The night after the mixer, Blackridge University felt different to Anabeth—like the campus had shifted ever so slightly on its axis. As if one cold pair of eyes passing over her had tilted the world into a new alignment.
She told herself it was nothing.
A glance. A stranger. A rumor.
Yet her thoughts kept circling back to Damian Knight like moths around a blue flame they didn't understand.
She tried to brush it off the next morning as she dressed for her psychology lecture. Her roommate, Kara, sprawled across her bed scrolling on her phone with one eyebrow raised.
"You look distracted," Kara said, smirking. "Is it about mister tall-dark-and-freezing-souls from last night?"
Anabeth pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. "No. I just didn't sleep well."
"You never sleep well."
Fair enough.
But she wasn't going to unpack that.
Not the tossing and turning.
Not the way her mind kept replaying that split-second glance.
Not the strange, heavy feeling that he'd seen too much in too little time.
"He won't show up again," Kara said casually, as if reading her thoughts. "Guys like him only appear when something shady's happening."
"Comforting," Anabeth muttered.
Though she tried to laugh it off, a shiver ran quietly down her spine.
---
Her morning classes helped distract her, even if only slightly. She loved psychology—understanding people felt easier than understanding herself. And being in a room full of sleepy students scribbling notes was a comfortable kind of normal.
Still, every now and then, she found herself glancing toward the door, half-expecting a chilling silhouette to appear. It didn't.
But the feeling never fully left.
By the afternoon, students flooded campus walkways again, the sun warm and the atmosphere lively. Anabeth grabbed a drink from the café and settled outside under a tree with her laptop. She liked the openness of the courtyard—the way she could observe the world without being pulled into it.
She had barely typed a sentence when someone dropped into the seat beside her.
"Hey," said a cheerful voice.
She looked up. A guy—tall, light-brown hair, friendly smile, wearing a campus society hoodie. Definitely normal. Definitely safe.
"I'm Jace," he said. "I think we have psych together?"
Anabeth blinked. "Oh. Right. Hi."
He grinned wider, taking her shy tone as an invitation instead of a boundary. "We're doing a study group later tonight. You should come. Might make the class less painful."
"Psych isn't painful," she laughed softly.
"Ah, so you're one of the smart ones."
He talked easily, effortlessly—something she admired. She found herself relaxing despite her natural caution. His energy was warm. Normal.
She could use more normal in her life.
"I'll think about it," she said, smiling.
But before Jace could reply, his expression shifted. His shoulders stiffened, eyes darting past her.
"What the—" he muttered.
Anabeth turned slowly.
Damian stood across the courtyard.
Not walking. Not talking.
Just watching.
He was dressed in black again—dark jacket, darker hair, expression unreadable. Students around him moved like currents around a rock in the river they didn't want to touch. His presence changed the atmosphere like a cold front.
And his eyes…
They were fixed on her.
Not Jace.
Not the crowd.
Her.
Jace swallowed beside her. "Who is that guy? He looks like he eats people for breakfast."
Anabeth's throat felt tight. "Just…someone I saw last night."
Damian didn't approach. Didn't gesture. Didn't speak.
He simply held her gaze for a long, heavy moment.
Then he turned and walked away, his men falling into step behind him.
Jace exhaled. "Okay, note to self: avoid him."
Anabeth tried to steady her heartbeat. "He's harmless," she said before she could stop herself.
Jace raised a brow. "He looks like a warning sign with legs."
She couldn't deny that.
But something inside her whispered quietly:
He didn't look harmful.
He looked dangerous.
And danger wasn't the same as harm.
Not always.
---
Later that evening, after Jace left for the study group she hadn't committed to, Anabeth stayed in her dorm room battling her thoughts. Why had Damian been watching her? Coincidence? Curiosity? Something else?
She shouldn't care.
She didn't know him.
She didn't want to know him.
Yet something gnawed at her.
A soft knock interrupted her spiraling.
Kara peeked in. "Going to the library. Want to come?"
"Maybe later."
"Suit yourself," Kara said, grabbing her bag. "Don't let the mafia prince haunt your dreams."
"Ha. Very funny."
But once Kara left, silence flooded the room.
Silence always felt heavier when no one else was around to fill it.
She grabbed her jacket and stepped outside for air.
Campus at night was quieter, cozier. Lamps washed the walkways in soft gold, and a crisp breeze stirred the leaves. Students talked quietly in clusters, laughter echoing faintly.
She walked toward the science building—calm, peaceful. Her phone buzzed with a text from Jace: "Study group was fun. Next time?"
Anabeth smiled. Normal.
Then someone stepped into her path.
Her breath caught.
Damian.
Up close, he was taller than she remembered. Sharper. His presence pressed into the air like gravity.
She froze.
He didn't speak for a moment. Just studied her with that cold, calculating stare—as if cataloging details no one else noticed.
Finally he said, "You should not walk alone at night."
His voice was deep, smooth, controlled.
A warning disguised as advice.
Anabeth swallowed. "I wasn't planning to go far."
He didn't look convinced.
"You were being followed," Damian said.
Her blood chilled. "What?"
"By someone standing near the parking lot. He left when he saw me."
She stared at him, heart pounding.
"Why would someone follow me?"
Damian's jaw tightened slightly. "People notice vulnerability. You shouldn't let them."
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment—then irritation. "I'm not vulnerable."
His gaze flicked down her posture, then back up. "Yes. You are."
Anger sparked. "You don't know anything about me."
Another flicker of emotion crossed his eyes—too quick to identify.
"No," he said quietly. "But I know danger."
That silenced her.
For a moment, the world felt suspended—just her and him and the strange current between them.
"Why…why do you care?" she asked softly.
Damian stepped closer—not enough to touch, but enough to make her feel the cold radiating off him.
"I don't," he said.
But his next words betrayed that claim.
"I saw you. That is enough."
Her breath trembled.
He turned away then, leaving her in the golden glow of the lamps, her pulse racing, her mind spinning, and her world irrevocably—dangerously—shifted.
Because a man who felt nothing had just chosen to warn her.
And that meant something was beginning.
Something she wasn't ready for.
Something he didn't want.
Something neither of them could avoid.
---