Damien's steps slowed.
Across the corridor, just past the row of lockers where the sunlight broke in sharp angles against the tile, stood Victoria Langley.
Alone.
Her hair caught the light in a glossy braid, one hand resting casually against the edge of a bench like she'd simply paused mid-thought. But her eyes—those emerald-green eyes—were locked onto him.
Unblinking. Cool. Focused.
She didn't speak. Didn't gesture.
She didn't have to.
Damien's gaze lingered for a second longer, the faintest grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
'Well, well.'
He turned slightly toward the girls ahead of him, still deep in their wardrobe deconstruction.
Madeleine was mid-rant about peplum injustice. Chessa and Miri were offering counterexamples like it was a courtroom drama.
They wouldn't miss him.
Not really.
And Isabelle—walking just a few paces ahead of him—caught the shift in his step. Her eyes flicked to the side, sharp and perceptive as always.
He spoke before she could.
