VEIL OF THORNS

The gentle hum of the jet engines slowed as the wheel touched down on the tarmac, a faint jolt stirring me from sleep. Warm sunlight streamed through the windows, painting golden streaks across the cream leather seats. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the light,and caught sight of Delta approaching that familiar mix of authority and ease in her stride. "Miss, we've landed," Delta said, her voice soft but firm. I yawned, stretching my arms above my head, the tension in my shoulders easing as I shifted upright. The silk scarf wrapped around my head slipped slightly, and I absently adjusted it, a few stray curls brushed over my porcelain skin- smooth, almost luminous, with a cool undertone that seemed to catch light in all the right places. It contrasted sharply with the dark silk of my scarf and deep mahogany of my polished nails. "Southern Ontario?" I asked,my voice husky with sleep,a subtle rasp that gave my otherwise soft-spoken words and edge. Delta nodded. "Yes. The convoy is waiting to take you straight to campus. " I sighed and pushed off the blankets drapped over my lap, slipping my feet into polished flats. My reflection in the compact mirror Delta handed me was unmistakable-wide almond-shaped eyes framed by thick lashes, a delicate nose,and lips naturally tinted as if I'd applied the faintest touch of gloss. People often said I looked like a doll, porcelain - perfect and pristine, but I hated that comparison. Dolls didn't have to juggle criminology lectures and a family empire built on secrets and shadows. Delta handed me a coffee,the rich aroma cutting through the last traces of sleep. "You think of everything," I murmured, taking a sip. "Someone has to," She replied with a smirk. As the jet's doors hissed open, a cold breeze rushed in, prickling my skin. I descended the air stair slowly, my shawl trailing behind me, as the sight of the convoy came into view. Five black Maybachs gleamed under the morning sun, their tinted windows obscuring the world within. The lead car stood ready, a driver already holding the rear door open for me. I slipped into the backseat, the soft leather cool beneath me, and Delta followed, settling in beside me with practised ease. The door closed with a muffled thud sealing us inside the bubble of quiet luxury. As the convoy began to move, I rested my head against the seat, my mind already racing through the day ahead. Lectures, campus life, and assignments awaited me at the criminology program. Yet beneath it all, the shadow of the family business loomed large, a constant reminder of the world I belonged to. The cars sped down the highway, sleek and purposeful. I traced a finger along the edge of my coffee cup, watching the blurred scenery of Southern Ontario pass by. Another day, balancing between the life I wanted and the legacy I couldn't escape. The convoy sliced through the city streets with precision,a fluid,silent display of power that turned heads but invited no questions. The dark, tinted windows ordered me anonymity,yet I couldn't help but feel the weight of invisible eyes. Southern Ontario was far from the heart of my family's empire,but the reach of the Dawn Empire was long. Delta glanced at me,her sharp grey eyes scanning my face. "You look tired," she said, breaking the silence. I sighed, leaning my head back against the plush seat. "It's just another day, Delta, lectures,group projects, and trying to stay ahead of the professor's questions about my... ' perspective ' on criminal networks." Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Well, you do have the most practical knowledge in the class." I s**t her a look,my brows arching. "Practical knowledge doesn't count for much when you can't explain how much you know what you know without raising suspicion." Delta shrugged, unbothered. "Then stop acing every case study. Maybe be mediocre for once." I let out a quiet laugh,the sound surprising even me. Delta always had a way of cutting through the tension, even when it felt like the world was pressing down on my shoulders. As the Maybachs turned into the university campus,the familiar sight of the sprawling buildings came into view. Students wandered across the grounds in clusters, backpacks slung over their shoulders, their laughter and chatter faintly audible even through the closed windows. It was a world I tried desperately to blend into, but the life I came from always left me feeling like an outsider. The convoy pulled to a stop near the criminology building,its modern glass exterior glinting in the sunlight. I hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steel myself. Delta opened the door for me before I could reach for it. "You've got this," she said, her tone softer now. I stepped out, the chill morning air brushing against my skin. Adjusting my scarf and smoothing down my tailored blazers, I straightened my posture and walked towards the building. As I entered the criminology building, the smooth click of my heels echoed through the polished floors, a sound I'd long since grown accustomed to. I walked briskly towards the elevators, my mind already shifting gears into academic mode, preparing for the lecture ahead. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the top floor. The silence was thick, save for the soft hum of the elevator machinery. Just as the doors were about to close, a tall figure stepped into the small space, his presence undeniable. The sudden shift in the air around me made me look up - 6'3ft, broad shoulders, with dark raven hair that barely grazed the edge of his jaw. His face was sharp, chiselled like something out of an old movie, with intense amber-orange eyes that seemed to study everything and nothing at once. There was something about him that suggested he didn't belong here, yet commanded attention nonetheless. His casual suit fit him like it had been made just for him, sharp and precise, much like the man himself. And then, as the door slid shut, a faint scent curled around me - something expensive, smoky, and deep. It took me a moment to place it. Whiskey. Not just any whiskey, but the kind that cost as much as a semester of tuition, smooth and intoxicating like something I shouldn't be breathing in right now. He glanced at me, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes. It was brief,but enough for me to wonder if I'd seen him before. Maybe from the underground circles my family frequented - no doubt, if not, he was at least someone I should be wary of. His gaze lingered for a split second longer than I was comfortable with, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. "Miss Fïscher, I presume?" He said, his voice low, with a slight accent that hinted at European roots. I couldn't quite place the accent, but it wasn't uncommon to hear that in this part of Ontario. I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. "And you are?" I replied, careful, even though I already felt the weight of his presence in the confined space. He titled his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "A man who's never been called by his name, it seems," he said cryptically, his eyes studying me like I was an open book he'd already read and was now bored with. The elevator hummed to a stop on the next floor, and he stepped out without another word, leaving me alone with the scent of whiskey lingering in the air. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realised I was holding, trying to shake off the sense of unease that settled deep in my chest. What was that all about? As the elevator doors slid shut behind him, I couldn't help but feel a strange pull - something I couldn't quite place. The first heir of my family's greatest enemy. The thought hit me like a cold splash of water, jolting my mind into clarity. His name hadn't come to me immediately, but now it was clear, Killian Volkov. The Volkov family, notorious in Eastern Europe, had made countless enemies, but none more personal than my own. I hadn't expected to run into him here, in the elevator of my university building. Hell, I hadn't expected to run into him anywhere. And yet, there he was. I stepped out on the seventh floor, my heels clicking sharply against the floor as I adjusted my posture. The door closed behind me with a soft whoosh, but I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Killian Volkov. The thought echoed in my head like a warning. The Volkovs were more than just business rivals. They were a shadow that lurked just beneath the surface of my family's operations. My father, my brothers - they'd warn me about them countless times. It wasn't just the Volkov family power that made them dangerous; it was their ability to hide in plain sight. Shaking off the feeling, I forced myself to focus on the matter at hand. I had a lecture to attend. Inside the building, the familiar smell of coffee and old textbooks greeted me. I made my way to the lecture hall. As I slid into a seat near the middle, Professor Hayes, a growing man with piercing blues eyes, looked up from his notes. "Miss Fïscher" he said, his tone laced with something between admiration curiosity. "Punctual as always." I offered a polite smile pulling out my notebook."Wouldn't miss it." I replied, my voice calm and measured. As the lecture began, my mind flickered between the discussion on organised crime syndicates and the reality of the life I grew up in. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I barely noticed him walk in. When he locked eyes with me, I froze. I felt it, the beginning of something raw, annoyance.