Soren pov:
People always assumed the Kings were born out of boredom.
Rich boys with too much money, too much time, too much reputation to stain.
But the truth was simpler:
We ruled because someone had to.
And if we didn't, the rival school across the river—Ravenwood—would.
So when Cassian sent a clipped message into the group chat—
Meet. Urgent. Ravenwood pulled something.
—I already knew the night was going to be a long one.
I arrived at the pub first, because I always did.
Reuben showed up next, humming under his breath like a psychopath as he wiped blood off his knuckles.
Cassian came in calm but tense, eyes sharp, jaw set.
Elio was last.
He looked pissed.
He kept checking his phone, his foot tapping under the table.
He smelled like he'd been out—fresh air, engine heat, Zara's scent faint on his hoodie.
That made my blood boil.
He didn't know it, but I'd seen them twice this week.
Late at night.
The boxing ring.
Her in oversized shirts and leggings, him walking close, her smiling—the soft kind of smile she didn't give anybody else.
He didn't know I'd been in the shadows of the hallway once, watching her leave her dorm.
He didn't know she paused as if she sensed something.
He didn't know I'd seen her first.
He didn't know that the first time I looked at her in Saint Monarch, the whole world had gone silent for a full second.
Her fear should've pushed me away.
Instead, it lodged itself in my bloodstream.
So when the boys began talking—Ravenwood vandalizing our property, someone messing with our fighters, threats about an upcoming tournament—I barely listened.
I caught snippets.
Cassian snapping, "We can't let them get away with it."
Reuben laughing like he was begging for a fight.
Elio rubbing his forehead, distracted, impatient, muttering, "Can we wrap this up? I have to—"
And then something shifted.
A ripple in the room.
I looked up—
—and there she was.
Zara.
Small. Quiet. Wide-eyed like she'd walked into the lion's den on accident.
Dressed in that simple white top and earth-toned skirt that should've made her look ordinary.
Except nothing about her was ordinary.
She froze when she saw me.
I saw the moment recognition hit her—the way her breath stuttered, the way her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, the way she slowly began to step backwards.
My pulse kicked.
Fear.
Real fear.
Directed at me.
Most people feared me because of my name.
Because of the Kings.
Because of what we'd done in the shadows of this city.
But her fear was personal.
Familiar.
Old.
And it tasted different.
My lips curled before I could stop them.
I smirked.
Because the moment her eyes locked on mine…
I knew she remembered.
She did a quiet, subtle turn, trying to blend into the bodies, trying to vanish.
I pushed back from the booth.
Cassian's voice cut through—"Soren? Where the hell are you going—?"
But it didn't matter.
My eyes were on her.
Her braid brushing her back as she slipped between tables.
Her breath catching when I moved.
Hunting was always the best part.
I walked slowly, letting her think she was disappearing.
Letting her hope she'd gotten away.
Then I caught her outside, right when she stepped into the cooler air.
She didn't even hear me behind her until I said:
"Running again?"
She stiffened.
Her shoulders rose.
Then she turned—slowly—like each second was a battle.
Her eyes met mine.
Up close, they were worse.
Wide. Dark. Haunted.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
I stepped closer.
Too close.
Her back hit the stone wall behind her.
Her breath quickened.
Her fingers shook.
But she didn't cry.
She didn't collapse.
There was fear, yes—
—but also a quiet stubbornness.
A bite in her gaze.
A spark that didn't match the trembling.
And my chest tightened at the contradiction.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered.
"Funny," I murmured. "I was about to tell you the same thing."
I lifted a hand—slowly—just to see her reaction.
She flinched.
Her heartbeat was loud enough that I heard it.
But then…
Then something insane happened.
She didn't shrink further.
She didn't look away.
Instead, she stared back.
Like she was forcing herself to stay present.
Like she wasn't going to let me drag her back into whatever memory made her freeze in the first place.
Her breathing steadied.
Her spine straightened an inch.
Resilience.
I felt it hit me like a knife to the ribs.
My fingers brushed the side of her jaw—featherlight.
Her knees wobbled.
Her breath hitched.
Her eyes went glassy.
And I swear—SWORE—her body leaned the tiniest fraction toward my touch.
That was the moment something twisted low in my gut.
Then—
"Elio?!"
Her head snapped toward the voice.
Elio's voice.
Sharp. Panicked. Too close.
Her entire body jolted back into reality.
She shoved my chest—weak but frantic—slipped under my arm, and practically ran toward him.
She didn't even look back.
I stayed in the shadow of the wall, watching.
Elio reached her first, grabbing her shoulders gently, asking if she was okay.
His voice trembled.
He wrapped his hoodie around her like he'd been waiting outside long enough to get worried sick.
She clung to it.
She clung to him.
And that—
that was the part that made something violent coil inside me.
She hugged him before getting into the car.
He hugged her back.
My jaw flexed.
Elio didn't see me.
He didn't see the rage sitting under my skin.
Didn't see the imprint of her warmth still on my hand.
Didn't see the way she shook when she touched him—because of me.
He got into the car.
Zara looked back once—briefly—toward the pub.
Not at me.
But close enough.
Then the car drove off.
The street went quiet again.
I stayed there a long moment. Breathing. Grinding my teeth.
She remembered me.
She feared me.
She still reacted to me.
And that?
That shouldn't have made me feel what I felt.
I walked back inside.
Reuben raised a brow.
Cassian smirked like he knew something.
Elio's empty chair sat beside mine.
They resumed talking about Ravenwood.
I didn't hear a single word.
Because the storm under my ribs had already begun.
And I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Zara was not leaving my head anytime soon.