Merlina's POV
Megan dropped me off at the School Library, saying she needed to finish up on her assignment back at the dorm. I told her it was fine—I wanted to be alone, needed the space to breathe, to think.
She grabbed a couple of textbooks on her way back and kissed my cheek before leaving. I thanked her again. She had no idea how much she'd already done.
But now that I was here, alone, in this dim, cold library filled with the scent of old pages and silence, I felt… restless.
What was I even supposed to do now?
I knew his name.
His department.
I knew his brother.
So… what now?
What was I expecting to do when I finally came face-to-face with the bastard who'd ruined my family?
I didn't have a plan—I just had rage.
Grief.
Questions that burned through my blood.
Did Craig already know who I was? Was that why he was so cold with me—mysterious, unreadable? Did I ever tell him my last name? I couldn't even remember.
One thing was clear, this library wasn't going to help me figure out anything.
I got up and left, deciding that a walk might offer the clarity I was desperate for. Maybe it would trigger a vision—some kind of instinct—on what to do next.
But the moment I stepped down the front stairs of the library, there he was.
Craig Lesnar.
Standing there like the universe was bored and decided to mess with me. Hands in his jacket pockets. That annoyingly unreadable expression on his face.
Tall. Sharp-jawed. The kind of composure that felt rehearsed. Like he'd been trained his whole life to never flinch, no matter how close the truth got.
My stomach twisted.
Of all people—of all moments—why him now?
He hadn't seen me yet, I was sure of it. But I froze anyway. Halfway down the steps, heart punching at my ribs. A dozen thoughts fought for dominance in my head. Most of them sounded like, Shit. Shit. Shit.
I didn't know how to be around him anymore.
Not after everything. Not after learning what I knew.
Not after that night that shouldn't have happened—but did.
My mind immediately flashed to it. His hand holding me close. The way his breath caught when our faces almost touched. How the silence afterward felt heavier than my feet could carry.
It was supposed to be one meaningless moment but instead, it lingered deep within me, refusing to fade.
Now I knew who he really was. Or at least, who his family was.
And yet…
God, why did he still make my pulse skip like that?
I looked away, clenching my jaw. No. I wasn't going to do this. I wasn't going to let him unravel me with a single glance.
I turned fast, heading down the steps, feet hitting the stone faster than I intended. Eyes fixed straight ahead, like I had somewhere urgent to be—anywhere that wasn't within three feet of him.
"Hey," his voice called out behind me. "Wait up."
I kept walking.
He hadn't said my name. That gave me an out, right? He could've been talking to anyone.
I picked up the pace, hoping my body language screamed not today.
But then I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps—fast and determined—closing in behind me.
"Merlina."
He said my name like it was a challenge. Or a dare. And then—his hand. Fingers curling around my wrist, firm but not rough.
I stopped and turned halfway, forcing myself to act like I had it together.
"Hi," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear like it was nothing. Like my heart wasn't thudding so loud I could barely hear myself think.
I wasn't just nervous—I was spinning. This man had once held me like he knew me. Like he saw straight through all my pain and chose to hold what was underneath with care.
And now… here we were.
On opposite sides of the truth.
"We need to talk," he said, finally letting go of my wrist.
Those words landed hard.
He knew.
"I… I can't. I have an assignment I need to get back to."
"Right now?"
"Yes. Right now." I turned to leave, voice clipped.
If I stayed a second longer, he'd see through me. I'd never been good at pretending.
"I know you talked to Louis."
My steps faltered.
What?
How did he know that?
Has he been spying on me?
"What did he tell you?" he asked, stepping closer.
"What?"
"What did Louis tell you about your mother?" His voice was tight, edged with something I couldn't quite place—fear? Anger?
I blinked. "I don't know what you're talking ab—"
"Stop it." His jaw clenched. "Don't play dumb. Just tell me what he said."
And there it was—that tone. The one that sounded too much like a warning.
Something twisted in my gut. Every single thing Louiss had ever said about The Lesnars came rushing back to me like a flood I couldn't hold back.
"Or what?" I said, voice low. "You'll kill me too? Like your brother killed my mother?"
It was out before I could stop it.
And the second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Craig recoiled like I'd punch him in the face.
"W-what?" he said, his voice caught somewhere between disbelief and anger. "Are you out of your mind? Is that what Louis fed you?" He let out a dry, bitter laugh and looked away, like even meeting my eyes was too much. "And of course—you just ate it up without thinking."
"You knew," I said quietly, the accusation trembling in my voice. "All along. That I was the daughter of your brother's victim. That's why you kept your distance. Why you were always so cold with me. How did you know I spoke to Louis…were you spying on me?!"
"What?!" he snapped, too quickly. "Phoebe told Keith, you—" He stopped himself, biting down hard on the rest of his words. His jaw tensed as he exhaled sharply, scanning the empty space around us like he needed something to anchor him. "I wasn't spying, Merlina. I just… I found out you were Mrs. Marjorie's daughter. That's why I was looking for you all over campus."
Phoebe? That loudmouth couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it.
"Forget about all of this," he said. "And stay away from Conor. Do you hear me?"
Forget? As if I could erase a lifetime of grief like it was a bad dream?
"Why?" I asked, staring him down.
He paused. His eyes darkened.
"Why shouldn't I confront your brother?" I pushed, my voice rising. "Scared he'll make me victim number two? That he'll kill me too, and your sick family will sweep it under the rug like they did with my mother?"
His face shifted. Not with shock—but with fury.
"Don't you dare speak about my family like that," he said, tone clipped but intense. "Conor didn't hurt your mother. Louis is grasping as straws, he's hated us for years, and now he's using you to finish what he started."
"And you expect me to believe you?" I asked, my voice shaky but sharp.
"No, I expect you to not be stupid." he said, his tone cold and impatient. "If this is why you came to Belview, then I'm telling you right now—drop it. Walk away. Hell, I'll even pay for you to transfer somewhere else. But whatever this obsession is, it's over."
That did it.
I stood there, stunned, the weight of his words sinking in. So this was it. This was the real him. Money, power, and empty threats. Just like the rest of his damn family. Trying to fix everything with cash and condescension.
"You're pathetic," I said, barely above a whisper, but the disgust in my voice was clear. "If you really think you can buy me like your family bought the authorities… you're more disgusting than I ever imagined."
His lips parted, about to speak—but I wasn't done.
"If I have to bring your brother down myself, I will. And if you're part of it—if you helped cover it up—I won't hesitate to take you down too."
He looked like I'd hit him square in the chest.
The silence between us sizzled, heavy and dangerous.
"Do whatever you want," he said, his voice steady and low, filled with something dark. "But I warned you. My brother's my family, just like your mother is yours. Mess with him, and you'll make me your enemy."
"As far as I'm concerned," I said, keeping my voice even, "you already are."
He didn't say anything. Just shot me one last look, impenetrable and cold—his eyes flicking from mine to my trembling hands, before he turned and walked away.
A year ago, if someone had told me this is where I'd end up—entangled in lies, drowning in pain, caught in a web of chaos—I would've laughed in their face.
But here I was, trapped in a battle I never chose, a war that had already claimed so much.
And there was no turning back.
I wouldn't quit. I couldn't.
Not when everything that mattered was on the line.