did you know Ilian is in that school? This is so dangrous for Gloria."
I froze, the sound of my mother's voice slicing through me.
Dangerous. For me.
I leaned against the wall, breath caught in my throat, as my father's lower, steadier voice answered. "I know. The more distance I aspire from the Valevskys, the closer they get."
Their words blurred, the details lost to the pounding in my ears, but the message was clear enough.
Ilian Valevsky was a threat. Or maybe he was the key? The key to knowing everything more my family hid from me.
Either way, I couldn't keep wondering. I had to know.
***
The school day felt suffocating. Every tick of the clock pressed against my skin, every minute a wasted delay. I skimmed through the classes absent-mindedly. Except for the scene of the first day and gunshots replaying in my head.
Thankfully, the kids had a short attention span and forgot about my "fainting debut" soon after. Not to mention, I completely forgot what happened before I fainted.
Nina informed me that Mr. Valevsky hadn't come in and frustration pricked hot under my ribs. Right when I wished to confront him, he was gone from my sight.
Classes ended as Nina found me at the locker. She leaned against mine and cocked her eyebrows at me. "Did you know Ms. Briar is also absent today?"
I looked at her. "So?"
She gave me a mischievous smile and leaned in closer. "The kids think Mr. Valevsky and Ms. Briar are dating."
I bit my lips. The news should not affect a hair on my body, but it did. I felt my veins getting hotter as I remembered how he had hugged me to hide from the glass shards on my first day.
I shook away the thoughts.
"Do you want to bunk?" I asked, lowering my voice. We still had one more class to go.
Her eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
She grinned. "Finally. You're speaking my language."
***
We were halfway down the street, excitement bubbling in Nina's laugh. I was walking towards the park he was in yesterday, hoping I'd find him there.
I was unsure of what I was going to ask him, but I knew I had to uncover something at least to quench my thirst.
That's when the sound of measured footsteps slowed us.
Him. I smelled the smell of musk as my body alerted me. Goosebumps rising in my skin.
He appeared from around the corner. There was a coat draped over one arm, his dark eyes cutting through me like steel warmed by flame. He barely spared Nina a glance.
"You can go," he said to her, voice flat but not unkind.
She hesitated, then glanced at me, wide-eyed. "Uh… good luck?" she whispered before scurrying off.
Which left me alone with him. Exactly what I'd wanted. Exactly what I wasn't ready for.
His gaze lingered on me, quite unreadable. "Thirsty?"
I blinked. "What?"
His mouth quirked, almost imperceptibly. "Do you want a drink?"
***
We ended up on a worn wooden bench in the park, leaves skittering across the path with every gust of wind.
He held a steaming can of coffee between his palms, the faint scent of roasted beans curling into the air. I clutched a carton of chocolate milk like it was the most precious thing in the world, the sweetness coating my tongue, grounding me.
I kept sneaking glances at him, trying to summon the courage, trying to find the right words. But when I finally turned—ready—he was already watching me.
And not the way he was supposed to.
He stared at me as if devotion dripped from his gaze like honey, rich and unrelenting. My breath caught, my face heated, and I should look away before my thoughts betrayed me.
But I didn't.
He was too much. Too handsome in a way that wasn't fair. High cheekbones catching the pale sun, the sharp line of his jaw softened only by the faint shadow of stubble. His eyes were a storm—gray and impossible to pin down. His mouth carried that perpetual ghost of a smirk, as if he was always two steps ahead.
The poet in me wanted to write him down.The girl in me wanted to run.
I stared at my milk instead.
"Ask what you want to ask," he said finally. His voice was low, certain.
My head snapped up. "How—how did you know I wanted to ask something?"
One corner of his mouth curved. "You're not as difficult to read as you think."
Heat climbed up my neck. But I couldn't back down now.
"Do you… do you know Mikhail Valevsky?" I asked, my voice almost too soft.
For the first time, his composure cracked. A flicker of stiffness tightened his shoulders. He took a slow sip of his coffee before answering.
"Why do you want to know that?"
I hesitated, then told him. Briefly. About my father. About what my mother had told me.
Something sparked in his eyes then. No surprise, but rather recognition.
The wind rose suddenly, fierce enough to rattle the branches above us. My hair stormedin a mess as I put the milk down to fix my skirt.
Bark from the tree rained down, sharp fragments scattering across the bench.
Ilian's hand shot out, pulling me against him in one smooth, instinctive motion. His palm pressed against my waist, his fingers curving over me like they belonged there.
The world shrank to the space between us, to the heat of his body, to the sharp scent of coffee mingling with something darker. Something purely his.
A piece of bark scraped my cheek. I winced, feeling the faint sting of blood.
Before I could react, he lifted his hand, brushing the wound with startling gentleness, his thumb lingering against my skin. I hissed.
I couldn't look away. I couldn't breathe. He was my teacher.
His breath settled on my lips as my entire body heated up. His eyes searched something in mine and looked at me as if he was fighting an urge of his. A strand of his hair dangled on my forehead.
And yet—
The weight of it snapped me back. I pushed his chest, heart hammering as I stood up.
"Gloria—"
But I was already running, the echo of his touch burning against my skin.