Anya barely slept.
Liam's final words kept replaying in her mind like a curse—
"You're in danger. From everyone. And maybe from me."
Who says that to a stranger?
Who looks at someone the way he looked at her—
like he owned her the moment she stepped on campus?
By morning, she convinced herself she was overthinking.
Jet lag, stress, new city… that had to be it.
She tied her hair into a loose braid, applied light lip gloss, and headed for her first class.
As she walked across the courtyard, she felt… watched.
Not by the crowd.
Not by the students whispering about the new Indian girl.
By one person.
And when she looked up—
Liam was standing under a tree, hands in his pockets, staring directly at her.
He didn't look away.
Didn't blink.
Didn't pretend he wasn't waiting.
He just… watched.
Her heartbeat quickened.
He walked toward her, slow, confident, like he had all the time in the world.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
She stopped short. "How would you know?"
"You have a tell."
"A tell?"
He pointed at her wrist.
"You twist the end of your sleeves when you're exhausted."
Anya instantly dropped her hand.
"How do you notice things like that?"
Liam gave a half-smile.
"I don't notice things. I notice you."
She swallowed hard. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Staring at me like you're trying to figure out my blood type."
He leaned in slightly—too close, too intentional.
"You're O positive."
Her eyes widened. "How do you—?"
"I told you." His voice dipped darker. "I make it a point to know everything worth knowing."
She took a step back.
Liam didn't follow.
He just lowered his head a little, letting his voice drop to a whisper meant only for her ears.
"You should be careful walking alone at night. This campus looks safe… but it isn't."
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, frustrated and scared.
He studied her expression—slowly, intensely.
"Because some people have already noticed you."
His jaw flexed.
"And I don't like the way they look at what's mine."
She froze.
"What do you mean yours? You don't even know me."
He stepped closer.
"I know enough."
"No, you don't," she whispered.
His eyes darkened.
"You're wrong, Anya. I know more about you than anyone ever has."
Her breath hitched.
Liam saw it.
And his expression softened—not kind, but dangerous in its gentleness.
"Relax," he murmured. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Why should I believe that?"
"Because if I wanted to… you wouldn't be standing here."
Her pulse raced.
Liam noticed that too.
He always noticed.
Then suddenly—
he brushed past her, shoulder grazing hers, and whispered against her ear:
"Meet me after class. I'll be waiting."
She turned.
"Why?"
He didn't look back.
"Because you need protection."
"Protection from who?" she demanded.
Finally, he stopped.
Turned.
Met her eyes with a cold, dangerous calm.
"From the people who followed you last night."
The world seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
"What?"
"I was watching," Liam said simply.
"And I don't regret it."
Then he walked away.
Leaving Anya standing there, heart thundering, breath shaking—
realizing her life wasn't just changing.
It was spiraling into something dark.
Something she couldn't escape.
Something… that felt like him.