Not Scared. Just Startled.

Dante didn't move at first. He just stood there, staring at me with those sharp, unreadable eyes. It was the kind of silence that stretched too long, the kind that made you second-guess every decision that led up to this moment.

Then, his lips curled—not into a smirk, not into a frown, but something caught between amusement and something darker. Like he was deciding whether to laugh or break my jaw.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" His voice was quiet, too quiet, and somehow that was worse than if he'd yelled.

I tilted my head, refusing to back down. "I know enough."

His jaw ticked. "And you think this is funny? That people are whispering about me like I'm some kind of joke?"

"Isn't it?" I said, shrugging like this wasn't a potential death sentence. "I mean, it was always you looking down on everyone else. Always the one throwing punches first, making sure no one ever dared question you. And now? Now, it's your name in their mouths. Your reputation on the line. How does it feel?"

Dante moved before I even registered it. One second, he was standing still, the next, my back hit the desk behind me, his hand gripping the front of my uniform. Not choking me—yet—but enough pressure to remind me he could if he wanted to.

My breath hitched. His eyes weren't just angry—they were calculating.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" His voice was quiet, but there was weight behind it. A warning wrapped in something almost… entertained.

I swallowed, but I didn't let my expression falter. "Oh, I know I am."

His head tilted slightly, studying me in a way that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was that same look a cat gives a bird before deciding if it's worth pouncing.

Then, without warning—

CRASH.

His hand shot out, and the desk next to me flipped onto its side with a deafening slam, sending books and papers scattering across the floor.

I flinched, barely keeping myself from stumbling back. Not because I was scared. No. Definitely not. Just… startled. That's all.

Dante didn't touch me. But that was the whole point, wasn't it?

A message.

A promise.

He took a step forward, forcing me back instinctively until my heels hit the chair behind me.

"See, Elias." He said, voice still too calm, too smooth."There's a difference between us."

Another step.

I gripped the back of my chair, my knuckles white. "Yeah? And what's that?"

He leaned in, just enough that I could feel the heat of his presence, his words ghosting over my ear.

"You run your mouth."

His hand lifted slowly—and then SLAM—landed on my desk beside me, fingers splayed.

"I do something about it."

My breath caught.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The classroom was empty now. No witnesses. No one to stop whatever might happen next.

His grip tightened, and for a split second, I thought, Okay, maybe I did push too far this time.

But then—

"That's enough."

A sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Both of us turned toward the door, where a figure stood, arms crossed, eyes locked onto us with unwavering authority. The entire room seemed to shrink under his presence.

Professor Voss.

His gaze flicked to Dante first. "Unless you'd like to explain to the Headmaster why you're strangling a classmate, I suggest you let go."

Dante didn't move immediately, but after a beat, his fingers uncurled, and I stumbled slightly as he released me.

Voss turned his piercing stare to me next. "And you—"

I swallowed. "Yes, Professor?"

His smirk was barely there, but the amusement in his eyes sent a chill down my spine. "You really enjoy dancing with fire, don't you?"

I forced a grin. "I like to keep things interesting."

Voss huffed a quiet laugh before his expression turned serious again. "Enough wasting time. Both of you, come with me. Now."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, my body stiff with the tension of something that had come way too close to turning into a hospital visit.

I exhaled, shaking my head.

Well.

That could've gone worse.

Right?

And just like that, whatever small victory I thought I'd won vanished.

Because something told me—whatever was coming next?

It wasn't going to be fun.