The library was quiet at this hour.
Most students had fled to the dining hall or their dorms, leaving the stacks to the night owls and the desperate. Lucian sat at a table near the back, a stack of books in front of him that he wasn't reading. His mind was still in the briefing room, still on the recording, still on the three months ticking down like a heartbeat.
He heard her before he saw her.
Soft footsteps. Deliberate. Someone who knew how to move quietly but wanted to be heard anyway.
She sat down across from him without asking. Pale skin, dark hair, grey eyes. Her ears were slightly pointed—just enough to notice if you were looking. A dhampir. Half-vampire. He'd seen her before, crossing the quad, disappearing into the humanities building.
"Elara," she said. "You're Lucian."
He didn't ask how she knew his name. "Yes."
She studied his face. "You've been watching us. The hybrids. The half-bloods. You see us, but you don't report us."
"I don't report anyone."
