(Liana's POV)
The applause from the Talent Festival had faded days ago, but its echoes lingered. Wherever Liana walked through the marbled halls of Regal Heights, whispers trailed after her like ghosts. Some voices carried awe, some envy, and too many carried venom.
"She thinks she's better than us now."
"Zayn should've won. Everyone knows it."
"Scholarship girl probably got help from someone higher up."
Liana lifted her chin and kept walking, refusing to let their words settle. But each one landed like a pebble in her chest, heavy enough to remind her she didn't belong here.
By the time the final bell rang that Thursday, she wanted nothing more than the sanctuary of the art room. Bianca had texted her earlier...Meet me by the courtyard, I want to talk about something. Liana didn't question it. Bianca had been her first friend at Regal Heights. The one who smiled when others sneered. The one who held her hand when she trembled. The one who… lately, had started to feel different.
Still, loyalty mattered.
The courtyard was quiet when she arrived. Too quiet.
The fountain gurgled lazily in the center, its water catching the afternoon light. A breeze stirred the ivy that climbed the stone walls. But no Bianca. No familiar voice calling her name.
Instead, three figures stepped out from the shadows near the archway.
Upperclassmen. Broad-shouldered. Faces sharp with mischief.
Liana's pulse stumbled.
"Well, well," one of them drawled, a mocking smile spreading. "If it isn't Regal Heights' new golden girl."
Liana instinctively hugged her sketchpad tighter against her chest. "I don't want trouble."
The tallest one chuckled. "Trouble? Nah. We just want to congratulate you. Not every day a… what was the word again?" His friend smirked. "Ah. Scholarship trash takes the crown."
Her throat tightened, but she forced her voice steady. "Move. I'm leaving."
"Oh, you'll leave," the first boy sneered, stepping closer. "But not before we make sure you remember who really runs this place."
Her mind raced. The hallway was empty. Her phone was in her bag. There was no one here to....
A flicker of paint-stained memory stopped her. The vandalized table. The ruined canvas. The black paint splatter. Each act whispered the same thing: "Someone doesn't want you here".
And now, as the boys closed in, she couldn't shake the strange, bitter thought that this wasn't random. Someone had sent them.
"Stay away from me," she said sharply, though her voice cracked at the end.
The second boy laughed. "Or what? You'll draw us to death?"
Her chest constricted. Fear clawed up her throat, but before she could move....
"Enough."
The voice cut through the courtyard like a blade. Cold. Unhurried.
The three boys froze.
From the archway behind them, a figure emerged. Tall. Dark uniform. Sharp eyes that gleamed like steel beneath the fading light.
Rafe Sterling.
The Viper who never smiled. The shadow among kings.
His gaze swept the scene once...slow, deadly. "Do you idiots know whose property you're standing on?"
The tallest boy stammered. "W-We were just...."
"Leaving," Rafe interrupted, his tone so flat it made Liana's skin prickle. He didn't raise his voice. Didn't threaten. He simply stated, and somehow it was more terrifying than any shout.
The boys exchanged uneasy glances, then backed away with muttered excuses. One of them muttered, "Crazy Vipers," under his breath, but none dared look back as they vanished into the shadows.
Silence fell.
Liana's heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Rafe didn't look at her right away. He simply stood there, hands in his pockets, as if her near-attack had been a minor inconvenience. Finally, his eyes met hers. Icy. Unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here alone," he said.
Her lips parted, but words tangled in her throat. "I… Bianca asked me to meet her."
His expression didn't shift, but something flickered briefly in his gaze. "Bianca." He said the name like it was a test. A calculation. Then he shook his head. "Be smarter, Hart. Not everyone smiles with clean hands."
The implication landed sharp, but before she could question it, he turned slightly, as if already done with her.
"You're welcome," he added, his tone flat, detached, almost mocking.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Gratitude warred with indignation. "I didn't ask you to save me."
"No," he said, finally meeting her eyes again. "But you needed it."
The words stung. Not because they were cruel, but because they were true.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other. Her chest still heaving from fear. His posture calm, almost bored, though his gaze never wavered. There was no arrogance, no charm, no smirk like Xavier or Zayn. Just silence. Cold. Heavy.
She should've hated it.
And yet… as he finally walked away, disappearing into the shadows as easily as he'd arrived, something in her shifted.
Her breath steadied. Her thoughts spun.
She had always assumed all the Vipers were the same..cruel, shallow, untouchable. But Rafe… he was different. Not kind, not warm. But different.
That night, back in her room, Liana sat by her window with her sketchpad open.
Her pencil moved almost of its own accord, sketching sharp lines, quiet shadows, a figure half-lit by fading light.
Not Xavier. Not Zayn.
Rafe.
The boy who saved her with silence.
The boy whose coldness somehow left the strangest warmth behind.