Wrapped in His Shadow
Amara walked out of the café, her hands trembling as she clutched the warm cup of coffee that had already lost its heat. The air outside was damp with the remnants of morning rain, but the cold she felt wasn't from the weather—it was from him.
Rafael Aldridge.
She should have been used to this by now. The way he called her attention when she least expected it. The way he pulled her into situations where she was never meant to belong. The way he always silenced the voices that insulted her—but never let her escape him.
Why did he defend her?
Why did he play this game, where he was both her tormentor and her protector?
Her thoughts were a tangled mess. He made her feel small. He made her feel noticed. He made her feel weak. He made her feel watched.
And yet…
He never let her fall completely.
But why?
She was halfway down the sidewalk, lost in her thoughts, when the roar of an engine snapped her out of her daze.
Before she could react, a car sped past her, and within seconds, a wave of filthy rainwater splashed onto her, soaking her completely.
Gasps and laughter rang from inside the car.
Her heart clenched as she recognized them.
The same group of boys from Ravenswood. The ones who had mocked her before. The ones who whispered behind her back, calling her a charity case, a beggar in a school meant for kings.
The car slowed down just enough for their voices to reach her.
"Oops." One of them laughed. "Didn't see you there, Lenz."
Another snickered. "Cold, sweetheart? Maybe you should ask your professor to warm you up."
Their words burned more than the cold.
Amara stiffened, gripping the edges of her soaked sweater. She didn't react. She didn't give them the satisfaction.
Instead, she kept walking.
By the time she reached campus, the chill had seeped into her bones. Her clothes clung uncomfortably to her body, her hair damp and disheveled.
And then—the whispers started.
Everywhere she turned, people were watching her, laughing.
"Did you see her? What a mess."
"She looks like she crawled out of a sewer."
"Pathetic."
Amara bit her lip so hard she almost tasted blood.
She wouldn't let them see her break.
But every step felt heavier, every stare sharper, every whispered insult louder.
By the time she entered her first lecture hall, the weight of their amusement was crushing.
The professor barely spared her a glance before continuing his lecture. But the students?
They didn't stop.
Someone stifled a laugh. A girl behind her whispered something to her friend before both erupted into quiet giggles.
Amara clenched her fists under the desk. It didn't matter.
She could endure this.
She had endured worse.
But the day dragged on, and with every lecture, the whispers didn't die.
And then,
The next class was his.
Rafael Aldridge.
The moment he entered the lecture hall, the energy shifted.
Students straightened. The room fell into a hush of respect and curiosity.
His presence alone demanded submission.
But when his cold gray eyes locked onto Amara, she felt her stomach twist.
She saw the briefest flicker of something in his expression.
It wasn't pity. It wasn't amusement.
It was something far colder.
"Who did this?"
His voice cut through the silence, calm and unreadable.
No one answered at first.
Then, one of the boys from earlier chuckled from the back of the room.
"What, Professor? Are we supposed to be responsible for her poor life choices?"
Laughter spread through the class, hesitant but present.
Amara held her breath.
She expected Rafael to ignore it. To let it pass.
But instead—he moved.
His strides were slow, deliberate, carrying the weight of someone who did not tolerate disobedience.
When he stopped in front of the boy's desk, the laughter died.
"Stand up," Rafael commanded.
The boy hesitated.
"I said—stand up."
The authority in his voice left no room for argument.
Reluctantly, the student rose, squaring his shoulders in false confidence.
"Since you find entertainment in humiliating others," Rafael continued, voice like sharpened steel, "let's see how well you handle humiliation yourself."
The boy smirked, attempting to mask his unease. "And if I don't?"
The entire class held its breath.
A slow smirk curled at Rafael's lips. Dangerous. Calculated.
"Then I suppose we'll have to find out."
Tension crackled in the air like a storm about to break.
And just when the silence became unbearable—Rafael shrugged off his long coat.
Then, without a word, he placed it over Amara's shoulders.
The coat draped over her shoulders was heavy.
Not just in weight, but in presence.
Amara stood frozen in place, the thick fabric surrounding her like a shield, too warm, too foreign, too his.
She hadn't even realized how badly she had been shivering until the warmth seeped into her skin, chasing away the cold that had wrapped around her since the moment she stepped onto campus in soaked, humiliated silence.
The scent clung to her immediately.
Dark. Expensive. A mix of something sharp—like cedar and leather—but beneath it was something warmer, something unmistakably him.
Rafael Aldridge.
She didn't know if it made her feel safe or suffocated.
The Weight of His Presence
The room had gone deathly silent.
Every single student in the lecture hall had their eyes on her.
On him.
She didn't dare look up at Rafael, but she could feel him—standing tall, unaffected, powerful.
He had removed his coat as if it meant nothing. As if it wasn't a statement that would leave the entire university buzzing for weeks.
And now—he was just in his shirt.
His perfectly tailored black button-up hugged his frame, the fabric stretching just slightly over broad shoulders and toned arms. The top buttons were undone, exposing a hint of his collarbone, and when he moved, the material barely concealed the strength beneath it.
He was all power and control—the kind of presence that didn't need words to command a room.
And now, that presence was wrapped around her.
The moment the lecture ended, the class exploded into hushed voices.
"Did you see that?"
"He just—gave her his coat? What does that mean?"
"Maybe she's special to him."
"Special?" A girl scoffed from across the room. "You mean pathetic. She's probably just pitiful enough to entertain him."
Amara's hands curled into fists under the coat.
She knew this would happen. Rafael Aldridge didn't do things without reason.
And now, she was a target.
Not just for mockery—but for attention.
Because now, everyone would be watching.
She wanted to take it off.
To throw the coat back at him, to push away the lingering warmth that made her too aware of him.
But her fingers refused to move.
Because, for the first time all day—she wasn't cold anymore.
And for the first time in longer than she could remember—she wasn't completely alone.
Even if she didn't understand why he did it.
Even if his kindness only left her with more questions.
Even if Rafael Aldridge was the last person she should ever feel safe with.
The boys who had humiliated Amara didn't think twice about what they had done.
They laughed about it long after class had ended, boasting about the way she walked into school dripping wet like a lost stray.
They thought Rafael had let it go.
They were wrong.
Because Rafael Aldridge never let things go.
The streets were quieter at night.
The city lights flickered against the pavement as the group of boys left a bar just outside of campus, still high on their own arrogance.
None of them noticed the black car that had been following them.
Not until it was too late.
The moment they turned the corner—the engine roared to life.
Tires screeched against the pavement as the sleek, black vehicle came straight for them.
They barely had time to react before the car swerved at the last second, missing them by an inch but sending water and debris flying into the air.
They stumbled back, cursing, panicking.
"What the hell?!" one of them shouted.
Then, the window rolled down.
And everything changed.
Rafael Aldridge sat in the driver's seat, calm, composed, deadly.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The weight of his gaze alone was enough to leave their blood cold.
A slow smirk played at his lips as he tilted his head.
"How unfortunate," he murmured, voice as smooth as silk. "Looks like the road just isn't safe tonight."
The boys stiffened.
They weren't stupid.
They knew exactly what was happening.
This wasn't an accident.
This was a message.
"You think you can scare us?" One of them forced a laugh, trying to mask the unease in his voice.
Rafael's smirk didn't fade.
"Scare you?" he echoed, amusement laced in his tone. "Oh, no. You're not worth that much effort."
The casual dismissal sent a different kind of fear down their spines.
Because Rafael Aldridge didn't have to threaten them.
He had already won.
The car inched forward just slightly—not enough to hit them, but enough to make their breath hitch.
And then—he was gone.
The tires screeched once more, and the black car vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but the aftermath of fear.
The boys didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Because they knew.
They would never cross him again.
And Amara?
She had no idea what had just been done in her name.