Chapter Thirty-Four — What I Do When No One Is Watching
Alisha POV
The first thing I noticed was the quiet.
Not the peaceful kind—the unnatural kind. The kind that settles when people should be around but aren't.
It was late afternoon, the sun slanting low enough to stretch shadows across the path leading behind the humanities building. I'd taken the long way back on purpose. Not because I was careless.
Because I wanted to know.
Training doesn't just teach you how to fight.
It teaches you how to listen—to space, to silence, to the way your instincts hum before your thoughts catch up.
And something was humming now.
I slowed my steps without stopping. Adjusted my bag on my shoulder. Let my breathing stay even.
Normal girl. Normal walk.
My reflection flashed briefly in a window as I passed—hair tied back, posture relaxed, eyes forward. Anyone watching would see nothing worth remembering.
That was the point.
The sound came then.
Footsteps.
One set. Too measured. Too far behind to be accidental.
I turned the corner.
So did they.
My pulse didn't spike. That surprised me. A month ago, my chest would've tightened, my thoughts scattering like birds.
Now?
Now there was space inside me.
I reached the narrow walkway between buildings—the one Alex had pointed out on our first week back.
Avoid unless necessary, he'd said.
If necessary, don't hesitate.
I stepped into it.
The footsteps followed.
I stopped.
"So," I said calmly, turning around, "you're either very bad at this or very confident."
The man froze.
He wasn't a student. That much was obvious now—too old, too deliberate, eyes scanning my hands instead of my face.
"Relax," he said. "I just want to talk."
I smiled faintly.
Alex had taught me that too.
People who want to talk don't corner you.
"You picked a strange place," I replied. "And a worse approach."
His gaze sharpened. "You're Alex's."
Not a question.
Something cold slid through me—not fear.
Anger.
"I'm my own," I said. "Say what you came to say."
He studied me for a moment, reassessing. I could almost see the calculation shifting behind his eyes.
"They're curious," he said finally. "About what he's risking."
"And you volunteered to find out?"
A shrug. "Seemed easy."
I dropped my bag.
It hit the ground with a dull thud.
The sound echoed.
His eyes flicked down instinctively.
That was his mistake.
I moved before the moment could break—fast, controlled, exactly how I'd practiced it a hundred times. I didn't aim to hurt him.
I aimed to end it.
My elbow caught his wrist. A twist. A step inside his balance. He gasped—not in pain, but surprise.
Good.
I pressed him back against the wall, forearm firm at his throat—not crushing, just enough to make a point.
"You came to measure me," I said quietly. "So here's your answer."
His pulse thudded wildly beneath my arm.
"I'm not the weakness you're hoping for."
I stepped back and released him.
He didn't move right away.
When he finally did, it was slow. Careful.
"Alex taught you well," he said hoarsely.
"No," I replied. "Alex taught me to survive. I taught myself the rest."
He nodded once, then backed away—gone as quickly as he'd appeared.
The silence returned.
This time, it didn't feel wrong.
I picked up my bag, hands steady, heart calm.
Only when I reached the open quad did my phone buzz.
Alex: Where are you?
I typed back without hesitation.
Me: Walking. I'm fine.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then—
Alex: Did something happen?
I looked around at the students laughing, the sun dipping low, the world pretending it hadn't just leaned too close.
Me: Yes.
And I handled it.
There was a pause longer than the others.
Then—
Alex: I'm coming.
I smiled to myself—not because I needed him to.
But because I wanted him to know—
I wasn't just standing beside him anymore.
I was standing with him.
And whoever was watching?
They'd learned something today.
So had I.