VICIOUS HEART

The brother in the video

The hallway went silent after the video ended.

Not normal silence.

The suffocating kind.

The kind that made every tiny sound feel wrong.

Mason lowered the phone slowly.

“Nope,” he muttered. “I officially hate this semester.”

Nobody responded.

Because the figure in the video looked too much like Zane.

Same height.

Same walk.

Same terrifying stillness.

Bianca looked between the screen and Zane repeatedly.

“…Okay,” she whispered carefully, “so either somebody’s framing you…”

Her voice weakened slightly.

“…or rich people are cloning themselves now.”

Damien took the phone from Mason and replayed the footage.

Again.

And again.

His amused expression slowly faded.

“Well,” he said quietly, “that’s inconvenient.”

Zane’s eyes never left the screen.

Anastasia noticed the tiny flex in his jaw.

The tension in his shoulders.

Not panic.

Recognition.

“You know something,” she said softly.

Zane finally looked at her.

And for the first time since meeting him—

he looked angry at himself.

“It’s not me,” he said calmly.

Anastasia held his gaze.

“I know.”

The words came out before she fully thought about them.

Which was irritating.

Because trusting people usually ended badly.

Something shifted briefly in Zane’s expression after she said it.

Small.

Almost invisible.

But real.

Damien noticed too.

Interesting.

Mason rubbed a hand over his face.

“Okay, fantastic. Great. We’re being stalked by either a dead brother or somebody cosplaying family trauma.”

“Can you not phrase things like that?” Eli muttered.

“No.”

Downstairs, police officers continued forcing students out of the mansion.

The party was officially over.

But the disaster was just beginning.

Outside the Estate — 1:14 AM

Rain poured harder now.

Blackthorn students crowded near the gates while luxury cars lined the driveway in chaos.

THORN notifications buzzed nonstop.

Videos.

Rumors.

Conspiracies.

The campus was feeding on it already.

Anastasia stood beneath the mansion awning scrolling silently through the newest posts.

THORN CONFESSION #7902

Told you the Moretti family was cursed.

THORN CONFESSION #7905

The girl in Room 314 should transfer while she still can.

THORN CONFESSION #7908

What if Matteo isn’t dead?

Bianca leaned against her shoulder dramatically.

“I wanted gossip and s****l tension this semester,” she complained. “Not psychological horror.”

“You’re still getting the s****l tension,” Mason said while appearing beside them.

Bianca pointed aggressively.

“Not helping.”

A black SUV pulled up near the gates.

The second it stopped, several students visibly stiffened.

Interesting.

Then a man stepped out.

Older.

Tall.

Silver threaded through dark hair.

Expensive black coat.

The resemblance hit immediately.

Moretti.

Zane’s father.

Bianca whispered,

“Oh no.”

Even Mason straightened slightly.

And Mason never looked serious unless something was genuinely bad.

The man’s sharp gaze moved across the crowd once before landing directly on Zane.

Cold recognition.

No warmth.

No concern.

Nothing remotely fatherly.

“Inside,” he said simply.

Not loud.

Still terrifying.

Zane didn’t move immediately.

Which seemed dangerous.

Anastasia noticed the subtle tension ripple through Eli and Jude instantly.

Like they expected this interaction to explode at any second.

Finally, Zane spoke.

“You didn’t have to come.”

His father’s expression remained unreadable.

“When my dead son starts appearing in videos,” he replied calmly, “I generally pay attention.”

The air chilled.

Anastasia watched carefully.

Because suddenly she understood something important about the Moretti family:

Nobody here spoke normally.

Every sentence sounded like a threat wrapped in expensive fabric.

The older man’s eyes shifted suddenly.

Toward her.

Anastasia held his gaze automatically.

Mistake.

Because his attention sharpened instantly.

Evaluating.

Calculating.

“And this is the girl.”

Not a question.

A statement.

Before Anastasia could respond, Zane stepped slightly between them.

Small movement.

Protective.

Instinctive.

His father noticed.

So did everyone else.

Interesting silence followed.

Then the older man smiled faintly.

Not kindly.

“You’re becoming predictable, Zane.”

That landed badly.

Anastasia could tell immediately.

Zane’s voice cooled several degrees.

“Leave her out of this.”

“Can’t.”

The answer came too fast.

Too certain.

Anastasia folded her arms slowly.

“I’m standing right here.”

The older Moretti looked at her again.

This time with something almost resembling interest.

“You’re either very brave,” he said calmly, “or very unaware.”

“People keep saying that,” Anastasia replied. “It’s starting to feel unoriginal.”

For one shocking second—

Mason looked like he might laugh.

Even Eli turned away slightly.

The older man studied her a moment longer.

Then nodded once.

“I see why Matteo noticed you.”

The entire atmosphere shifted instantly.

Sharp.

Dangerous.

Zane moved forward immediately.

“What did you say?”

His father didn’t react.

But Anastasia felt it.

That tiny fracture in control.

Because for the first time all night—

Zane sounded emotional.

The older man adjusted his gloves slowly.

“I said,” he replied calmly, “your brother had excellent taste.”

Anastasia’s stomach tightened.

No.

No no no.

“You knew I was being followed,” she said quietly.

Not to the father.

To Zane.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Which was answer enough.

Anger sparked hot beneath her ribs.

“You knew this was connected before tonight.”

Still silence.

Bianca whispered under her breath,

“Oh, this is getting worse.”

Damien—who had somehow appeared behind them again like a well-dressed demon—murmured:

“Much worse.”

Anastasia stepped closer to Zane now.

Rain blew cold across the driveway between them.

“You don’t get to keep information from me while someone’s leaving photographs outside my room.”

His eyes locked onto hers.

Dark.

Exhausted.

Dangerous.

“I was trying to keep you out of it.”

“And how’s that working?”

Silence.

Around them, students pretended not to stare while absolutely staring.

Phones hidden badly.

Whispers multiplying.

By sunrise, the entire university would know every detail.

Zane finally spoke quietly.

“My brother becomes obsessed with things.”

The wording made Anastasia’s skin crawl slightly.

Things.

Not people.

“When Matteo wants something,” Zane continued, “he doesn’t stop.”

“And he wants me?”

The question hung ugly between them.

Zane’s gaze flickered briefly toward the mansion.

Then back to her.

“Yes.”

The honesty hit harder than expected.

Anastasia let out a slow breath.

Not fear.

Focus.

Because now she understood the real problem:

Everyone around her kept treating Matteo Moretti like a ghost.

But nobody actually believed he was dead anymore.

Then suddenly—

a motorcycle engine roared loudly near the gates.

Everyone turned.

A rider dressed entirely in black sped past the estate entrance without slowing.

Too fast for security to react.

Too deliberate to be random.

And as the motorcycle passed—

something flew through the air toward them.

Crash.

A glass bottle shattered violently against the pavement near Zane’s feet.

Students screamed.

Security rushed forward instantly.

Inside the broken glass was a folded note.

Burned slightly around the edges.

Nobody moved.

Then Zane bent slowly and picked it up.

His expression darkened instantly after reading it.

“What does it say?” Eli asked sharply.

Zane stayed silent.

Bad sign.

Very bad sign.

Anastasia stepped forward impatiently and snatched the note from his hand before he could stop her.

Then she read the message herself.

YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO TOUCH HER FIRST.

— M

The world seemed to stop for one horrifying second.

Because suddenly—

this didn’t feel like random stalking anymore.

It felt personal.

Possessive.

And terrifyingly old.

Anastasia slowly lifted her eyes toward Zane.

“Your brother knows me?”

Zane looked like he wanted to lie.

But he didn’t.

And that terrified her more than anything else tonight.