Blackwood

By Preye Rose Blackwood University gleamed like a lie. All glass towers and marble gates, owned by three families who thought they owned the world. The Blackwoods. The Sterlings. The Vances. And I didn’t belong to any of them. I clutched my scholarship letter until my knuckles turned white. Selena Castro. That was the name on it. Not my real name. My real name would get me killed. “New scholarship students, line up!” A staff member shouted. I stepped forward, keeping my head down. Don’t talk. Don’t stand out. Don’t get noticed. That was the plan. Disappear for four years, get my degree, and vanish again. Then I felt it. Eyes on me. Cold. Calculating. Like a predator picking prey. I looked up. And that’s when I saw him. Damien Blackwood. He was standing on the marble steps with two other guys, all wearing that same smirk rich people wear when the world bows to them. Black suit. No tie. Hair perfectly messy. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath. Dark. Gray. And right now, they were locked on me. Like he could see right through “Selena Castro” and into the girl I was trying to bury. One of his friends whispered something. Damien didn’t smile. He just tilted his head, studying me. A shiver ran down my spine. He started walking down the steps. Straight toward me. The crowd parted for him automatically. Of course they did. He was a Blackwood. He stopped inches from me. I could smell his cologne. Something expensive and dangerous. “You,” he said. His voice was low, rough. “You’re new.” It wasn’t a question. I forced myself to meet his eyes. “Yes.” “Name.” “Selena Castro.” The lie tasted bitter. He stared at me for one second too long. Then his lips curved. Not a smile. A warning. “Castro,” he repeated, like he was tasting it. “Interesting.” He leaned in closer. I could feel his breath on my ear. “I don’t like secrets, Selena Castro.” My heart stopped. He pulled back, eyes dark with something I couldn’t name. Obsession. Suspicion. Hunger. “We’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he said softly. Then he walked away, leaving me shaking on the steps of Blackwood University. I came here to disappear. I didn't expect the Devil to notice me on day one. The rest of orientation was a blur. I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder. Every time I turned, I thought I’d see him. Damien Blackwood. But he was gone. That should’ve made me feel better. It didn’t. My dorm was on the east wing. Small. Shared. The kind of room rich kids at Blackwood used for their “charity projects.” My roommate was already there. Blonde, designer bag, bored expression. “Oh. You’re the scholarship girl,” she said, looking me up and down. “I’m Madison Vance.” Vance. One of the three families. “Selena,” I said quietly. “Right. Try not to touch my stuff.” She flopped on her bed. “And stay out of the Blackwood parties. You won’t survive it.” I nodded and unpacked my bag. Three clothes. One notebook. One knife hidden under my mattress. That was all I owned. That was all I needed. Old habits die hard. When you’ve been running for 2 years, you learn to travel light. You learn to sleep with one eye open. You learn that nothing is safe. Not even a place like Blackwood University. My roommate Madison Vance didn’t look up from her phone. She was scrolling through pictures of yachts and parties I’d never been invited to. “You’re lucky you got the scholarship bed,” she said, bored. “The Vances donate 2 million a year. Don’t make me look bad.” “I won’t,” I said quietly. “Good.” She finally glanced at me. “And don’t talk to Damien Blackwood. He eats girls like you for breakfast.” My hands froze on my bag. “I don’t know who that is.” Madison laughed. “Sure you don’t. Everyone knows Damien. Heir to Blackwood Corp. Professor’s son. Campus god. And the most dangerous guy here.” She went back to her phone. “Just a warning, scholarship girl. Stay in your lane.” I zipped up my bag and sat on my bed. Stay in my lane. That was the plan. Go to class. Get my degree. Disappear again. But the universe has a sick sense of humor. At 8pm, my phone buzzed on the desk. I didn’t recognize the number. Unknown: Library. West Wing. 10 minutes. -D My stomach dropped. D. There was only one person at Blackwood who would sign with just a D. I stared at the message for a full minute. I could ignore it. I should ignore it. But the part of me that survived on the streets? The part that never backed down? That part stood up. I pulled on a hoodie and slipped out. The campus at night was different. Quieter. The glass buildings reflected the moon like knives. Security cameras watched every corner. This place was owned by three families, and they watched everything. The library was locked to everyone except students. My ID card beeped and the doors slid open. Dark. Silent. The smell of old paper and expensive cologne. He was already there. Damien Blackwood stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in his pockets, looking out at the campus he owned. Black shirt. Black pants. Like he was already in mourning. For me, maybe. He didn’t turn around. “You came,” he said. His voice was low. Rough. Like he hadn’t used it in hours. “I got a text.” “From me.” Now he turned. And god, those eyes. Gray. Cold. And locked on me like I was the only thing in the room. “I wanted to see if you’d be dumb enough to show up.” I lifted my chin. I wasn’t going to look scared. Not for him. “And?” “And you did.” He took a step toward me. Then another. Until there was only a foot of space between us. “That makes you brave. Or stupid.” “Which one do you think?” “I think you’re lying.” The word cut through me. “What?” I played dumb. “Selena Castro.” He said my name like he was testing it. Tasting it. “No social media before 2 years ago. No school records. No family. You just… appeared.” My pulse spiked but I kept my face empty. “Maybe I don’t like the internet.” “Maybe.” He didn’t believe me. I could see it. He circled me slowly. Predator energy. Every step calculated. “You know what I think, Selena? I think you’re running. I think you picked Blackwood because you thought the three families were too busy fighting each other to notice one scholarship girl.” He stopped right in front of me. Close enough that I could see the scar on his jaw. Close enough to smell him. Cedar and danger. “But you were wrong.” His voice dropped. “Because I noticed.” My breath caught. “Why?” “Because you don’t flinch,” he said. “Everyone else at Blackwood flinches around me. The professors. The trustees. Even the other heirs. But not you.” His hand came up. I tensed. But he just tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers were warm. Too warm. “I’m going to find out who you are,” he whispered. “Every lie. Every secret. Every reason you’re hiding here.” “And if I don’t want you to?” “Then I’ll have to make you want me to.” He smiled. It wasn’t nice. He walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the handle. “Oh, and Selena?” “Hm?” “Welcome to Blackwood. Rule number one: Don’t cross me.” “Rule number two?” He looked over his shoulder. That dark, dangerous smile again. “Try not to die.” The door clicked shut. I stood there alone in the library, heart racing. I came to Blackwood to disappear. To be nobody. To be safe. But the Devil of Blackwood just marked me. And I had a feeling… hiding was no longer an option.