HIS ROAD TO RUIN

The Man Who Pulls Me Away.

(Naya's POV)

The crowd is so loud that I can barely hear my own name.

“Naya! Naya! Naya!”

I stand at the center of the stage with a ridiculous smile plastered across my face, staring at the trophy being held out to me as though somebody has just handed me a winning lottery ticket instead of a piece of polished metal.

For three seconds, I simply stare.

Then I take it.

The moment my fingers close around the trophy, the auditorium explodes again.

I laugh because I do not know what else to do. My heart is beating so hard that I can feel it against my ribs, and there is a strange, weightless feeling in my chest that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

First place.

Actually first place.

After three months of research, sleepless nights, cold coffee, arguments with my teammates, and one particularly violent disagreement with a professor who told me my argument was too ambitious, I have actually won.

I lift the trophy slightly, and the cheering gets even louder.

My eyes immediately search the crowd.

I find him before anyone else.

Evan is standing near the middle aisle, clapping above his head with the biggest grin on his face. He looks ridiculously proud of me, and that does something to my chest that the trophy cannot.

He mouths, I told you so.

I roll my eyes at him.

Of course he did.

Evan has been telling me I am going to win since the beginning, even when I was convinced I was going to embarrass myself in front of three hundred people and possibly ruin my entire academic reputation in the process.

I point at him with the trophy.

He laughs.

For a moment, everything feels perfect.

This is the kind of moment I want to remember years from now. The lights, the noise, the weight of the trophy in my hands, Evan’s stupidly proud smile.

I step off the stage, barely waiting for the announcer to finish thanking everyone before I make my way through the crowd.

Evan reaches me first.

“There she is,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. “My genius.”

“Your genius?” I pull back enough to look at him. “Interesting choice of words.”

He laughs. “Fine. The genius who has been torturing me with practice arguments for three months.”

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

I smile and pull him into another hug.

Then someone grabs my arm.

Hard.

My smile disappears.

The force jerks me backward so suddenly that I almost lose my grip on the trophy.

“What the hell—”

I spin around.

A stranger stands behind me.

He is tall. Much taller than me, actually, and dressed in black from head to toe. There is nothing flashy about what he is wearing, yet somehow he manages to look more intimidating than everyone else in the room combined.

His dark hair is slightly disheveled, as though he has run his hands through it too many times. A tattoo disappears beneath the sleeve of his shirt, and another dark line of ink curves along the side of his hand.

But it is his eyes that make me forget my anger for half a second.

They are cold.

Not empty.

Cold.

The kind of cold that makes you feel as though someone has already decided exactly what they are going to do with you.

His gaze shifts to Evan. “Step away from her.”

I stare at him.

Then I look at my arm.

Then back at him. “Excuse me?”

His hand drops from my arm, but he does not move away.

Evan steps forward. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger does not answer him.

He keeps looking at me.

Something about that annoys me more than it should.

I tighten my grip around the trophy. “Did you just hear him? He asked you a question.”

His jaw tightens. “I heard him.”

“Then answer.”

“Naya,” Evan says quietly, reaching for my hand, “come on. Let’s go.”

The stranger’s eyes flick toward Evan’s hand.

Something changes in his expression.

It is subtle, but I see it.

“Don’t.”

Evan stops.

I blink. “Don’t what?”

“Touch her.”

For a moment, I genuinely wonder whether I have somehow walked into an alternate universe where complete strangers are allowed to give orders about my personal life.

Then I laugh.

I cannot help it.

“You cannot be serious.”

His eyes return to mine. “I am.”

“Well, that is unfortunate.”

“Naya,” Evan says, sounding more confused than angry now. “Do you know this guy?”

“No.”

The stranger’s expression does not change. “Yes.”

I stare at him. “No, I do not.”

“You will.”

That sends an unpleasant little chill down my spine.

I hate that my body reacts before my brain can tell it not to.

I take a step toward him. “Listen, whatever your problem is, you picked the wrong person today. I just won a competition I have spent half my life preparing for, and I am not letting some random lunatic ruin it.”

His gaze drops briefly to the trophy in my hand.

Then back to me. “You need to leave.”

I actually laugh again. “With Evan?”

“With me.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Absolutely not.”

Evan moves closer to me. “She is coming with me.”

The stranger’s expression hardens.

Something about the certainty in his voice makes the small crowd around us begin to notice the confrontation.

People are looking over.

Whispers start.

Perfect.

Because apparently winning an academic competition is not embarrassing enough without getting into a public argument with a man who looks like he crawled out of the darkest corner of the city.

I step between Evan and the stranger. “You do not get to decide anything for me.”

His eyes narrow. “You do not understand what is happening.”

“Then explain it.”

“I do not have time,” his eyes darted between me and Evan.

“That is not my problem.”

His attention shifts past me toward the entrance.

For the first time, I notice that he is not watching me.

He is watching the people coming through the doors.

Three men.

They are not dressed like university students.

My stomach tightens.

The stranger looks back at me. “Get in the car.”

I stare at him. “Are you insane?”

“Naya.”

The way he says my name stops me.

Not because it is threatening.

Because he says it like he has known it for a long time.

My smile disappears. “How do you know my name?”

He says nothing.

I take a step backward.

Evan reaches for me again.

This time, the stranger moves between us. “Step away from her.”

Evan’s expression hardens. “You need to back off.”

The stranger’s gaze turns completely emotionless. “You have no idea what you are standing beside.”

My stomach drops.

I look at Evan.

Then at the stranger. “What does that mean?”

He does not answer.

Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone.

He looks at the screen.

Whatever he sees changes his expression.

Not fear.

Something worse.

Urgency.

He looks directly at me. “Your father was right.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

He takes one step closer. “Someone is here for you.”

And suddenly, the trophy feels much heavier in my hand.