HIS ROAD TO RUIN

My New Guardian.

(Naya's POV)

I do not wait for anyone to stop me.

The moment the words leave that stranger’s mouth, I turn on my heel, shove through the people still gathered around the auditorium entrance, and walk straight toward the nearest exit.

Someone calls my name behind me.

I ignore them.

My trophy is still clutched against my chest, but the excitement I felt five minutes ago is gone. Completely gone. The only thing left is the uncomfortable feeling crawling beneath my skin.

Someone is here for you.

Who says something like that to a person they have never met?

And how does he even know my name?

I push through the glass doors and step into the warm afternoon air. My heels hit the pavement harder than necessary as I cross the parking lot, my mind replaying every second of the encounter.

The hand around my arm.

The way he looked at Evan.

The way he said my name.

The way he seemed completely certain that I was in danger.

I hate that part of me believes him.

I hate it even more because I do not know why.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

Dad.

Of course.

I stare at the screen for a moment before answering. “What?”

There is a pause. “Where are you?”

“Walking to my car.”

“Come home.”

I stop walking. “Why?”

“I need to speak with you.”

Something in his voice makes my irritation sharpen. “About the competition?”

“About today.”

I glance back at the auditorium.

The doors are still open, and people are slowly spilling outside. I cannot see the stranger anymore.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I will be home.”

I hang up before he can say anything else.

Twenty minutes later, I am standing in my father’s office with my trophy sitting on the edge of his desk.

Victor Mercer does not even look at it.

That bothers me.

Not because I need him to throw a party or buy me something ridiculous, but because this is the first time I have ever won something this important, and my father usually makes a bigger deal out of my achievements than I do.

Today, however, he looks exhausted.

He sits behind his desk with his fingers pressed together, his expression unusually serious.

I fold my arms. “So?”

He looks at me. “So what?”

“You called me home because you wanted to talk about today.”

“I did.”

“Then talk.”

His eyes move briefly toward the door.

That is when I realize we are not alone.

The man from the auditorium is standing beside the window.

My entire body goes still.

“You.”

His eyes meet mine.

He looks exactly the same as he did earlier, except now there is no crowd around us and no Evan standing between us.

Somehow, that makes him more intimidating.

My father sighs. “Naya, this is Dante Cross.”

I stare at Dante. Then at my father.

Then back at Dante. “You brought him here?”

“He is here because I asked him to be.”

“I do not care why you asked him to be here. Why did he grab me in front of everyone?”

Dante says nothing.

My father looks at him. “You could have handled that better.”

Dante’s expression barely changes. “She was about to leave with the wrong person.”

I turn toward him. “Evan is my boyfriend.”

“I know.”

My eyebrows pull together. “How?”

Dante does not answer.

I look at my father. “Dad?”

Victor leans back in his chair. “I hired Dante to protect you.”

For a second, I honestly think I have misunderstood him. “You what?”

“Starting today, Dante will be responsible for your security.”

I laugh.

It comes out sharper than I intended. “No.”

“Naya—”

“No. Absolutely not.”

My father remains calm. “You have been receiving threats.”

“I received one stupid message.”

“You received four.”

I blink.

I did not know he knew about the others.

My father continues. “You have been followed twice. Someone accessed your university records. Your car was tampered with last month.”

I stare at him. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I did not want to frighten you.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Well, congratulations. You have officially frightened me.”

Dante remains silent.

I turn toward him. “And this is your solution?”

“Yes,” my father says.

I look back at him. “This man?”

“Dante has worked security for me before.”

That catches my attention. “What kind of security?”

My father hesitates.

Dante answers instead. “The kind that keeps people alive.”

I look at him.

There is no arrogance in his voice.

No attempt to impress me.

He says it as though he is stating a fact.

I dislike him even more.

“I do not need a babysitter.”

“He is not a babysitter,” my father says.

“Then what is he?”

“Your guardian.”

The word lands differently.

Guardian.

I stare at my father as though he has just announced that he has decided to replace my entire life with prison bars. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“I am twenty-one.”

“And someone is trying to get close to you.”

“Then hire a security team.”

“I trust Dante.”

I look at Dante.

He is watching me with that same unreadable expression.

I shake my head. “I do not.”

“You do not have to,” my father says. “You only have to cooperate.”

I pick up my trophy from the desk. “So that is it? You decide that some stranger is going to follow me around, and I am supposed to smile and say thank you?”

“No one is asking you to smile.”

Dante finally speaks.

I glare at him. “I was not talking to you.”

“I know.”

“Then stop answering.”

His eyes remain on mine. “You talk a lot.”

“And you do not talk enough.”

Something almost resembling amusement flickers across his face.

It disappears so quickly that I wonder if I imagined it.

My father stands. “Naya, this is not negotiable.”

I stare at him.

For a moment, I want to argue.

I want to throw the trophy at the wall, storm upstairs, pack a bag, and disappear for three days just to prove that neither of them controls me.

Instead, I place the trophy back on the desk. “Fine.”

My father relaxes slightly. “Good.”

“But I have conditions.”

Dante’s eyebrows lift.

“I do not care what you think you are doing,” I say, looking directly at him. “You do not decide who I talk to. You do not decide where I go on campus. You do not touch me again unless I am actually in danger, and you definitely do not interfere with my relationship.”

Dante’s expression becomes colder. “I do not make promises I cannot keep.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then we are going to have a problem.”

I turn toward the door.

“Naya.”

I stop.

My father looks at me. “Dante starts today.”

I do not answer.

I walk out.

The moment the office door closes behind me, I release the breath I have been holding.

I make it halfway down the hallway before I hear footsteps behind me.

I do not turn around. “Do not.”

The footsteps stop.

I smile bitterly.

At least he listens.

I reach the front door and step outside.

Then I see it.

A black motorcycle is parked beside the driveway.

Dante is standing beside it, holding out a helmet.

I stare at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

He holds the helmet toward me. “Get on.”

I laugh. “No.”

His eyes settle on mine. “Naya.”

“No.”

“You are not driving yourself.”

“Watch me.”

I turn toward my car.

Behind me, his voice follows. “You can make this difficult.”

I glance over my shoulder. “That is the plan.”

For the first time, something dark flashes across his face.

Not anger.

Something closer to certainty.

“You will change your mind.”

I scoff and walk away.

But when I reach my car, I notice something tucked beneath my windshield wiper.

A folded piece of paper.

My smile disappears.

I pull it free and unfold it.

There are only five words written across the page.

YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO YOUR GUARDIAN.

I look toward Dante.

He is still standing beside the motorcycle.

Watching me.

And suddenly, I am no longer sure whether he is the person I should be afraid of.

Or the person I should be afraid for.