The Devil's Archivist

Chapter 4

Christopher POV:

My thumb still tingled with the memory of her skin.

I stood behind the heavy mahogany podium long after the classroom had emptied. The ghost of August’s scent—fresh rain, sweet vanilla, and pure, intoxicating terror—hung thick in the air around me.

Are you going to burn me, Christopher?

Her voice echoed in my head, soft and breathless. She had no idea how close she’d come. When I touched her neck, when I felt the frantic, fluttering pulse in her throat, every instinct I’d suppressed for seven long years screamed at me to slam her against the nearest wall, lock the door, and make her mine where no one else could ever touch her.

Instead, I had pushed her away. I had sent her off to her next class with a cruel smirk and a cold threat.

Because the moment she steps out of my line of sight, the hunters come out.

I grabbed my leather briefcase, snapped it shut, and exited through the private faculty stairwell that led directly into the subterranean tunnels beneath Founders Hall.

The air down here was stagnant, smelling of old concrete, wet earth, and rust. This was the hidden artery of Blackwood University—a network of passages used in the nineteenth century by the school’s founders, and now used exclusively by the bloodline families of The Order of the Bramble.

I walked briskly, my leather soles clicking sharply against the damp stone, until I reached an unmarked iron door deep beneath the eastern wing. I didn't knock. I pulled a silver skeleton key from my pocket, unlocked the heavy latch, and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit by flickering wall sconces. Sitting around a heavy, round marble table were three men in tailored suits—senior members of Blackwood’s board, and high-ranking leaders of the Order.

At the head of the table sat Julian Vance—no relation to August, but a ruthless billionaire heir whose family had helped cover up my sister Clara’s disappearance seven years ago.

Julian looked up, a dark, arrogant smile touching his lips as he swirled a glass of scotch. "Ah, the Archivist joins us. Did you bring the quarterly logs, Christopher?"

I walked straight to the table, unbuttoned my suit jacket, and leaned forward, slamming both hands onto the cold marble.

"Who marked August Vance?" I asked, my voice dangerously low, dropping all pretenses of faculty respect.

The air in the room instantly turned hostile. The two board members shifted uncomfortably, but Julian just chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink.

"Careful, Christopher," Julian warned, his eyes narrowing. "You may hold the keys to the library, but you don't dictate the Harvest. The Order chose the Vance girl months ago. Her bloodline is clean. She has no powerful family to cause a scene. She’s the perfect sacrifice for this year’s solstice."

My jaw clenched so hard a muscle in my cheek twitched. A dark, violent rage surged through my blood, hot and electric.

"She is off-limits," I growled, leaning closer until I was inches from Julian's face.

Julian’s smile vanished. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I whispered, my voice dripping with pure venom. "You touch a single hair on her head, Julian, and I won't just leak the audit logs from seven years ago. I will personally hunt down every single man who sits at this table and bleed you out on the altar you built."

One of the board members stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor. "Are you threatening the Order, Archivist?!"

"I'm giving you a warning," I corrected, pulling a thick leather folder from my briefcase and tossing it onto the table. It slid across the marble, stopping right in front of Julian. "That contains the private financial records of your family's offshore accounts. One press of a button, and the federal government freezes every asset you own."

Julian stared at the folder, his knuckles turning white around his crystal glass. "You're playing a dangerous game, Christopher. Protecting a scholarship girl? You're risking everything you've worked for since your sister... vanished."

Hearing Clara's memory come out of his filthy mouth almost broke my control. My hand twitched toward the blade concealed under my arm, but I forced myself to take a slow, agonizing breath.

Not yet, I told myself. If I kill him now, the rest of them will swarm August before I can get her off campus.

"The Vance girl stays alive," I said cold, turning on my heel toward the heavy door. "If I see another crimson rose anywhere near her dormitory, I start burning your legacies to the ground."

I didn't wait for a response. I yanked the iron door open and stepped back into the dark hallway, pulling the door shut behind me.

I leaned my back against the cold stone wall, my chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

I had officially crossed the line. I was supposed to stay in the shadows, gather my evidence, and destroy the Order from within to avenge Clara. But the moment they put August’s name on that card, my mission changed.

I didn't just want revenge anymore.

I wanted her. Safe. Mine.

I pulled out my phone, opening the security app connected to the hidden cameras I had installed outside August’s dorm building earlier that morning.

On the screen, I saw her stepping out of the library, wrapping her coat tightly around herself against the rising wind. She looked jumpy, her eyes darting toward every shadow as she walked back to her room.

"Hang on just a little longer, little bird," I whispered, staring at her tiny image on the screen, my grip tightening on the phone. "I'm coming for you tonight.