LUNA'S POV
I was on the hunt for that Scars and Shadows whatever-it's-called book, mumbling something about "socio-environmental trauma" like I even knew what that meant, when I suddenly felt... a presence.
You know that sixth sense you get when someone too attractive is standing nearby? Yeah. That.
I turned my head, and there he was - a few feet away, looking for a book like he was auditioning for a scholarly cologne commercial. Hardin. Mr. Corporate Casual.
I don't remember the part where I drifted over to him - And then I was... standing beside him.
He looked down at me, face blank - like, stone tablet blank. Not even a flicker of emotion. It was giving statue vibes. Historic. Intense. Terrifying.
"H-Hey! You know... words are like people… some of them exist for no reason and still won't shut up." I blurted.
I don't know. My mouth was possessed.
And then... he smirked.
That smirk.
The kind only an alpha male in a teen drama could pull off without getting punched.
And in that exact moment, I could feel my legs melt.
Like actual jelly.
He didn't say anything at first. Just closed the book he'd been holding - slowly, like he had all the time in the world and a personal soundtrack playing in his head.
Then he looked at me again, eyes so sharp I half expected them to scan me like a barcode.
"How may I help you?" he finally asked,
Urgh! That voice.
Deep, smooth, and annoyingly magnetic. The kind of voice that could sell cologne in a black-and-white ad while casually breaking hearts.
I panicked. One glance around and I was met with deathglares from every direction - girls clutching their books upside-down like weapons of war, eyes burning holes through me.
"To... acquire knowledge," I said turning back to him.
To acquire knowledge?!
WHAT?! Who even talks like that? Was I applying to be the town wizard?
He raised an eyebrow. "Right. And what sort of knowledge are you acquiring?"
I held up a random book I didn't even read the title of. "This," I said, confidently. It was upside down.
There was a pause.
Then - again - that smirk. Like he knew exactly how unprepared I was for his presence. And possibly for life in general.
"You know that's a cookbook, right?" he said, casually.
I looked down.
It was 'The Essential Guide to Middle-Eastern Cuisine.'
Oh my God.
"Oh," I said, trying to recover. "For... emotional flavor, you know..."
Why can't I stop talking?!
But Hardin didn't laugh. He just watched me like I was the most fascinating social experiment he'd ever seen. Then, in a tone so annoyingly calm, he added,"You talk a lot for someone who clearly doesn't think much."
"I'll take that as a compliment," I said, despite not knowing if it was.
"You should," he replied.
And just when I was starting to wonder if I was, in fact, surviving this interaction - I heard footsteps.
Fast.
Like thunder.
Like emotional chaos wearing Converse.
Steven.
I didn't even have to turn around. His presence came crashing in like a tidal wave of protectiveness and poorly-disguised rage. The kind of energy that said, "Get your hands off the red button before something explodes."
Hardin looked past me then, his face unreadable.
"Hardin," Steven muttered - voice flat enough to sand drywall.
I turned, caught awkwardly in the Bermuda Triangle of smirks, storms, and a spicy cookbook.
"This is totally normal," I blurted, throwing out jazz hands like I was auditioning for Deflecting Disasters: The Musical. "Just me... acquiring knowledge. And, uh, Middle-Eastern spices."
No one laughed.
Cool.
Steven didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stood there - completely still, like even his breath was angry.
Then Hardin chuckled. HE CHUCKLED!
"Don't keep your guy waiting," he said, eyes sliding back to me like he knew exactly what kind of chaos he'd just detonated.
My guy?
The word slapped me harder than my own clumsiness ever had. And the worst part? I didn't like it. I didn't like the idea of Hardin thinking Steven and I were a thing. Not because it was bad. But because... it wasn't true. I don't even know why I cared.
"No, no, no!" I blurted, way too fast. "We're-"
"Yes, Luna," Steven cut in, voice sharp and cold. "Don't keep your boyfriend waiting."
Before I could even process that emotional whip to the face, his hand locked around mine.
And then he was storming off - dragging me with him.
Hardin just stood there, behind us, chuckling like a smug villain in a perfectly pressed shirt.
We. Are. Not. Dating.
For God's sake.
As soon as we got outside, I yanked my hand out of his grip.
"What the hell, Steven?" I snapped, turning on him.
"I've warned you, Luna. That guy's a red flag."
"You're just assuming things, Steven," I shot back. "He looks like a nice guy."
Steven stared at me like I'd just confessed to joining a cult.
"A nice guy?" His voice rose, disbelief dripping from every syllable. "He literally said you talked too much for someone who clearly didn't think much."
And that's when it hit me.
Oh.
That's what he meant back there.
The audacity.
Still, I tried to brush it off. "It was just a... polite way of saying I'm not exactly a genius. Which, by the way, I already know - and I'm working on it."
Steven threw his hands up. "You're unbelievable, Luna."
And I lost it.
"Hey! Don't you ever raise your voice at me, Steven. I'm not your dog."
He froze, jaw clenched. Then ran a hand over his hair, frustrated.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, voice lower now, more grounded. "I didn't mean to yell."
My anger softened at the sight of his regret. I sighed, gave him a small smile, and reached for his hand again.
Then, with a grin, I tugged him forward and started skipping ahead like nothing had happened - dragging my emotionally overloaded best friend along behind me.
Because that's what I do.
Make chaos look whimsical.
**************************************
HARDIN'S POV
I watched the two romcom lovers storm off and let out a low, mocking laugh behind them. Pathetic.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID - Leon.
With a sigh, I slipped the book back onto the shelf and stepped outside, already answering.
"Hey, Boss," I said, lazily.
"Briggs, report to my office. Now," he snapped.
"But I'm at-"
"No excuses. Ten minutes."
The line went dead before I could answer.
I exhaled sharply, shoving the phone into my pocket.
Typical Leon.
I strode back, casually. Closed my laptop, slung my bag over one shoulder, and headed out.
Let the storm wait.
***
The compound stretched wide, shadows bleeding into corners like secrets that never stayed buried. ONYX didn't play dress-up with their halls - matte black doors, steel-gray walls, no windows. Just power, stripped of aesthetics.
At the top floor, two guards stood by the double doors. Both armed. Both barely out of breath - unlike the recruits who ran drills till their lungs bled.
"Briggs," one of them said with a stiff nod.
I didn't respond-didn't have to. Just pushed through the doors.
Leon sat behind his desk, his fingers laced under his chin, his expression unreadable - which, for him, meant pissed.
"Seven minutes," I said casually, dropping into the chair across from him without being asked.
His eye twitched as he leaned back. "You think I call you in because I enjoy your company?"
"Don't have a choice," I muttered, inspecting my glove for a tear.
He ignored the jab. "There's a new assignment. High-value target. Politically tied. Dirty hands, deeper pockets."
"Name?"