Tuesday – 10:45 AM – Period 3: Chemistry Lab
St. Helena's Chemistry Lab was basically a bomb waiting to happen.
Beakers. Bunsen burners. High schoolers with no real supervision. It was a miracle the place still had four walls.
Today, the experiment involved something simple—creating a reaction with hydrochloric acid and magnesium strips.
But with Vincent and Adriana in the same lab group?
Nothing was ever simple.
"Okay," Vincent said, reading from the lab manual, "add the strip to the beaker and record the gas released."
Adriana tilted her head. "What if I just dropped it in without gloves?"
"You'll burn your skin."
She smirked. "What if I want to see what it feels like?"
He didn't even blink. "Then we'll get matching bandages and call it edgy."
She stared.
Then laughed.
Across the room, Leo and Rafi—posing as "student aides" today—pretended to clean test tubes while really watching the windows for snipers.
Because, as it turned out, there'd been a tipoff from Alex.
Threat Level: Medium
Possible assassination attempt.
Vincent had no idea.
He just kept swirling acid like it was a lemonade stand.
11:03 AM - Still in Chemistry
"Hey, Vinnie," Adriana whispered, eyes still on the flame under their beaker.
He raised a brow. "You've never called me that before."
"Trying it out. See if it fits."
"And?"
"Not bad. Like a dog that bites."
He snorted.
She added: "Don't ever let Kael talk to you like that again. He's weak."
"Strong arms, weak spine. Got it."
Then—without warning—boom.
A small explosion from the next table.
Someone screamed.
Mina Vega stumbled backward, face covered in foam and glitter. "I was making bath bombs! Who switched my sodium bicarbonate!?"
Adriana blinked. "You brought DIY spa ingredients to chemistry?"
"I was multitasking!"
Rafi stifled a laugh.
Leo didn't.
Vincent leaned toward Adriana. "This school is wild."
She whispered, "This school's the least crazy thing in my life right now."
-
11:50 AM – Passing Period
They walked side by side through the halls—him with his hoodie and ink-stained fingers, her with a trench coat too expensive for a teenager.
"Why do you even come here?" he asked suddenly.
"St. Helena?"
"Yeah. I mean, your family clearly doesn't need diplomas."
Adriana shrugged. "My father wanted me to learn restraint."
"Restraint."
"Yes. Like… not setting a classroom on fire when someone annoys you."
Vincent paused. "Has that happened before?"
"No comment."
Then she added, "And maybe I like it here. Maybe I like pretending I'm normal for six hours a day."
He glanced at her. "Is that what I am? Your six-hour normal?"
She didn't answer.
But her hand brushed his.
Just once.
And that was enough.
-
Lunch: Courtyard Tables
Vincent had just taken a bite of cafeteria pizza (questionable meat, probably rubber cheese) when Zara Karim plopped down next to him.
Zara, queen of sarcasm. Big, curly hair. Big opinions. Big everything.
"So," she said, biting into an apple. "What's it like fake-dating a certified warlord?"
Vincent tried not to choke. "Excuse me?"
"Adriana Bogdan. Looks like a goddess, fights like a Navy SEAL. The whole school thinks you're either possessed or suicidal."
He sighed. "Why does everyone assume she's dangerous?"
"Because she is dangerous. I mean that affectionately. I've seen her crush a phone with one hand because someone sent her a clown GIF."
Vincent blinked.
"That tracks," he muttered.
Zara smirked. "Just don't let her break your heart, Banks. You've got one of the few decent ones in this place."
Before he could reply, Adriana appeared.
And just… looked at Zara.
Zara raised her hands. "Relax. I wasn't flirting with your murder boyfriend."
"I don't get jealous," Adriana said coolly. "I get even."
Zara laughed, unfazed. "I like her. She's insane."
-
Study Hall (aka Mafia Hour)
Adriana had commandeered an entire corner of the library. No one else dared sit there.
Vincent sat across from her as she went through pages of notes in Romanian, Latin, and what looked suspiciously like tactical blueprints.
"You're planning something," he said.
"Always."
"Does it involve me dying?"
She smiled. "Unclear. Depends on how annoying you are in the next forty-eight hours."
He smiled back. "So… yes."
Then her expression shifted.
She folded the page, slid it into a manila envelope, and tucked it into her leather backpack.
"Tomorrow," she said, "we meet Bishop."
Vincent froze. "I thought that was weeks away."
"It was. Plans changed."
"Why?"
"Because Bishop's been watching you, Vincent."
-
After School – 4:30 PM
Leo and Rafi escorted Adriana and Vincent through the back gates of campus, where a sleek black car waited.
Driver tinted. Engine silent.
Vincent stepped in and stared at the interior like he'd just entered a Bond film.
Leather seats. Hidden gun slots. A mini fridge.
Adriana sat beside him, cross-legged, calm.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To see someone who knows Bishop," she said. "An informant. Former arms dealer. Now a guidance counselor."
He blinked. "Wait, what?"
She deadpanned, "It's a long story."
Underground Bookstore, District 4
The "guidance counselor" turned out to be an elderly woman named Marianne, with steel-gray hair and a British accent sharper than a scalpel.
She ran a bookstore that specialized in banned books and black market ledgers.
"I always knew you'd bring someone home one day," Marianne said to Adriana, eyeing Vincent. "Didn't think he'd be so... soft."
"I'm not soft," Vincent muttered.
"Yet," she said. "We'll work on that."
Adriana rolled her eyes. "Marianne, we need the Bishop files. The ones from 2008."
The woman's smile vanished.
She turned, walked to the back, and returned with a metal case.
"Locked," she said. "Your father never wanted it opened again."
"I'm not my father."
"I know."
Marianne handed it over. "But be warned. That file… it doesn't just have Bishop's crimes. It has our family's history with him. Everything Alex buried."
Adriana didn't flinch.
Vincent watched her. "Are you sure?"
She nodded.
And whispered, "I need to know the truth. Before the past kills us first."
-
Rooftop of Adriana's Building
The night wind was sharp. The stars looked fake.
Vincent and Adriana sat side by side, her head on his shoulder, his hand still tingling from when she'd accidentally grabbed it during the car ride.
"I think I trust you," she said softly.
He turned to her. "You only think?"
"I don't trust easily."
"I've noticed."
"I don't know what this is, Vincent. Us. You and me. But it's getting harder to fake."
He touched her cheek.
Then, for the first time, he kissed her.
It wasn't explosive.
It was slow.
Sure.
Deliberate.
Like a promise sealed in quiet defiance of everything waiting to destroy them.
When they pulled apart, she didn't smile.
She just whispered, "If you stay… things will get bloody."
Vincent laced their fingers together.
"I'm already in."
-
Abandoned Church, District 9
Bishop held a photo of the rooftop.
Adriana. Vincent. Their kiss.
He smirked.
"Kill the boy," he told his man.
"But sir, she'll come after—"
"I want her to come."
He pinned the photo next to a tattered picture of Alex Bogdan.
"And this time… I'll bury the both of them."