Shadows of Alarun

Chapter 3: The Golden Boy

Dayan couldn't breathe. She stared in horror at the violently torn fabric on Rupert's left shoulder. Her mind desperately tried to make sense of it. The killer had a torn left shoulder, and Rupert had the exact same tear. He was walking alone near the crime scene. The sudden warmth and undeniable chemistry she had felt beside him instantly curdled into icy dread.

"My shirt," Rupert said smoothly, noticing the terror expanding in her eyes. He casually brushed his fingers over the ripped blue fabric. "I caught it on a rogue branch in the gardens tonight. The storm made it difficult to see."

His voice was calm and perfectly measured. He didn't sound like a man who had just brutally murdered a girl in a dark alley. But the killer had also sounded incredibly calm. The killer had spoken with that same chilling confidence.

"Right," Dayan choked out. She took a step backward, pressing her hand against the heavy wooden door of her dormitory. "I should go inside now. I'm very tired."

"Lock your door, Dayan," Rupert said softly. He stared at her for a long moment, his icy blue eyes completely unreadable in the dim light. "And don't trust anyone. Not even the police. They won't protect you."

He turned and walked into the dark with an easy, terrifying grace. Dayan scrambled inside, violently throwing the deadbolt. She ran to her room, locked her door, and collapsed onto her bed. She didn’t sleep a single minute; every time she closed her eyes, she saw the flashing silver knife, the jagged scar, and Rupert's magnetic, dangerous eyes staring back at her.

The next morning, the campus of Alarun Academy was in complete chaos. News of the brutal murder had spread like wildfire before the sun even came up. The victim was officially identified as Clara Dalton. Clara was a senior journalism student widely known for writing controversial articles in the campus paper. The university administration didn't cancel classes, but the lecture halls were half empty. Students moved across the campus in large groups, whispering fearfully and casting suspicious glances at strangers. No one felt safe anymore.

Refusing to let fear paralyze her, Dayan forced herself to attend her art history class. Sitting alone in her quiet dorm was making her intensely paranoid. She was a survivor, and she needed to act normal to think clearly. She grabbed her bag and walked across the sunny quad. The bright daylight made the terrifying events of last night feel like a bad nightmare, but the heavy police presence patrolling the grass reminded her it was all very real.

As she walked up the concrete steps to the arts building, someone bumped hard into her shoulder. Her heavy textbooks spilled onto the hard concrete steps with a loud crash.

"I am so sorry," a bright, cheerful voice said.

Dayan looked up and saw Erol Senclare kneeling down to quickly gather her fallen books. Erol was the exact opposite of Rupert. He was a wealthy art major, a notorious flirt, and the absolute golden boy of the academy. He had messy brown hair, a warm smile, and an easygoing charm that made everyone love him. He was also the only son of Detective Senclare, the powerful man currently leading the entire murder investigation.

"Here you go," Erol said, handing her the stack of books. His fingers deliberately brushed hers, lingering for a warm second. He flashed a dazzling smile that made her stomach flutter for a second which is a stark contrast to the dangerous electricity Rupert brought.

As he noticed her pale, exhausted face, his bright smile faded into genuine concern. "You look terrible. No offense but didn't you get any sleep?"

"I had a rough night," Dayan muttered defensively, hugging the books. She tried to step around him, but Erol deliberately blocked her path.

"I know you did," Erol said softly, dropping his flirtatious facade. He leaned in closer, his brown eyes scanning the steps to make sure no one was listening. "My dad told me everything this morning. He said you were the secret witness in the alley, and he told me about the jagged scar."

Dayan felt a massive spike of panic. "He wasn't supposed to tell anyone! I'm supposed to be anonymous. The killer knows I was there."

"My dad drinks too much coffee and talks too loud on his phone," Erol whispered, looking deeply troubled. "Listen, Dayan. You're in serious danger. The guy who did this is a monster, but I can help you protect yourself."

"How can you possibly help me?" Dayan asked suspiciously as she searched his face for his motive.

"I have secret access to my dad's police files," Erol admitted. "I know things the public doesn't. The police think this is connected to an old secret society that operated out of the academy. Clara was investigating them before she died. They firmly believe the killer is a student, hiding in plain sight."

Dayan immediately thought of Rupert. Her stomach twisted violently. "Erol... do you know Rupert Lampert?"

Erol snorted. "Everyone knows Lampert. The guy is a walking freezer who acts like he owns the city. Why?"

"He found me last night," Dayan confessed carefully. "His shirt was violently torn on the left shoulder, exactly like the killer's."

Erol stared at her in shock. "Are you serious? You think Rupert is the guy? That actually makes sense. He's a rich psycho with zero empathy." He grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Stay far away from him. Stick by my side today. I will make sure nobody bothers you."

Before she could answer, Erol's phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. He pulled it out quickly and looked at the screen. The color instantly drained from his face, leaving him sickly pale.

"Dayan, listen to me," Erol whispered, his eyes wide with absolute terror. "Don't go near the old chemistry building today. Swear you'll stay far away."

Without another word, Erol sprinted across the grassy quad, leaving Dayan alone and very confused.

Her mind raced. Erol's terror had just given her a massive clue. If Clara was investigating a society, her notes had to be somewhere. Tired of cowering, Dayan walked purposefully toward the abandoned chemistry building.

The main doors were chained, but a rotting side door was slightly open. Dayan slipped into the dim hallway.

The stagnant air smelled sharply of old chemicals. Creeping to the end of the corridor, her heart leaped; she found a single black shoe matching Clara's footwear sitting in the dust.

A loud, heavy slam echoed directly behind her.

Dayan frantically spun around and ran back, but the deadbolt clicked loudly into place, trapping her inside the dark.