Okay, what was that?"
Isla spun around the moment they stepped out of the lecture hall, eyes wide, voice a sharp whisper. "Amara. That man hated you on sight."
Amara slipped her sunglasses back on. "Correction: he hated everyone. I just gave him the chance to show it."
They walked across campus, golden sun pouring down like it had no idea how weird the day was. Students passed, laughing, chatting, alive in ways that didn't touch her.
"Professor Vale," Isla muttered. "Ugh. He didn't even blink. I swear he's a serial killer."
"He's… something," Amara said slowly.
Isla paused. "Wait. You're not attracted to him, are you?"
Amara snorted. "Please. He gives off crypt-keeper energy."
But she was thinking about him.
And not because of the way he looked — although that was a whole other problem. No, it was something deeper. Something colder. A pull in her chest she couldn't explain.
And the way he said her name. Like it hurt him to say it.
They reached the parking lot. Amara's car — a black convertible she drove more for aesthetics than necessity — was already unlocked. She slid into the driver's seat, tossing her bag into the back.
Isla leaned over the door. "So are we going to talk about how weirdly still he was?"
"Maybe he's ex-military," Amara offered.
"Or a vampire."
She rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"
"Hey, weirder things have happened. You know about that professor who kept a human skull in his office—?"
Before she could finish, a familiar voice cut in from behind.
"You were late. Again."
Amara groaned and turned to see Nico Sterling leaning against his motorcycle, arms folded across his chest. Sharp jaw, cool stare, Sterling family eyes — piercing and pale. Everything about him screamed control.
And irritation.
"I wasn't late," Amara said. "I was fashionably delayed."
Nico didn't smile. "Fashionably expelled is next."
Isla snickered and backed away. "I'm gonna let you two siblings flirt—I mean, fight—in peace."
Amara glared. "She's not funny."
"She's not wrong either," Nico said, walking up to her side of the car. "What happened in class?"
"Nothing," she said too fast.
His brows lifted. "Amara."
She sighed. "Okay, fine. He humiliated me. In front of everyone. He made it weird. Said my name like I'd stabbed his dog or something."
Nico froze.
Amara caught it — the sudden stillness, the flicker of something he tried to hide. "What?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing."
"No. Don't do that. You always do that. You know something."
"It's probably just a coincidence."
"Nico."
He met her gaze. There was a storm behind his eyes.
"I don't think that man is who he says he is."
Back inside his office, Lucian Vale stood by the window, staring out over the courtyard below.
She was still the same.
Different name, different face — but the same laugh. The same fire.
And this time, she was surrounded by more danger than ever.
He reached up and traced the old scar along his collarbone — the mark that never healed, never faded.
The price of defying a witch.
"She's back," he said aloud.
Behind him, the door opened without a knock.
Soren Malric stepped inside. Dressed in a charcoal coat, his silver eyes calm, calculated. A man who had survived empires.
"She's not just back," Soren said quietly. "She's already started to feel it."
Lucian's jaw clenched. "Then we're out of time."