(POV — Ethan)
“You’re late.”
Amelia Wolfe’s voice sliced through the dim café like a cold blade.
I froze for a moment at the sound of it, then slid into the seat across from her. She sat perfectly still, one gloved hand around a coffee cup that hadn’t been touched, the other resting on the table with effortless poise.
“Traffic,” I muttered, lowering my voice. “And I had to make sure no one followed me.”
Her eyes flicked up — grey, calculating. “No one’s following you, Ethan. You’re not that interesting.”
I managed a weak smile. “Maybe not me. But her.”
That caught Amelia’s attention. She leaned forward slightly, the faintest arch in her brow. “Lucy?”
I nodded, fingers drumming nervously on the tabletop. “She’s… different this week. Withdrawn from two of Professor Wolfe’s classes. S
