Who Touched What's Mine

The third bell rang and Lucien was nowhere.

I'd been pacing between lockers like a stray spark with no flame to burn. Something about today itched under my skin. I'd seen him every day since term started, either buried in a book or acting like the floor had more personality than I did.

But today?

Gone.

It wasn't like I missed him, not exactly. I just didn't like when something I wanted disappeared without asking me first.

I leaned against the girls' bathroom sink, glaring at my reflection like she owed me answers. "Where are you hiding, Gray?"

Rumors started trickling in before fourth period. Two girls whispering near the stairwell mentioned seeing Lucien down in the art wing.

"He's with Vanessa," one said. "She was, like, touching his hoodie and everything."

My spine stiffened.

Touching?

I didn't waste time. I cut through the English hall, ignoring teachers calling my name, and headed to the art corridor. My boots echoed on the waxed tiles like warnings.

I saw them before they saw me.

Lucien stood leaning against the brick wall by the vending machine. His head was tilted, expression unreadable. That signature quiet posture like he belonged to a different world.

And she was there.

Vanessa Blair. Queen of fake affection. Hair slicked and lip gloss gleaming. She leaned into him too close, fingers grazing his sleeve like she had rights.

She laughed at something. His mouth didn't move, but he didn't shove her off either. Her hand slipped up toward his neck.

I stood there for a full five seconds.

Then I walked over, slow and steady.

"Look who's playing pretend," I said, voice calm as broken glass.

Vanessa turned, her eyes wide then narrowed. She smirked.

"Oh. You again."

"Me always," I replied.

Lucien finally looked at me. No surprise in his eyes. Just calm. As if he expected this. As if he wanted it.

"Gray," I said, keeping my eyes locked on his, "you okay, or did a plastic leech attach itself without consent?"

Vanessa's jaw tensed. "Excuse me?"

"I don't speak twice for fake people."

Vanessa laughed once. "You know what your problem is, Aria? You think you're some dark, edgy storm, but really? You're just a girl with no impulse control and way too much eyeliner."

I smiled. "Better than a girl with no self-respect and too much concealer."

Vanessa's grin dropped.

She stepped forward and pushed me.

Wrong move.

I flew forward, slamming her back into the lockers. Metal groaned. Her friends screamed.

Fingers caught in hair. Elbows thrown. I wasn't fighting to win. I was fighting to destroy.

"You don't get to touch what I want," I growled in her ear.

"You're insane!" she shrieked.

"Say that again," I snapped, dragging her back by the collar.

Two of her backup girls tried to pull me off. I elbowed one, stepped on another's foot, then yanked Vanessa's necklace until it snapped.

Lucien didn't move.

He watched.

His eyes burned into me like coals, quiet and dangerous. He didn't speak. Didn't interfere. Just watched, jaw tight, fists at his sides.

By the time a teacher finally broke it up, Vanessa's makeup was ruined and her pride was bleeding harder than her lip.

"Are you proud of yourself?" The counselor leaned across the desk.

I crossed my arms. "That depends. Is she in a coma?"

"Aria."

"I'm not sorry. She put her hands on me first."

"You attacked three students."

"I ended a misunderstanding."

She sighed. "You're suspended for three days. Go home. Now."

I stood. No apology. No shame. Just fire in my veins and her perfume still stuck to my hands.

At home, the house was warm. Safe. My little brother sat on the couch eating cereal with a fork.

"You're early," he mumbled.

"Got kicked out."

"Again?"

"Self-defense."

He looked at me. "Did he see it?"

"Lucien?"

My silence was the answer.

He shook his head. "You're crazy about him."

I grabbed a slice of bread and sat beside him. "Maybe. Maybe I just like the way he doesn't give a damn until I force him to."

"Same difference."

He turned back to the screen, but I could tell he was smiling. He always smiled when I talked about Lucien like that, like I was some villain in a cartoon.

But I wasn't the villain.

I was just a girl who knew what she wanted. And when I wanted something. I chased it.

Even if it ran.

Especially if it ran.

That night, as I lay in bed, the silence buzzed.

There was a new text on my phone. No contact. Just a number I didn't recognize.

Next time, don't wait. Take the first shot.

I didn't need a name.

Lucien Gray was watching.

And now? He was warning back.

I smiled into the dark.

Let the games begin.

I hope he plays rough.

Lucien's POV

He walked into a mansion that didn't feel like a home. Just space. Just rooms. Marble floors and echoing silence.

A note was on the foyer table:

Gone for the Dubai deal. Back in two weeks.

You'll manage. Again.

Mom.

His father wasn't a note person. He stood by the fireplace, suitcase open, talking to his assistant over the phone.

"Lucien," his father said without looking. "Your grades are good. We've arranged your enlistment date."

"I know."

"After graduation, you report straight to the base. We've discussed this."

Lucien didn't argue. He stopped arguing two years ago.

"You'll need to cut your hair," his father added. "And stop with the dark clothes. It's not a fashion show there."

Lucien nodded.

His father finally glanced at him. "You'll do this right. This family has no space for rebellion."

Lucien's jaw clenched. "I never asked to be in this family."

His father's eyes narrowed. "Don't make me regret trusting you."

Lucien turned and walked away.

Upstairs, his room was the only space that felt remotely like his.

He dropped his bag. Tossed his hoodie on the chair. Took off his shirt.

A faint scratch marked the edge of his collarbone. He touched it.

From the fight.

From her.

Aria.

He stared at the mark in the mirror. Not angry. Not shocked.

Just... curious.

She was the kind of girl that started fires just to see who would burn. And he'd been cold too long.

Maybe it was time,he will how long she will keep playing with fire 🔥