Chapter Twenty-four: The Mysterious Teacher

So…

She was definitely in deep shit.

The new teacher was none other than James Azal, her mentor, her father’s right-hand man. And now—her freaking maths teacher.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a cold, pale glare over the classroom as Myra sat frozen in her seat. Her stomach twisted.

Of all people, why him?

Why now?

She could almost smell the familiar trace of sandalwood and oranges that clung to him, even through the sterile school air. It made her skin crawl. Not out of fear—out of dread.

Was he here to drag her back to the mansion? Or worse—Rome.

Her breath hitched. How did they even find her?

Her jaw tightened. She bit the inside of her cheek, the sharp sting grounding her. Her pencil tapped rapidly against the desk, a frantic rhythm betraying her calm facade.

Her brown eyes stayed locked on him—watching, waiting. He stood at the whiteboard, scribbling equations in smooth, practiced strokes. Like he was just another overqualified teacher, not the ghost of her past come to ruin her present.

He didn’t even look at her. Not once. Not even a flicker of recognition.

But she knew better. This was just the eye of the storm. The storm that was about to drag her back to a life she’d fought to escape. The so called protection that made her a prisoner in her own home.

When the bell rang, it was like a jolt to the system. Chairs scraped, chatter erupted, and backpacks zipped. Myra grabbed her things in a blur, heart pounding in her chest like war drums.

Maybe—if she was fast enough—she could slip out without him noticing.

“Miss Thorn. Stay.”

His voice cut through the noise like a whip.

Everything stopped.

Conversations died.

Nathan turned sharply, his brows knitting together. Arielle froze mid-step, throwing her a wide-eyed look. Lisa had already dipped out.

King lingered at the door, curious, head tilted slightly like a cat watching something about to break.

“The rest of you, leave.”

A command, not a request. One that held a subtle treat.

The students filed out fast. Nathan hesitated. So did Arielle.

King met her eyes one last time before walking out.

And then—

Click.

The sound of the classroom door locking echoed through the now-empty room, sharp and final. Like a prison gate locking.

Myra didn’t dare look up. Her hands tightened around her notebook, nails digging into the cardboard. She could feel his gaze—the weight of it, heavy, unblinking. The air between them felt like iron, thick with unspoken tension.

“Raise your head.”

His voice was low, firm. No warmth. No room to argue.

Slowly, she looked up.

James stood with his arms folded across his chest, his tailored shirt stretched tight over muscle and command. His emerald green eyes, so familiar, bored into her with quiet fury.

Judgment was written all over his face.

She braced herself.

Because the scolding was coming.

“Three months,” James said, voice flat. “Three. Fucking. Months. And this is where I find you?”

His words didn’t rise in volume, but each syllable struck like a slap. Like she was some sort of idiot.

Myra kept her mouth shut, jaw tight. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears louder than his voice. He could hear it. Hear her fear.

“I had to pose as a teacher for this little stunt of yours.” He stepped forward, shoes clicking sharply on the tile. “Do you realize what kind of mess you've caused?”

She swallowed hard. “I'm not going back.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not your choice.”

“My life isn’t yours to dictate.” Her voice was sharper than she expected, but shaky underneath.

James took another step, now only a foot away. She could see the faint scar on his temple, the tight line of his jaw, and the way his fingers twitched—controlled fury barely restrained.

“You disappeared without a word. Left chaos behind. Do you think your father isn’t tearing half the world apart trying to find you?” she took a step back, “And you dared to take your sibling and cousin with you! So you know what could have happened! Our secrets could have been exposed! And don't get me started with Dra–”

“Dracula is no longer a threat to the Thorns” She interrupted, thinking this was enough to get her to stay. “And also I took care of myself and Ezra, Lisa is just fine.” her voice lower this time “I feel free here, lighter”

His gaze hardened.

“You think this—” he gestured to the classroom, the bright walls, human atmosphere— “is freedom? Running off to play pretend? You're not like them Myra”

“It’s better than being a puppet. Better than walking halls lined with gold while being treated like I’m made of glass.”

James didn’t flinch.

The silence stretched.

Only the ticking wall clock broke it, counting down to whatever came next.

“You’re making it worse for yourself,” he said quietly, tone suddenly less angry. “They’ll send others if I fail. Less familiar faces. Less patience.”

“Father wouldn't go that far” She stopped talking, remembering who her father really was, Thorns weren't kind hearted, they were ruthless especially her father. She bit her lower lip, lowering her head “I don't want to go back James”

As much as she hated it, she liked this place. She liked going to school, she liked the normal conversations with the others, nothing about scheming or bloodshed, and even she didn't want to admit it, she liked her fights with King.

And Ezra.. she had never seen her little brother so happy.

Her nails digged into her skin, “I saved the Thorn tribe, father shouldn't be doing this to me. To Ezra” Her head still lowered as she spoke. Here they felt different. Their shoulders lighter.

She felt James cup her cheeks, his thumb caressing her cheeks, slowly lifting her head to meet his eyes. “I am sorry Myra, This is for your own good”

___

Something was off.

The hallway stretched ahead of him, quiet now that most of the students had filtered out. King walked at an easy pace, but his mind was elsewhere. Myra.

The way her shoulders had tensed up when the new teacher spoke. The way she avoided eye contact. That wasn’t just a student annoyed by a strict class. That was fear.

His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening.

He didn’t like the way it felt—watching her shrink like that. Myra was fire. Spit and venom wrapped in silk. Not the kind of girl to cower like a kicked dog. Something was off.

He turned a corner and spotted Nathan leaning against a locker, scrolling on his phone like nothing had happened. Unlike Lisa and Arielle standing in front of the class looking like hell was about to break lose soon, Ezra, Myra's brother joined them too, his face pale.

“Yo,” King called out to Nathan.

Nathan looked up, groaning, and rolling his eyes.

“What?”

King didn’t waste time. “What’s going on with Myra?”

Nathan’s thumb froze mid-scroll. King observed him, his ffot lightly tapping in the floor, a sign of nervousness.

King stepped closer. “She looked like she saw a ghost. What’s with that teacher?”

Nathan shut his phone off and shoved it in his pocket. “It’s none of your business, man. Don't you have a class”

Deflecting.

King raised an eyebrow, voice steady but sharp. “Don’t play dumb. You saw her face. I don’t like how she looked.”

Nathan's jaw ticked. “And I don’t like you poking your nose in things that don’t concern you. King don't pry into her matters”

King laughed once—dry and humorless. “You think I’m blind? That man isn’t just a teacher. Who the hell is he?”

Nathan folded his arms. “I said drop it, King.”

But King didn’t.

Because now he was sure of it—Myra was in trouble. The sort of trouble that made all of them nervous wreaks, like Lucifer himself was about to erupt.

Which meant someone had to step in before shit got worse.

King shoved his hands into his pockets, stepping back. “Fine. I’ll find out myself.”

Nathan acted faster than he could comprehend, before he knew if his friend held him back and pushed him against the locker.

“This is a warning King. Stop.”