Saoirse
The academy grounds buzz with the usual scent of rivalry and teenage hormones, but today? It feels heavier. Like the wind is whispering secrets I haven’t been told yet. For once, I breathe a little easier—no Cain. No Cyrus. No chaos. Just a temporary illusion of peace.
Until I see him.
Cyrus.
Walking through the courtyard like a storm bottled in flesh—messy hair, jaw clenched, hands shoved in his pockets like they’re hiding sins. My pulse stutters when our eyes almost meet… almost.
But then?
He walks right past me.
No smirk.
No smart remark.
No tension.
No him.
What. The. Hell?
My chest tightens. Even my wolf growls, restless. That’s not Cyrus. That’s not my Cyrus—not the one who pins me against the wall with just a stare, who toys with danger like it's foreplay.
So I
