Elise walked briskly toward her morning class, clutching her books close to her chest. Patricia trailed beside her, chattering away about homework and teachers, when suddenly a group of girls blocked their path.
The same ones who had been glaring yesterday.
Their leader, tall with sharp eyes, stepped forward and crossed her arms.
"Stay away from Davon," she hissed. "You think you're special because he talks to you? Don't get comfortable."
Elise froze, confusion flashing across her face. "I—I'm not interested in him," she said quickly. "It's just a class project. That's all."
The girls sneered, unimpressed. "Liar. We've seen the way he looks at you. If you know what's good for you, you'll back off."
Before Elise could reply, one of them raised her hand, power shimmering faintly around her palm—an attack spell. Patricia gasped, tugging Elise back.
But then—
In a blur of motion, Davon appeared out of nowhere, his presence overwhelming. It was as if he had teleported, standing between Elise and the oncoming strike. His crimson eyes burned with quiet fury as he caught the girl's wrist mid-air.
The corridor fell silent.
The attacker trembled, her magic fizzling away under his grip. Davon's voice was low, cold, and laced with authority:
"Touch her, and you'll regret it."
The girls shrank back instantly, their bravado crumbling. They muttered shaky apologies before scattering down the hall.
Patricia's eyes widened in shock. She had noticed. His speed. His presence. Something wasn't normal about Davon.
Elise's heart pounded in her chest, still shaken. But before she could speak, Davon grabbed her wrist—not rough, but firm.
"Come on," he said sharply.
She stumbled after him, breathless. "Wait—I—"
"Class," he cut her off without looking back. His tone made it clear she had no choice.
And so Elise followed, her mind racing. Not just about the girls, but about the way Davon had appeared… as if from thin air.