Everybody was watching
1236 Words
For three full seconds, nobody moved.
The banner swayed slightly above the ballroom, the red paint still dripping at the edges like whoever hung it had rushed.
Or wanted it to look that way.
YOU CAN’T HIDE HER FOREVER, ZANE.
Whispers exploded instantly afterward.
“What the hell—”
“Is this a joke?”
“Who’s ‘her’?”
“No, wait—look at Anastasia.”
Phones came out immediately.
Of course they did.
Blackthorn students treated public humiliation like an Olympic sport.
Bianca grabbed Anastasia’s arm hard enough to ground her.
“Okay,” she whispered rapidly, “I officially hate this school.”
Anastasia barely heard her.
Her eyes were locked on Zane.
Because everyone else looked shocked.
Zane looked furious.
Not loud fury.
Not reckless fury.
Worse.
Controlled.
The kind that sat cold behind his eyes.
The kind that made people nervous.
Mason appeared beside them instantly, all humor gone.
“Everybody downstairs,” he said sharply to Jude and Eli. “Now.”
Jude was already scanning the second-floor balcony.
Eli’s gaze moved toward the security cameras mounted near the staircase.
“This wasn’t random,” Eli muttered.
“No s**t,” Mason snapped.
The lights flickered back on.
Music stayed dead.
Nobody dared restart it.
Not with the entire room vibrating with tension.
Kai stood near the bar watching everything unfold with narrowed eyes.
Isla was farther back in the crowd, expression unreadable.
But Anastasia noticed something important:
neither of them looked surprised enough.
Interesting.
Zane finally looked at her fully.
“Did you tell anyone about the messages?”
“No.”
“The lighter?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
Anastasia’s temper sparked instantly.
“Do not interrogate me like I’m the problem here.”
That pulled something dangerous through his expression.
Because for the first time all night, she sounded angry too.
Not calm.
Not amused.
Angry.
People were still staring openly now.
THORN notifications buzzed throughout the room like insects.
The rumors were already spreading.
Anastasia could practically feel her name multiplying across campus.
Bianca stepped forward protectively.
“She didn’t do anything.”
Zane’s eyes flicked toward Bianca briefly.
Then back to Anastasia.
“I know.”
The certainty in his voice startled her slightly.
Because he hadn’t hesitated.
Not even for a second.
Before anyone could speak again, a slow clap echoed from somewhere near the staircase.
Everyone turned.
A tall blond guy leaned lazily against the railing above them.
Sharp cheekbones. Dark green suit. Smirk that looked permanently attached.
Dangerous in an entirely different way than Zane.
More playful.
More unstable.
“Well,” he drawled, “this party finally got interesting.”
Mason groaned immediately.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
Bianca blinked.
“Who’s that?”
Jude looked exhausted already.
“Damien Laurent.”
Anastasia recognized the last name instantly.
Professor Laurent.
The criminal psychology professor.
Interesting family.
Damien descended the staircase slowly while people moved aside for him instinctively.
Unlike Zane’s quiet intimidation, Damien enjoyed attention.
You could feel it.
“Zane,” Damien greeted smoothly. “You look stressed.”
“Leave.”
Damien grinned wider.
“There he is.”
He reached the bottom of the staircase and finally looked directly at Anastasia.
Very directly.
His gaze traveled slowly over her face before amusement flashed in his eyes.
“Oh,” he murmured. “Now I understand.”
Anastasia’s expression cooled immediately.
“Understand what?”
Damien smiled lazily.
“Why he’s losing his mind.”
Zane stepped forward slightly.
Tiny movement.
Threatening enough.
“Damien.”
“Relax.” Damien raised his hands mockingly. “I’m not touching her.”
The wording made Anastasia’s stomach tighten slightly.
Not I wouldn’t.
I’m not.
Temporary.
Intentional.
Eli noticed it too.
His posture sharpened subtly near the staircase.
Mason muttered under his breath,
“I hate when these two are in the same room.”
“Why?” Bianca whispered.
Jude answered quietly:
“Because Damien enjoys chaos…”
His eyes flicked toward Zane.
“…and Zane usually finishes it.”
The room had gone quieter now.
Everyone pretending not to listen while absolutely listening.
Classic Blackthorn behavior.
Damien tilted his head toward Anastasia.
“You’ve caused quite a reaction for someone new.”
“She didn’t ask for one,” Bianca snapped.
Damien laughed softly.
“That’s cute. You think attention here is voluntary.”
Anastasia crossed her arms slowly.
“You talk too much.”
Instead of getting offended, Damien looked delighted.
“Oh, she’s mean too.”
Zane’s patience visibly thinned.
“Get out, Damien.”
“And miss this?” Damien gestured toward the banner overhead. “Impossible.”
Then his gaze shifted back to Anastasia again.
Longer this time.
Evaluating.
Calculating.
And Anastasia suddenly understood something instinctively:
Damien Laurent was the kind of person who played with people just to see what broke first.
“Tell me something,” Damien said softly to her. “Do you know what happened to the last girl who got involved with a Moretti?”
The air changed instantly.
Sharp.
Deadly.
“Enough,” Zane said.
Not loudly.
But every single person in the ballroom felt it.
Damien smirked slightly.
Interesting.
Like he enjoyed finding pressure points.
Anastasia held his gaze anyway.
“What happened?”
This time it was Eli who answered quietly.
“She left.”
Silence.
Then Damien laughed softly.
“That’s one way to describe it.”
Zane moved before anyone expected it.
Fast.
One second he was beside Anastasia.
The next, he had Damien shoved lightly—but firmly—against the staircase railing.
Not violent enough to cause panic.
Controlled enough to cause fear.
“Careful,” Zane said softly.
Damien’s grin never disappeared.
“Oh, there’s the jealousy.”
“This isn’t jealousy.”
“No?” Damien glanced meaningfully toward Anastasia. “Could’ve fooled me.”
The tension between them felt old.
Personal.
Ugly.
Bianca leaned toward Jude whispering frantically,
“Why do all your friends act like Netflix warnings?”
Jude sighed deeply.
“You think this is bad? You should see family dinners.”
Then suddenly—
a scream echoed upstairs.
Female.
Terrified.
The entire ballroom snapped toward the sound.
Mason swore instantly.
Eli was already moving.
Students rushed toward the staircase in chaos.
Zane released Damien immediately.
Anastasia followed the crowd before anyone could stop her.
Room 208.
The upstairs guest bedroom door stood wide open.
Inside, a brunette girl stood shaking near the bed while several students crowded around her.
“What happened?”
“Oh my God—”
“Move—MOVE—”
Anastasia pushed through the doorway.
Then froze.
Because written across the mirror in dark red lipstick were five words:
SHE WAS NEVER THE TARGET.
And beneath it—
taped directly to the glass—
was another photograph.
Of Anastasia.
Walking across campus earlier that morning.
A slow chill crawled down her spine.
Because someone wasn’t just watching her anymore.
They were close.
Very close.
Behind her, the room fell eerily quiet.
Then Zane stepped into the doorway.
His gaze landed on the photo.
And for the first time since meeting him—
Anastasia saw something genuinely dangerous c***k through his calm.
Fear.
Small.
Instant.
Gone almost immediately.
But real.
And suddenly she understood something terrifying:
Whoever was behind this…
Zane Moretti already knew how bad it could get.
- Writer
