After the training ended, the others drifted into the garden, laughter echoing faintly through the halls. Iman went to the balcony to be alone, breathing in the cool air, letting the silence soothe her.
Suddenly, arms wrapped around her from behind. The embrace was firm but still, unmoving. For a heartbeat, Iman's lips curved faintly - she thought it was Lucien. He often came to her this way, silent and warm, letting his presence speak more than words.
She let herself relax, whispering his name softly.
But then the stillness shifted. The grip at her waist tightened, possessive, wrong. Fingers pressed with intent, sliding upward beneath the edge of her shirt.
Before she could react, the Professor lowered his head. His lips brushed against her neck, leaving cold, damp kisses that made her skin crawl. Then inhaled deeply, sniffing her as if trying to memorize her scent.
Iman's breath caught, her body stiffening. In that instant, she realized the truth: this was not Lucien.
It was the Professor.
Shock turned to fury. Iman twisted sharply, breaking free from his hold. Her eyes blazed as she faced him. "Don't touch me," she snapped, voice trembling with anger.
The Professor's gaze was dark, unyielding. "You cannot run from me, Iman. You are mine to shape. Mine to claim."
Iman's chest rose with courage. "I belong to no one," she said firmly - then added, her voice sharp and unwavering, "I only belong to Lucien."
The words cut through the air like steel, leaving the Professor momentarily stunned.
Iman turned away, her breath unsteadies but resolve unbroken.
From the garden below, Lucien's laughter faded as he glanced up toward the balcony, sensing something was wrong. Dorian's eyes followed too, wary of the Professor's intent.
The Professor's shadow lingered, but Iman's declaration burned brighter - a warning that her heart and loyalty were already claimed, and never his to take.