2 Years Ago – Bucharest, Romania
It was winter when Bishop burned the house down.
Adriana stood in the street, snow falling softly around her, while flames chewed through the orphanage's wooden bones. She didn't cry. Not even when the roof collapsed.
Leo stood beside her, a fresh cut on his cheek.
Malik was behind them, arms wrapped around himself, mumbling a prayer that made no sense.
And Bishop?
Bishop walked out of the fire with a smile.
"You don't save what's already broken," he said. "You cleanse it."
Adriana looked him in the eye.
Even then, she'd known he was wrong.
But she'd also known she'd follow him anyway.
Until she didn't.
Present Day – St. Helena's Academy, Friday Morning
Vincent had exactly two classes with Adriana: Advanced History and British Literature. He'd sat next to her for three weeks and learned exactly three things:
She never answered roll call.
She never asked questions.
She always had blood under her fingernails, no matter how polished her manicure looked.
Today, something was different.
She was early.
She was reading.
Vincent slid into the seat beside her. "You okay?"
Adriana didn't look up. "Define 'okay.'"
"Not planning to murder anyone during lunch?"
"That's a firm maybe."
He smiled a little. She didn't.
"They defaced my car, Vincent."
"I know."
"They left his name."
"I know that too."
"I don't want to care," she said, voice quieter now. "But I do. And that pisses me off."
He watched her twist the ribbon around her wrist—again and again and again.
"You think it's Bishop?" he asked.
She paused.
"I think Bishop's too smart to use someone else's name. Which means someone wants me to think it's him."
"Why?"
She finally looked at him. Her eyes were colder than he'd ever seen.
"Because someone wants me distracted."
10:45 AM – Chemistry Lab
"Miss Bogdan, what are you doing with the magnesium strip?" asked Mr. Fowler warily.
"Watching it burn."
"That was last week's experiment."
"Then I'm reviewing."
Before the teacher could respond, Adriana dropped the lit strip into the beaker. It flared up—white hot—and a table of girls squealed behind her.
Mr. Fowler flinched. "Miss Bogdan—!"
"I'm helping the class remember," she said coolly. "We wouldn't want any of them failing their tests."
Vincent, from across the room, just covered his smile with a cough.
Adriana turned, caught his grin—and for a split second, she almost smiled back.
Almost.
Then her phone buzzed.
She checked it and froze.
Text from Unknown Number
'Did he scream like that when the fire started?'
– B
She didn't react.
Just stood. Packed her things.
And walked out.
Lunch – Courtyard
Adriana didn't speak during lunch. She just sat at the stone bench under the old tree, staring ahead, the wind teasing her braid.
Vincent sat across from her again—an apple in one hand, a geometry book in the other. "So… B for Bishop?"
Adriana didn't respond.
She finally looked up. "I never told anyone how the fire started."
"Which fire?"
"The one in Romania. The orphanage." She clenched her jaw. "He sent that message because he knew. He was there."
Vincent leaned forward. "Then he survived."
"Worse," she whispered. "He watched."
A pause. Then:
"I'm not the only monster from that fire, Vincent."
Detention Room, 4:15 PM
"Let me get this straight," Noel muttered. "You got detention for walking out of class, and instead of skipping detention… you came?"
Adriana raised an eyebrow. "It was either this or hand-to-hand combat drills."
Vincent raised a hand from the corner. "Hi. Also here for walking out of class."
Noel glanced between them. "You guys are making skipping look real romantic."
Ms. Langley, the drama teacher overseeing detention, glared at them. "Less flirting, more silence."
Adriana leaned over her desk toward Vincent. "How good are you at drama?"
"Depends."
"You feel like pretending to be my boyfriend for exactly two hours tomorrow?"
Vincent blinked. "What?"
She smirked. "There's a charity gala. My father's dragging me there. I need a plus-one. You'll wear a suit. I'll wear a dagger. We'll be the cutest threat in the room."
Vincent blinked again. "Is that… a yes or a threat?"
"Both."
Noel groaned. "God, this is going to end with someone's body in a fountain."
Adriana winked. "Hopefully not mine."
Flashback – 1 Year Ago
The alley smelled like blood and motor oil.
Adriana gripped the knife in her hand and stared at Bishop, whose hands were still warm from the fight.
"I'm done," she whispered.
Bishop tilted his head. "You're not."
"I am."
"You think you can walk away? From me?"
Adriana lifted her chin.
"I'm not scared of you anymore."
Bishop smiled.
Then slapped her.
Hard.
She didn't fall.
Didn't cry.
She just looked him in the eye and said, "I will burn your name to ash."
Present – St. Helena's Academy, After Detention
Vincent was walking out the back stairwell when he saw it.
Another bouquet.
Not in her locker this time.
In his.
Black lilies.
One word scrawled on the card:
TRAITOR.
He turned—and saw her.
Adriana.
Already staring.
Already knowing.
Already angry.
Because in her world?
Being seen with her meant being marked.
And now?
Vincent Banks had just become a target.