The next morning on campus felt strangely louder than usual. Anabeth walked through the hallway with her headphones in, but the buzzing whispers still reached her. Something had shifted. She felt it in the air, the same way the wind announces a storm before the clouds gather.
Everywhere she went, eyes followed her.
Not because of her beauty—not today.
Because of him.
The man she ran into the previous night.
The one with the cold gaze that lingered in her mind long after she'd escaped back to her room.
The one who moved like danger wrapped in silk.
And apparently, he had been spotted on campus again.
A mafia?
Here?
It sounded ridiculous… except nothing about his presence felt normal. The way he looked at her—like he already knew her name, her history, her weaknesses—made her shiver as she walked.
She tried to forget him.
She tried to focus on class.
But her thoughts kept slipping back to that moment in the dim hallway where he'd stood inches away from her, whispering:
"Be careful who you let near you."
She didn't know what that meant. She didn't know who he was warning her about.
But she knew this: she hated when people tried to control her, or her life, or her decisions. Her childhood had already been shaped by people who valued their own impulses over her safety. She was done letting others dictate who she should be.
So when she saw him again… she did not turn away.
He stood alone under the old jacaranda tree behind the library, the violet petals falling around his black coat like a surreal painting. His presence was unmistakable—sharp, still, and quiet like a predator who didn't need to roar to be feared.
This time, she didn't run.
She approached him step by step until she stood close enough to see the faint scar near his jaw. His eyes flicked toward her, dark and unreadable. She swallowed, but she didn't break her stance.
"You're following me," she said.
He raised a brow. "If I were following you, you wouldn't notice."
"Not helping," she muttered.
He almost smiled. Almost.
But his expression grew serious again. "I told you to be careful."
"And I asked you why," she shot back.
For a long moment, he didn't speak. He just watched her with that quiet intensity that simultaneously infuriated her and made her pulse rise.
Finally, he said, "Because someone on this campus is looking for you. Someone dangerous enough that even I took notice."
Her breath hitched. "Who would be looking for me?"
He shook his head slowly. "Not here. Not where anyone can hear."
Her heart pounded. "Then tell me your name first."
He hesitated, then answered in a low voice:
"My name is Rafael."
Rafael.
The name suited him—unexpectedly elegant, quietly powerful.
"Why would someone be after me?" she insisted. "I'm just a normal student."
Rafael studied her for a moment, and something in his expression softened—subtle, but unmistakable.
"No," he said quietly.
"You're not."
Before she could question him further, a sharp crack echoed across the courtyard—something between a snap and a thud. Rafael instantly stepped forward, pulling her behind him as if he'd done it a thousand times.
"What was that—?" she gasped.
He didn't answer.
He was scanning the rooftops, the windows, the shadows.
And suddenly, everything felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Too still.
Too watchful.
Rafael leaned close enough that she felt his breath near her ear, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You asked why you should trust me."
She stilled.
"Because someone just tried to get your attention from a distance."
He looked down at her, eyes burning with something fierce and protective.
"And next time, they won't be subtle."
Anabeth's heart thundered against her ribs. Somehow she knew—her life had shifted the moment she met Rafael. And now nothing would ever go back to normal.
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