Chapter 3 – The Wrong Kind of Interest.

If there was a ranking system for unpleasant class experiences, this one would be at the top of my list.

I had barely recovered from the absolute humiliation that was combat training when I walked into my next class: Supernatural Ethics & Law.

Yes. That's right. A class dedicated to rules that most people here ignored.

The classroom was as extravagant as the rest of Eldermire tall arched windows, dark oak tables, and a massive chalkboard filled with elegant cursive script. Students were already seated, some chatting, some flipping through their books.

I was not in the mood for any of it.

The only upside was that I was early enough to pick my own seat. I slipped into one near the middle, unpacked my notebook, and prepared myself for a long, boring lecture.

Unfortunately, fate hated me.

Because the moment I got comfortable, the air shifted.

The quiet hum of conversation died. The atmosphere grew heavier.

And I just knew who it was.

Raphael Ash.

I kept my eyes firmly on my notebook, pretending like I was deeply invested in the blank page in front of me. Maybe if I ignored him, this would be fine.

But of course, it wasn't fine.

Because Professor Aldric strolled into the room, scanned the seating arrangement, and said the worst possible thing.

"Raphael, take the seat next to Mirabel."

You've got to be kidding me.

I didn't move. Didn't react. But I felt it the shift in energy as he walked past.

Slow. Controlled. Calculated.

He took the seat beside me without a word.

I forced myself to keep my focus on my notebook, gripping my pen like it was the last weapon I had left.

Silence.

He wasn't looking at me.

Good.

That was good.

Professor Aldric started the lecture, going on about the balance between realms, supernatural law, and other things I wasn't actually listening to.

Because even though Raphael wasn't looking at me, I could feel him.

Like a storm sitting at the edge of my skin.

Every movement **the way he turned a page, the way he shifted slightly in his chair **felt charged.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

I risked a glance.

And immediately regretted it.

His red eyes were already on me.

Cold. Sharp. Calculating.

I blinked, my grip tightening around my pen. "What?"

His gaze didn't waver. "You ask too many questions."

I frowned. "I haven't even spoken to you."

"Exactly."

I stared at him. "That doesn't even make sense."

He didn't respond. Didn't blink. Just kept watching me.

And I hated that it made my stomach tighten.

I turned back to my notes, determined to pretend he didn't exist. Raphael Ash was arrogant, unreadable, and most importantly not my problem.

Unfortunately, someone else had been watching this entire exchange.

A soft chuckle drifted from the seat behind us.

"Well, this is interesting," a familiar voice drawled.

I closed my eyes and sighed. Of course.

Azazel.

Because this day wasn't already terrible enough.

Azazel was enjoying this.

I could hear it in the way he exhaled—a low, amused chuckle, as if he had just walked in on something far more entertaining than a lecture on supernatural law.

I turned slightly, just enough to catch the mischievous glint in his dark red eyes. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on Raphael's chair like he belonged there.

"Well, well," he murmured. "Didn't think I'd live to see the day my dear little brother voluntarily sat next to someone."

Raphael didn't react. Not at first.

Then, slowly, he turned his head—not to look at Azazel, but to look past him.

Like he wasn't even worth acknowledging.

The tension shifted.

I wasn't an expert in Nephilim-Demon sibling dynamics, but I knew disrespect when I saw it.

Azazel's smirk twitched.

"I know ignoring me must be a coping mechanism for you," he mused, tapping a finger against the desk, "but it doesn't change the fact that I'm still here. And more importantly—"

He flicked his gaze toward me.

"—so is she."

My stomach tightened.

I did not like the way he said that.

Raphael exhaled quietly, a slow, controlled breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, even.

"You talk too much."

Azazel grinned.

"And you feel too much."

The air shifted again.

Raphael's fingers curled slightly against the desk, his jaw tightening—just for a fraction of a second, so fast I almost missed it. But Azazel saw it.

He let out another mocking chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, little brother. No need to get all worked up. I was just curious." He tilted his head toward me. "About her."

I tensed. "You two know I'm right here, right?"

Azazel's grin widened. "Oh, we're very aware, little Forsaken."

I rolled my eyes. "Great. Love being the subject of an awkward sibling stare-down."

Raphael didn't respond.

He just picked up his pen, flipped open his notebook, and returned to his work like the conversation had never even happened.

Azazel let out a dramatic sigh. "Ah. There it is. The legendary Raphael Ash cold shoulder."

I frowned. "You act like you don't get it all the time."

Azazel barked out a laugh. "Oh, I do. But it's funnier when someone else experiences it."

I wasn't sure if I should be offended or concerned.

Before I could respond, Professor Aldric's voice cut through the tension.

"Gentlemen," he said sharply, glancing over his glasses. "Perhaps you'd like to share your conversation with the class?"

Raphael didn't even look up. "No."

Azazel smirked. "Maybe later."

Professor Aldric exhaled heavily. "Then kindly shut up."

The class snickered.

Azazel winked at me before leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head like this was all a game.

Raphael, as expected, did not react.

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

Between one brother who never stopped talking and one who barely spoke at all, I wasn't sure which was worse.

All I knew was that I was stuck between them.

The whispers started small.

Soft murmurs, barely noticeable over the professor's voice. But they grew, spreading through the class like a slow-moving wildfire.

I felt the stares. Sideways glances. Quick looks. A few not-so-subtle gestures in my direction.

They weren't even pretending anymore.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my eyes to stay locked on my notes. Ignore it. Pretend it's not happening.

Unfortunately, Raphael did not help my situation.

Because without warning, without hesitation, he did something unbelievably stupid.

He shifted in his chair, exhaled quietly then placed his arm on the back of my seat.

Just casually. Effortlessly. Like it was nothing.

Like we knew each other.

Like we were familiar.

I froze.

Every conversation in the class lowered to a whisper.

I could feel the attention, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. Why is Raphael Ash sitting with her? Why is he touching her chair? Who the hell is this Forsaken girl?

My stomach tightened.

I did not want this attention.

I did not want more rumors.

And yet, Raphael?

He didn't even seem to notice.

He just listened to the lecture, completely relaxed, his crimson eyes lazily focused on the professor like he hadn't just given the entire school something to gossip about.

What the hell was wrong with him?

I stiffened, keeping my shoulders as still as possible. Don't react. Don't make it worse.

Azazel, of course, found the entire situation hilarious.

I saw his smirk widen from the corner of my eye. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His silent amusement was loud enough.

Then

My phone vibrated.

I nearly jumped out of my seat, heart lurching in my chest. Sh*t.

I quickly pulled it from my pocket, exhaling in relief when I saw that it was on silent.

A message from Sofia.

I opened it.

And nearly choked.

It was a picture.

Of me.

Of Raphael.

Of Azazel smirking behind us.

From across the room.

Which was impossible.

Because Sofia wasn't in this class.

I blinked, my stomach dropping.

Another message.

Sofia: MIRA, WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL??!!

My heart sank.

I immediately switched to the school's online group chat.

And.

There it was.

A flood of messages.

Who is the Forsaken girl sitting with Raphael??

Azazel is talking to her too? What is happening??

This is the first time Raphael has acknowledged someone outside the Supreme Council.

Are we witnessing a miracle?

Is she suicidal??

This girl is either really lucky or really dead.

I bet she's a new plaything for Azazel.

Look at the way Raphael is sitting. Bro does NOT do that with people.

I slammed my phone facedown on the desk, my pulse hammering.

This wasn't just classroom gossip.

The entire school saw it.

And now, I was the center of attention.

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.

I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. Just get through the class. Don't react. Don't make it worse.

But as I tried to focus on my notes, I felt Raphael's gaze flicker toward me for just a second.

Not a full look.

Just a brief glance.

Like he had noticed my tension.

Like he had felt it.

I didn't know why, but that made it worse.

The second the lecture ended, I was out of my seat.

Fast. Efficient. Practically teleporting.

Because I needed out.

Away from the stares. Away from the whispers. Away from the growing storm that Raphael and Azazel had just thrown me into.

I shoved my books into my bag, head down, focused on my escape.

Unfortunately

Raphael was faster.

His chair scraped back. His presence loomed.

And before I could take three steps, his voice calm, deep, cold cut through the noise like a blade.

"Where are you rushing to?"

I stopped.

Slowly, I turned. Met his gaze.

His red eyes were unreadable, his face still void of emotion.

I wanted to punch him.

I inhaled, slowly. "Anywhere that isn't here."

He didn't move. Didn't react. Just stared at me.

Azazel of course was enjoying this.

He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, watching us like a highly entertaining drama was unfolding.

"Well, well," he drawled, his smirk widening. "Did you two suddenly become friends? Or are you still pretending you don't know why he's acting weird?"

I blinked.

What.

What the hell did that mean?

I shot Raphael a quick glance. He wasn't looking at Azazel.

No.

He was looking at me.

And his expression had changed.

Slightly.

Just barely.

But I caught it.

A flicker of something in his gaze.

Something he was hiding.

Something he hadn't figured out yet.

I frowned. "What is your problem?"

Raphael's jaw tensed.

Just a little.

Like my words irritated him.

But before he could answer, Azazel laughed.

"I'll tell you what his problem is," he said, his tone light and mocking. "You exist, little Forsaken. And for some unknown reason, Raphael can't ignore you."

My entire body stiffened.

And Raphael?

His gaze snapped to Azazel.

And for the first time, I saw it.

Tension.

The kind that crackled like ice meeting fire.

The kind that told me.

They really, truly, did not like each other.

Azazel's smirk didn't waver, but his eyes darkened slightly. Challenging. Pushing.

Raphael's entire body was still, but there was something dangerous in his silence.

A storm beneath the surface.

My stomach tightened.

What the hell was this?

Why did it feel like I was the match that had lit something between them?

I swallowed.

I needed to leave.

Now.

So, I took a breath, ignored both of them, and turned on my heel.

But just as I walked past Raphael, his voice low, controlled, but tense brushed against my ear.

"You should stay away from him."

I stopped.

Just for a second.

Then, without looking at him, I kept walking.

Because no.

Raphael Ash was not going to tell me what to do.

I was done with today.

Completely, utterly, done.

I had barely escaped the tension between Raphael and Azazel when the air shifted again.

This time, it wasn't fire and ice.

It was something else.

Something sharp. Cold. Unforgiving.

The hallway grew quiet.

Students stepped aside, moving quickly, carefully.

Like they knew better than to be in the way of what was coming.

And then I saw her.

Hazel Brown.

Tall. Elegant. Deadly.

Moving through the hall like a sharpened blade in silk.

Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, perfectly smooth. Her uniform was immaculate. Her gaze? Frozen steel.

And it was locked on me.

I slowed.

Not out of fear. Out of caution.

Because something about the way she was walking…

It wasn't casual.

It wasn't the usual, effortless glide of the school's elite.

No.

It was intentional.

A hunter approaching its target.

I exhaled slowly, keeping my posture straight. If she was coming for a fight, she was going to be disappointed.

Unfortunately, I forgot one thing.

Hazel was an angel.

And she was fast.

Before I could even think to move.

Her hand snapped around my wrist.

Tight. Unyielding.

I tensed. "Excuse me?"

She said nothing.

Not a word.

She just turned and started walking.

Dragging me with her.

I struggled immediately, trying to yank my arm back. "What the actual f**k"

Her grip tightened.

Hard.

Not enough to break anything.

Just enough to make me understand.

This was not optional.

I clenched my jaw. "You could have just asked, you know."

Hazel finally spoke calm, clipped, eerily composed.

"No. I couldn't."

What?

I tried again to wrench my arm free. Nothing.

Her fingers might as well have been iron shackles.

Students in the hallway whispered as we passed. But not a single one of them intervened.

Not that I was surprised. This was Eldermire.

And Hazel Brown was not someone you defied.

Still, I wasn't just going to let her drag me off to god-knows-where without an explanation.

I scowled. "Where the hell are we going?"

Hazel didn't look at me. Didn't even slow down.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Fantastic.

Absolutely fantastic.