Elias was there.
He sat near the back, sprawled casually in his chair.
His dark hair fell into his eyes in lazy waves, shadows shifting across his sharp jawline. He didn't look at me, not right away.
But when he did, his once unreadable expression twisted into a glare, cold and unflinching.
It was a look filled with both hatred and loathing, aimed right at me. Pure unfiltered hatred.
I swallowed hard and forced my feet to move. Every step toward the empty seat two rows ahead of him felt like walking through a spotlight. I could feel his eyes burning into me, weighing me down.
So I lifted my chin and glared right back.
If he wanted a war of stares, fine. I wasn't going to shrink under him.
I sat, setting my bag down with too much force.
"Maeve!" Ronan's voice rang out, not caring about the supervising professor.
