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Chapter 7 - Chapter 7: Shadows Beneath The Smile.

For the first time in years, Elle Deveraux found herself willingly engaging in conversation with people her age. The shift was subtle—barely perceptible—but it was there. It had started with Amara.

What began as awkward small talk now bloomed into an easy companionship. Amara wasn't as self-absorbed as Elle had first assumed. That morning, when Elle had dropped her notebook in the hallway, Amara had picked it up and even helped her reorganize the messy pages with a grin. "Maybe your bag needs a zip... or a spell," she'd joked.

Elle had chuckled. A real, soft laugh.

And when their professor announced a group research project in the upcoming lecture, Amara had nudged her gently. "Let's team up?"

Elle nodded.

"Mind if we join?" a deep voice interrupted. Noah Crest stood beside them, Kai Lennox just behind, his hands buried in his pockets, his intense eyes trained solely on Elle.

Noah continued, "Kai and I were thinking of teaming up anyway. Four per group, right? You two seem like you wouldn't let us fail."

Elle hesitated.

She didn't like being too close to anyone. Yet, Elle felt oddly safe, and she had already spoken to Kai on her first day. His presence, though piercing, wasn't suffocating. And his friend seemed harmless—lighthearted even.

"Alright," Elle agreed softly.

The project was on "Criminal Psychology: The Making of a Killer." A fitting topic, Elle thought, her lips twitching almost imperceptibly.

They met later that day in the library, Amara flipping through case files and psychological journals, Noah half-joking, half-serious about which snacks he would bring for group study next time, and Kai silently focused, occasionally glancing at Elle from the corner of his eye.

Despite herself, Elle laughed when Noah dropped a pile of books all at once, dramatically declaring, "This is why I skipped arm day at the gym!"

Kai smirked. "You've never been to the gym."

"You wound me, Lennox."

Even Elle couldn't suppress a smile.

Amara leaned over. "This is probably the most fun I've had in college. You?"

Elle blinked. Fun. She hadn't thought of it that way. But yes… the laughter, the chatter, the shared glances. It was something close to joy.

They later moved to the cafeteria. Over coffee and sandwiches, they distributed roles—Noah would handle criminal case research, Amara the behavioral aspects, Kai would work on the history and development of criminal profiling, and Elle, surprisingly, volunteered to do the conclusion and psychological analysis.

Kai, quietly observing her, seemed entranced by the soft gleam in her eyes, the way her lips curled when she explained a theory.

He was mesmerized by her.

Unbeknownst to them, someone else was watching.

Across the campus walkway, standing just outside the cafeteria with his own group trailing behind him, Vincent Alden paused mid-step. His tray remained untouched, his posture relaxed—but his eyes were locked on Elle. She was laughing, head tilted slightly, the sunlight catching the curve of her cheek. But what made something twist sharply in his chest wasn't her smile.

It was the way Kai Lennox looked at her—like he already knew her, like she belonged near him. That subtle lean forward, the ease in his gaze, the way his hand brushed hers when they passed a notebook.

Vincent's jaw tensed, the corner of his mouth twitching.

A beat later, he turned away without a word. But the calm he wore like armor had begun to crack—just slightly.

 

After the last lecture, they parted ways. The sun had begun to dip, painting the sky in strokes of orange and red.

As they walked across the cobbled path leading to the college gates, Amara nudged Elle. "Hey, you okay? You look... off."

Elle forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired. Not used to so much… talking."

But her eyes flickered back—toward a dense patch of trees on the other side of the road. She couldn't explain it, but there it was again—that unsettling feeling.

Like she was being watched.

And for a split second, she thought she saw a shadow flinch and move deeper into the foliage.

 

That night, everything felt too quiet.

Elle lay in her room, the soft rustle of leaves whispering through the slightly open window. Nyla, her white cat, lay curled beside her, peaceful.

Until she wasn't.

A sudden hiss. Then another.

Elle jerked awake.

Nyla stood on the edge of the bed, back arched, eyes glowing in the dim light. Her fur stood on end, claws unsheathed.

Scratch. Scratch. Hiss.

Elle sat up, heart pounding. That sound wasn't from inside.

She turned toward the window—and just in time, caught a glimpse of a figure darting away.

She rushed to the window, pushing it wide. A dark silhouette leapt down from the large oak tree that stood dangerously close to her balcony. The figure landed on the grass with a feline grace, then disappeared behind the garden wall.

Elle's blood ran cold.

Her sanctuary had been breached.

She called for Martha, who hurried in, groggy but alert at the sight of Elle's expression.

"Call Edric. Now," Elle ordered.

Within minutes, Edric arrived with a flashlight and hurried toward the backyard.

That's when they noticed it.

The dogs—usually alert and growling at the slightest rustle—were still. Peacefully asleep by their kennel.

And around them… tiny chunks of meat.

Elle's gaze darkened.

"They were drugged," she said, more to herself than anyone.

Edric's jaw tightened. "I'll have this meat examined. Call the vet immediately."

By the time the vet arrived, the dogs' vitals confirmed their suspicions. Sleeping agents had been laced into the meat. Whoever had come prepared. This wasn't a random break-in.

This was calculated.

Elle's fingers brushed the window frame. The faintest scratch mark… a boot sole imprint on the balcony.

Her heart should've raced with fear.

But it didn't.

Instead, something darker stirred within her. A chilling calm. A flicker of amusement, even.

Someone was playing a game.

And she'd play too.

Only, the rules were hers now.

 

In a dim apartment far from the estate, the same figure entered through a barely cracked door. The interior was almost empty, save for the flickering of a small desk lamp.

A wall, plastered with photographs.

Elle in the cafeteria. Elle at the library. Elle laughing. Elle walking home. Each picture carefully labeled with a date and time.

Next to them, handwritten notes. Observations. Times. Patterns. Even the layout of her estate's grounds.

The figure stood in front of the board, their face hidden beneath the hood. They reached out and gently pinned a new photo—Elle in her bedroom window, taken from across the street with a telephoto lens.

No name. No face.

Just obsession.

They stared at the photo a little too long, breathing slow and steady.

Then, they smiled.

 

To be continued....

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