Beneath the Veil

The sun was sluggish over Pleasant Hills, casting a dim, indifferent glow over rooftops and narrow alleys. I should have been in class, hiding in plain sight, blending in like I always did. But today required more than empty conversations and carefully measured smirks. Today, I needed to disappear.

I slipped through the back streets of the city, the worn soles of my boots brushing silently against cobblestones slick from last night's rain. The scent of damp earth and distant pine hung in the air, but something sharper lurked beneath it—a scent I recognized too well. Blood. It clung to the edges of the city like a storm waiting to break. Ravagers. They were becoming reckless, bolder. And with every encounter, they got closer to what I swore they'd never touch—her.

Lucien was waiting when I reached the crumbling church. His tall frame was half-draped in shadow, arms folded over his chest, sharp eyes tracking me as I approached. He didn't need to say anything. I knew the situation had worsened.

"They're feeding them," Lucien said, his voice low, words cutting through the quiet. "The Thornstones have been making deals with something darker than what we've faced before."

The mention of Alexis Thornstone made the tension coil tighter in my chest. "What do they want?"

Lucien's jaw tightened. "Control. They want more than Pleasant Hills. And it's tied to that key your Monte Riego girl is carrying."

I clenched my fists, forcing back the instinct to lash out. Seraphine had no idea how deep this ran, and the Thornstones—those vipers—were already closing in.

"Keep watching them," I muttered. "And if they make another move—"

"I'll handle it," Lucien interrupted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "But don't get yourself killed babysitting her."

I shot him a cold glare, unwilling to dignify his jab with a response. Seraphine wasn't just a pawn in this game. But explaining that to Lucien was pointless. I turned on my heel and slipped back into the shadows, making my way to the academy.

When I reached the school grounds, the day had dragged well into late morning. The halls were eerily silent, the hum of lectures faint beyond closed doors. As I rounded the corner, I spotted her—Seraphine. She moved with quiet grace, her figure framed by the sun filtering through the classroom windows.

I should've looked away. I knew better than to get too close. But something about her always pulled me back, like a thread I couldn't cut loose. She hadn't seen me yet, and for a moment, I let myself stand there, just watching. Just... breathing.

When the final bell rang, I found her in the garden. She sat on a stone bench beneath the twisted branches of an old willow tree, sunlight catching in the loose strands of her dark hair. She looked peaceful. Too peaceful for someone standing on the edge of danger.

Her gaze lifted when I approached, and I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes—relief mixed with frustration.

"You weren't at school," she said quietly, brushing her fingers over the hem of her skirt.

I leaned against the bench, the sharp scent of blooming jasmine mingling with the faint cedar that clung to my clothes. "Had to take care of something important."

"You always do," she murmured, not hiding the disappointment in her voice. "It's becoming a habit."

The corner of my mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. Almost. "I'm predictable, what can I say?"

She shook her head, but the way her lips curved suggested she didn't mind as much as she let on.

A breeze stirred between us, carrying the scent of rain, and without thinking, I reached out to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. My fingers barely grazed her cheek, but the brief touch felt like an electric pulse, surging beneath my skin.

Her breath hitched, and for a fleeting second, she didn't pull away. Neither did I.

"You could've told me," she whispered, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "Why you weren't here."

I let my hand drop slowly, keeping my expression steady. "Would it have made a difference?"

"Maybe."

There was a weight to that word, something unsaid hanging between us. I should've stepped back, put distance between us like I always did. But the space between us felt fragile, and I didn't want to break it. Not yet.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," I said quietly, my gaze sweeping the garden's edges. "It's not safe."

Her brows furrowed, irritation flashing across her face. "You always say that. But you never tell me why."

Because the truth would change everything. And once she knew, I wouldn't be able to protect her from the darkness waiting just beyond the edges of this garden.

"It's safer this way," I murmured, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

She looked up at me, green eyes searching mine, trying to piece together the puzzle I refused to let her solve.

"And who's keeping you safe?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The question caught me off guard, wrapping around something deeper, something I wasn't ready to confront.

"No one," I answered truthfully.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I shook my head, stepping back before I could fall any deeper. "Go inside, Seraphine. The shadows aren't as far as they seem."

"And if I don't?" she challenged, a faint, playful lilt in her tone.

I leaned closer, my breath ghosting against her skin, the scent of her pulling me in even when I knew I shouldn't. "Then I'll have to stay."

The words felt heavier than I intended, laced with meanings I wasn't ready to admit. Her gaze flickered with something unspoken, something that felt like a tether between us, fragile but unbreakable.

And then, just as quickly, I pulled away, the familiar coldness settling over me like armor. "Don't make me stay, Seraphine."

She watched me, her expression unreadable, but I saw the flicker of emotion in her eyes—confusion, curiosity... maybe something more.

I stepped back, forcing the distance between us to stretch thin once more. "Go inside."

This time, she didn't argue. She turned slowly, the hem of her skirt brushing against the grass as she disappeared into the mansion's glow.

I stayed in the shadows a moment longer, watching until she was out of sight. The darkness around me felt heavier now, as if the weight of the world rested squarely on my shoulders.

And as I disappeared into the night, I knew—no matter how hard I tried—I was already hers.