CHAPTER THREE-What the Dark Pretends Not to Know..
I didn't sleep.
I lay on my back staring at the ceiling, counting the faint cracks in the paint until they blurred together. Every time I closed my eyes, Lucien's voice slid back into my head smooth, polite, confident.
There are worlds layered on top of yours.
I rolled onto my side and squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn't help. My thoughts refused to settle. They circled the same questions over and over, like teeth worrying at bone.
How did he know my name?
What rules was I breaking?
And why did Caelen look like he'd seen something inevitable when he looked at me?
The clock on my phone glowed 3:48 a.m.
Outside, Blackridge University slept. Or pretended to.
I sat up, my sheets tangling around my legs. The air in my room felt thicker than it had earlier, heavy enough to make breathing an effort. I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold.
"Get a grip," I whispered.
My shadow stretched across the wall opposite my bed, long and still. I watched it the way you watch a sleeping animal waiting for the smallest twitch.
Nothing happened.
That should have reassured me.
It didn't.
I didn't bother trying to sleep again. By the time my alarm went off, I was already dressed, backpack slung over my shoulder, exhaustion sitting behind my eyes like a bruise.
Mila stumbled in from the bathroom while I was tying my shoes, her hair a mess of curls.
Emotion
"You look like death," she said, yawning. "No offense."
"None taken."
She squinted at me. "You okay?"
I hesitated. The truth pressed against my teeth, sharp and dangerous. I swallowed it.
"Just tired."
She shrugged. "Same. People were losing their minds online last night. Did you see the videos?"
My pulse jumped. "What videos?"
She rummaged through her bag. "Someone posted a clip from yesterday before it got taken down. The scream. The running. Then it just… cuts."
"Cuts how?"
"Like someone sliced the file in half," she said. "Everyone's saying the university wiped the footage."
That chill crept back into my spine.
"That's not normal," I murmured.
Mila snorted. "Nothing about this place is normal. Come on, we're going to be late."
The morning air outside was sharp and cool, carrying the scent of damp stone and coffee. Students streamed past us, talking about assignments and parties and anything but the thing that had happened less than twenty-four hours ago.
Blackridge was already forgetting.
That scared me more than the blood.
As we crossed the quad, I felt it again that subtle pressure at the base of my skull. The feeling of being watched.
I slowed.
Mila kept walking for a few steps before noticing. "You good?"
"Yeah," I lied.
My gaze scanned the crowd.
That's when I saw him.
Caelen stood near the steps of the political science building, leaning against the railing like he belonged there. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were alert, tracking movement in a way that reminded me of a predator pretending not to hunt.
When his gaze met mine, something inside me tightened.
He straightened.
Mila followed my stare. "Wow," she muttered. "Who is that?"
"I don't know," I said too quickly.
Caelen pushed away from the railing and walked toward us. With every step, the noise of the quad seemed to dull, like the world was politely stepping back to make room.
"Morning," he said, stopping in front of me.
My heart kicked against my ribs. "Do you usually sneak up on people before breakfast?"
A faint smile touched his lips. "Only when it's important."
Mila's eyes flicked between us. "Do you… know each other?"
"No," I said.
"Yes," Caelen said at the same time.
I shot him a look.
He ignored it. "We spoke last night."
"Oh," Mila said slowly, eyebrows rising. "So that's how it is."
"It's not," I said.
Caelen's gaze softened, just a fraction. "We need to talk."
"About what?" Mila asked.
"Not here," he replied.
I crossed my arms. "You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
A group of students passed close by, laughing loudly. Caelen's jaw tightened until they moved on.
"Tonight," he said quietly. "You shouldn't be alone."
Mila blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I'm fine," I snapped.
Caelen held my gaze. "You're not."
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes concern edged with urgency.
Before I could respond, a familiar smooth voice cut through the moment.
"Well," Lucien said, "this is already more interesting than I hoped."
My stomach dropped.
He stood a few feet away, immaculate as ever, hands clasped behind his back like he'd wandered into a pleasant conversation by accident.
Mila's eyes widened. "Who's that?"
Lucien smiled at her. "A friend."
Caelen stepped subtly closer to me. "You shouldn't be here."
Lucien tilted his head. "And yet, here I am."
The air between them felt tight, charged, like a storm waiting to break.
"I have class," I blurted.
Both of them looked at me.
Lucien's smile softened. "Of course you do."
Caelen exhaled sharply. "We'll talk later."
"This evening," Lucien added smoothly. "I do love an audience."
"No," I said.
They both ignored me.
Mila grabbed my arm. "Okay, I don't know what's happening, but I do know I don't like it."
"Smart girl," Lucien said pleasantly.
She bristled. "I don't like you."
He laughed. "Most don't. At first."
I dragged Mila away before either of them could say more. My pulse raced all the way to class.
The lecture passed in a blur. Words slid off my brain without sticking. I kept expecting the lights to flicker again, for my shadow to misbehave, for something impossible to happen.
Nothing did.
By the time afternoon rolled around, my nerves were shot.
I skipped my last class and headed for the one place that felt marginally safer: the library.
The restricted collections wing sat behind a locked door most students never noticed. I shouldn't have been able to enter.
But when I pressed my palm against the scanner, it beeped and unlocked.
I froze.
"That's new," I whispered.
Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of old paper and something sharper like burnt herbs.
"Curiosity is dangerous," a voice said calmly. "But understandable."
I spun around.
Seraphina Moore stood at the end of the aisle, arms folded, eyes sharp behind wire rimmed glasses. She looked exactly as she always did neat, composed, unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here," she said.
"You let me in," I replied.
Her gaze flicked to the door. "So it seems."
I swallowed. "Do you know what's happening to me?"
She studied me for a long moment. Too long.
"Things are… shifting," she said carefully.
"That's not an answer."
"No," she agreed. "It's a warning."
My chest tightened. "Everyone keeps warning me. No one explains."
Seraphina stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Because explanations attract attention."
"I already have attention," I snapped.
Her expression softened. "Yes. You do."
"Why?"
She hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
"Whatever you think you are," she said finally, "you are not alone."
"That's supposed to comfort me?"
"It should terrify you," she replied quietly. "Because it means others like you have existed."
"And?"
"And they didn't last."
The silence pressed in around us.
"Go home," Seraphina said gently. "Lock your door tonight."
I laughed weakly. "You're not helping."
"I know," she said. "But I'm trying to keep you alive."
That evening, I walked back to my dorm under a sky bruised purple and black. The campus lights flickered on one by one, casting long shadows.
Mine lagged behind me.
I stopped.
It stopped.
Then, slowly, it lifted its head.
I ran.
By the time I slammed my door shut, my lungs burned. I leaned against the wood, heart pounding, the echo of my own footsteps ringing in my ears.
A whisper brushed the edge of my mind.
Found you.
I slid down to the floor, shaking.
Whatever was beneath Blackridge had stopped pretending it didn't know my name.
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